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Carl’s tired. He’s been walking for nearly a day now, and he’s exhausted.
Judith’s heavy, strapped to Carl’s chest. He can feel himself slowly leaning over with her weight, and he keeps having to forcefully correct himself, knowing he’ll just feel worse later if he lets his back bend down for too long.
On top of that, it’s swelteringly hot. Summer’s quickly approaching, and in the middle of Georgia with the sun bearing down on his back, Carl has long since sweated away any water he’d let himself drink. He needs to ration the water or he’ll run out, he knows, but he’s tempted to allow himself another sip.
But he can’t. That isn’t just his water, it’s Judith’s too and she needs it more than he does. He’s just lucky she can eat real food now, because he doesn’t have any of her formula with him. Or any of her diapers.
He doesn’t have anything.
Carl wonders how it ended up like this. Him and Judith on the road again, but this time they’re all alone.
Of course he knows how it happened. Really he just wonders what he did to deserve it.
When the Governor had come knocking on the prison’s walls, he’d had hope for a while there that everything would be okay. His people were strong, even if they were recovering from the sickness, and he knew that they could take whatever the Governor threw at them.
Except for the tank.
When that thing came crashing through the walls, tearing down the only thing keeping the prison safe from the world outside-- that’s when he knew it was all over. They’d had sanctuary for a little while, but now it was back to suffering.
He knew there was nothing to be done, no way to fight back, because even if they won there was no way to fix the walls. They didn’t have the tools and they definitely didn’t have the time.
So he left, leaving his rifle for some other suicidal person to keep shooting at people just as dead as they were. He went looking for his dad and his sister, hoping to make it out before the sound drew a herd.
He found Tyreese carrying Judith and leading Lizzie and Mika away from the fighting. Carl snatched his little sister away and told them to get lost--there was nothing left for them there. He told them he was going to find his dad. Tyreese tried to tell him everything was going to be okay, and asked Carl to follow him.
Carl refused. He wanted to find his dad.
Not that he ever did.
The herd came quickly, pouring in through the tore-down walls with more numbers than Carl had expected. With his baby sister held close to his chest, Carl wasn’t taking any chances just so he could wait around for his dad. So he left.
He’s been walking ever since then. It’s only been a day but it feels like it was forever ago.
He had just been wandering the woods for a while, until he stopped to make camp for the night. Early that morning he’d found an isolated road that he’s been following ever since.
The only sight to see was the trees lining the road, a foreboding presence that towers over him. There could be anything out there--and the things he knows are out there are hidden by the foliage.
Carl sticks to the middle of the road. He walks along the yellow midline, tracking the dotted line all the way down the road with his eyes, keeping them open and aware of anything coming from the woods. He hasn’t seen a walker yet, but there was no telling when he and Judith would find one shambling out of the trees towards them.
Judith starts to fuss, likely sensing Carl’s declining mood. That or she’s hungry.
And Carl can relate to that, his stomach feels like it’s eating itself alive, but she can’t be this loud out here.
He shushes her lightly, bouncing her up and down and petting her hair to try to calm her down, but nothing’s working. She keeps fussing, kicking around and flailing her arms--and then she finally starts to cry.
Carl knows he can’t rush her, that sometimes she just needs to cry herself out--especially since he doesn’t have any food--but he starts to panic.
“Judy, Judy--you can’t be this loud. It’s okay, it’s okay! I know you’re hungry, but I don’t have anything to give you--” Carl babbles, whispering and petting her head, trying desperately to get her to quiet down.
And suddenly—a rustling. He can hear it even over his panicked babbling and Judith’s crying.
Walkers.
Two come stumbling out of the woods in front of them, their blank, empty gazes caught towards Carl and his baby sister. Another stumbles out from behind Carl and Judith, farther away down the road.
Carl unconsciously pulls Judith closer to his chest with one hand, the other pawing at his hip for his knife, but she starts wailing even louder. He knows she won’t stop if he doesn’t do something, but what can he do?
