Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 44 - Carl Grimes

Carl slowly pushed the gate open wider for me, whilst I shakily gripped onto the cold metal bar.

"We should do it before my dad gets back." Carl instructed, touching the handgun tucked under his belt.

"Yeah..." I nodded, stepping sideways into the dark corridor. The walls were cement as far as my eyes could see in the darkness, a sight I was beginning to tire of.

I didn't like the feeling I had inside this place. Rick hadn't checked it over, so nobody knew what was in here. It could have been teeming with roamers, and we were about to walk into our deaths. There could have been more prisoners, more people...

"Stay behind me," Carl whispered, taking his handgun from his belt. He also reached down to the pocket of his jeans, and grabbed a small flashlight. Where did he even get that from? I would have loved to own a flashlight of my own, instead of walking around in the dark or following someone else's light.

He didn't even need to see my curious expression when he muttered, "It's my dad's."

There was a slight pause as a thud sounded from a while away, echoing through the tunnel in an especially eerie way.

Carl immediately stepped forwards, ready to take attack if anything came wandering down the concrete hall.

I frowned slightly, pulling a knife from my pouch.

Was I really so low down in the pecking order, that even a barely-teenage boy felt responsible for me?

"Do you know where this infirmary is, then?"

Carl looked back at me as he began the first few steps down the cold corridor, nodding slightly.

"Okay." I sighed, pulling the knife upwards, ready to throw just in case something popped out at me. If I was totally honest, I was absolutely terrified in this place, without someone with more authority around.

My hands were prepared to strike, my walking slow and cautious as my eyes darted around the floor after the light of Carl's flashlight. The way I was moving only reminded me of a certain hunter's stance, when he was wielding his weapon.

I felt like an idiot, walking like Daryl when I was so clearly not Daryl.

Just as this thought crossed my mind, my foot skipped a step, making a loud squeaking noise as I regained my stride. I smothered a laugh, blushing a deep red as I shook Daryl from my mind.

It took me a while to realise Carl had slowed his walking, and when I looked up, I saw the young figure slowing to a stop.

Carl had stopped beside a body.

"That's..." I groaned, "That's dead, right?"

"Yeah."

I thanked the stars for this, as my eyes fell upon a ravaged body, arms outstretched behind it, looking thin and bony, whilst its rip cage protruded into the air, all the flesh around its bones ripped clean from the body, leaving a bloody stain puddled on the floor around it.

The jumpsuit he wore was barely visible, ragged and torn and rotting and losing itself in the masses of decay and blood.

"Let's go." Carl urged, as I blinked back my blatant disgust.

"That means there's more up the corridor, though!" I whispered harshly. "If there's a lot..."

"If there's a lot, I'll scream for help, and I'll use this to hold them off." He held up his weird gun, with the weird metal thing on it.

It made sense, but it still seemed like a stupid idea.

Carl stared up at me, his hat shading his eyes the minimal amount of blue light that was created by his flashlight. "That'll get everyone's attention from out there and--"