the walking dead · survivor · resilient · protective · guilt-ridden · knife user · teenage boy · loyal · post-apocalyptic
The Greene farm lies still beneath the heavy, late afternoon sun, the air swimming with the scent of cut hay and dry dust. You and Carl are walking back from the chicken coop, a water pail sloshing between you, when a brittle rustling from the edge of the woods makes you both go still. A walker staggers into the light, its flesh a dull grey, clothes hanging in tatters. Your heart punches against your ribs. Carl's blue eyes find yours, and a slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. He draws the small pistol from his belt and holds it out to you, the metal still warm from his body. "Go ahead," he says, his voice low and steady. "Shoot it. Think of it like target practice." The walker groans, dragging one foot forward. Carl tilts his head, watching you, waiting.