His fingers curl around the handle of his knife, but a rotted hand reaches out at him before he can pull it out—
“ Head’s up! ”
Carl ducks instinctively, curling low around his baby sister—just as a rock goes sailing over his head to smash through the face of the walker, poised and ready to take a bite out of him.
He blinks in shock for only a moment before the second walker shambles closer.
Quickly, he readies himself, pressing Judith protectively to his chest with one hand, clutching his knife in a white-knuckle grip out towards the walker in front of him with the other. He can still hear the last walker behind him, and he doesn’t know who the person in the trees is.
But his biggest concern is getting startlingly close—and when the thing’s hand starts to reach for Carl, close enough to scratch, Carl slams his foot down on its knee.
It topples to the ground, prone and easier to hit than when it was on its feet. Carl grips his knife, raising it over his head before swiftly bringing it down on the walker’s temple.
Rotten, brown blood splatters up onto his hands, but it’s the least of his concern as he wrenches his knife back and turns to face the walker from behind.
He glances down at the still-crying Judith, finding her untouched, her red cheeks still wet with tears. Not a drop of blood had gotten on her.
Again, Carl lets the walker come up to him before repeating the same process—kicking its knee and stabbing its temple once it was down. This time, Carl gets some blood on his face, and he hastily scrubs it off using his shirt with a grimace.
Judith, face pressed to his chest, still hadn’t gotten anything on her. Wiping his hands on his jeans first, he lifts her out of the makeshift sling and cradles her gently in his arms, tucking her little face into his shoulder and patting her back.
She settles down almost instantly with just a touch.
Carl sighs, put upon, “All you wanted was a hug?”
Then he remembers the person in the woods.
He spins around to the direction the rock came from, eying the treeline with suspicion before he hears it.
“Are you okay?”
Carl can’t tell where the person is, but he thinks it must be a guy and he replies, “Who are you?”
“I asked you first! Is that a baby?” the voice seems excited for some reason.
Carl’s kind of annoyed, “You can’t ask another question!”
At that, a face pops out from the underbrush, mouth wide open to complain, “Then just answer the first one! Are you okay ?”
The boy, and it has to be a boy, looks about Carl’s age, maybe a year older. He’s blonde, with long hair and a little acne. His face is a little scruffy, with what looks like a little facial hair, though Carl isn’t sure from so far away.
Carl’s killed someone his age before just to be safe, but he’s happy to find the stranger is as old as him. Even if Carl is living proof that kids can be dangerous, he still finds that he trusts this kid more than he would have if the kid had been older.
Reluctantly, Carl finally answers, “We’re okay. And yes she is a baby.”
The boy in the underbrush lights up at his words and takes a few hesitant steps forward.
Carl stops him, brandishing his knife in the other boy’s direction, “I asked you who you are.”
The boy freezes at the sight of the bloody knife. He huffs a very nervous laugh and answers with a slight stutter, “M-my name is Trevor—Trevor Denvers.”
Carl keeps steady and asks his next question, “Are you alone?”
Trevor answers, “Yes, all alone—uh, can I ask you a question now?”
“I’m the one with the knife,” Carl reminds him coldly, “I also have a gun.”
The kid tenses up and yelps, actually startling Carl at the unexpected sound.
Carl blinks, and assures the boy, slightly guiltily, “I’m not gonna hurt you, not if you answer me,” and follows hesitantly with, “I only have four questions.”
The boy nods, relaxing at Carl’s words, so he starts.
“How many walkers have you killed?”
“A few—not that many really, I usually run or set traps,” the boy babbles a bit, seemingly getting more relaxed the more he talks.
“Why?”
“Oh, well my dad wasn’t that big on violence. I mean, for a hunter that guy was pretty anti-violence, heh! He didn’t really teach me how to kill them so much as he taught me how to take care of myself—actually, speaking of, where did you learn to kill them so well? That was really awesome back there—”
Carl cuts him off, “How many people have you killed?”
“Oh—well, none.”
“Why?”
“Why would I need a reason to not have killed people?”
That answer stung. Carl scowls at the other boy, but lowers his knife.
“Can I come over there now?” Trevor asks.
Carl nods, falling to sit cross-legged near the fallen walkers, still clutching his sister to his chest.
Trevor walks hesitantly over to him, watching his step as he comes nearer to the gore from the walkers.
“Don’t you think we should move this somewhere else?” Trevor asks as he wrinkles his nose, sitting hesitantly across from Carl.
Carl shakes his head, answering, “The smell should help protect us while we talk.”
Trevor nods slowly, his gaze still drawn to the corpses around them, until he suddenly looks up into Carl’s eyes.
Carl startles a bit, readjusting his grip on Judith as he takes in the close-up look of the other boy’s face.
Trevor did, in fact, have a little facial hair. It was blonde, barely visible and patchy, but even so, Carl was a little jealous. So close up, Carl could even see a small spattering of freckles dusting the boy’s cheeks. And drawing Carl’s attention the most was Trevor’s eyes.
They were a shocking, electric green, bright with what Carl can only imagine is innocence.
(“Why would I need a reason to not have killed people?”
Really? That needs to be asked in a world like this?
Carl thinks he should have a reason for how he hasn’t at this point)
Carl snaps out of it as Trevor speaks.
“Can I ask you a question now?”
Carl nods, his gaze still locked with Trevor’s, not willing to be the first to look away.
“What’s your name?”
“It’s Carl. And this is Judith—my sister,” Carl answers.
Trevor smirks, “So I don’t get to know your last name?”
Carl frowns, “It’s Grimes. Carl and Judith Grimes.”
“Well, Carl and Judith, is it just the two of you?” Trevor asks, “It doesn’t look like you have much in the way of supplies.”
“Didn’t exactly have time to pack up when I left,” Carl replies defensively.
“So you are alone?”
Carl hesitates, but eventually answers, “Yes… It’s just the two of us now.”
Trevor finally breaks their locked gazes as he tugs his bag off from around his shoulders. He holds it open to show Carl its contents.
There’s food, mostly what looks like smoked and salted preserves of meat, some freshly picked mushrooms and berries, and a whole, fresh-caught rabbit. Packed under the food is supplies, things like fishing wire and hunting tools and first aid equipment. It’s not a lot, but it’s so much more than Carl has.
“If you want… we could go together. Wherever you’re headed,” Trevor offers.
“...How do you know I’m going anywhere?” Carl asks hesitantly, not wanting to accept too quickly but also not wanting to chase away the offer.
Trevor laughs, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, “I just really hope you are! I’ve been wandering around alone all this time, and… I’m getting kind of bored of that.”
The light in Trevor’s eyes dims as he says this, and Carl studies the boy curiously as he seems to force himself to light up again.
“So, is the offer accepted or are we going our separate ways?” Trevor asks, sticking out his hand for Carl to shake.
Carl studies the boy in front of him. This kid is a stranger, someone he just met who did the bare minimum in helping Carl out of a sticky situation. He’s offering Carl supplies—but there isn’t much there to offer, if Carl’s honest. Not anything he couldn’t eventually scrounge up himself.
He doesn’t know why Trevor was offering this, either, and not knowing can be dangerous—and Carl has Judith to look after, now. But, Carl thinks he has an idea of why.
And looking at him, Carl becomes more sure.
Trevor was just lonely.
Slowly, Carl takes Trevor’s hand and shakes it.
The two don’t get very far before night falls.
They make it maybe a couple miles away before the sun goes down, seemingly in the direction of a neighborhood, going by signs on the road. When Trevor had spied the first road sign to tell them a town was nearby, he’d argued they should go around, into the woods. Carl argued that a neighborhood meant a secure building to sleep in and supplies.
Carl had won that argument, but it didn’t matter much by the time the sun set and there was no neighborhood in sight.
Carl sighs deeply, trudging to a slow stop, taking one last, hopeful look down the road for any road signs or houses before calling out to Trevor, a few paces ahead of him and still moving, “We should set up camp for the night.”
Other than the short argument over whether they should continue to follow the road or not, Carl hadn’t spoken much to Trevor. But Trevor had spoken quite a bit to Carl. About his father, about his school, and about hunting trips before and after the end of the world.
Honestly, the boy talks quite a lot. Carl isn’t really used to people filling the silence on the road, beyond a few firm commands from his father. Even the prison, sanctuary that it was, had been quiet, save for the distant play of the other kids and hushed talk between the adults. So he isn’t used to Trevor’s seemingly mindless, excited chatter.
But despite how unsafe it likely was, despite how it startled him every time a quiet story shifted to an emotional, impassioned one, Carl does enjoy listening to Trevor.
He’s glad to have found Trevor for more than one reason. But more than anything, having food to eat was a definite plus. Carl’s looking forward to the rabbit he had seen in Trevor’s pack.
Trevor babbles on about an unlucky hunting trip as the two set up camp. He speaks about a bear that had gotten into his and his father’s food even though they had secured it, and other mishaps that had followed. Apparently they hadn’t noticed a hole in their tent when packing, and they were eaten alive by bugs that night.
Carl thinks it’s a funny thing to complain about, considering neither of them has had anything at all to protect them from mosquitos for almost two years.
With the fire started, Carl sits down, cross legged with Judith upright in his lap. He faces the fire, staring into it as he thinks how surreal it was that he was here with a stranger. He had almost gotten used to the prison, then he was alone again, and now he’s found a strange kid to travel with. Traveling towards nowhere, as Carl has no idea where they’re going and little hope that anyone else has survived, let alone that he might find them again.
Carl glances over at his new companion. Trevor had set about skinning the rabbit as Carl sat with Judith and contemplated their new situation. His back is turned towards Carl, the gore-y business of butchering the rabbit turned away from Judith’s innocent eyes.
“Why did you want to join us?” Carl asks suddenly.
Trevor pauses in his storytelling, answering Carl’s question with so little hesitation it was like Carl hadn’t interrupted him at all, “Well, like I said, I don’t have anyone. I’ve been wandering around all this time alone.”
Carl doesn't think that’s reason enough. “There are other survivors, other people , that you must have come across. Why did you choose us?”
Trevor continues butchering the rabbit. He tears the pelt off as he answers, “I mean, sure. But you’re my age! How was I supposed to trust anyone else?”
“You shouldn’t trust me. Not just because I’m your age. That doesn’t mean anything anymore,” Carl says.
Trevor nods, and waves his bloody hand and knife in the air in admission, “Sure. But you have a baby! I saw how you were taking care of her. And anyway, I couldn’t just let her die.”
“You mean when you helped us? With those walkers?” Carl lightly bounces Judith in his lap, turning away from looking at Trevor’s back and towards the fire.
It is when Carl’s back is turned to him that Trevor turns to face Carl, “Yeah. I… I don’t really want to admit this. But… I’ve sat by, a few times. When people were hurting. When they needed help. I just couldn’t trust them!” Trevor confesses, “But more than them, I couldn’t trust myself. I knew I would just get myself hurt trying. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself.”
“But you decided to help me and Judith,” Carl says.
“Yeah,” Trevor answers.
Carl looks away from the fire. He stares down at Judith, at her peaceful, sleeping face cradled in his lap. Carl may not have needed the help, or he may have. Without help, one of the walkers could have hurt Judith while he wasn’t looking, and she wouldn’t be sleeping here now.
All he really knows is that Trevor’s help is one of the reasons Judith is here now. Whether she would or wouldn’t be without that help doesn’t matter.
“Thank you,” Carl says, “For your help earlier.”
Trevor smiles, a small, genuine thing that warmed Carl’s chest for having put it there.
Carl’s face flushes. Indignant at his own thoughts, he turns away from Trevor, putting his back to the fire. “Goodnight,” he says abruptly.
“Yeah, goodnight.” Trevor sounds almost wistful.
He probably hasn’t heard that in a long time. Neither has Carl.
Carl’s about ready to lay down, when he hears Trevor pipe up from behind him.
“Don’t you want dinner?”