Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ ꜱɪx

Carl has calmed, though he doesn't quite know the full extent to what happened. Something that Rick was grateful for.

Lucas, however.

He passes his eyes constantly from Rick to the distance, but not once does the other man meet his gaze.

There's still blood on Rick's hands. He keeps them buried in his pockets so his son doesn't see them.

"You bit, too?" Carl asks, low under his breath.

"No."

"Shane was." The boy looks at the ground beneath his feet, steadily making their way towards the house. "Lucas told me something bad happened."

Lucas clenches his hands beside him and stubbornly refuses to look up. His teeth could crack beneath the pressure of his jaw.

"You know that wasn't Shane. Not anymore." Rick glances over Carl, towards the blond. "What did Lucas tell you?" The roles are reversed and this time the boy in question refuses to meet his questioning stare.

"Just that." Carl shrugs. "He wouldn't let me look."

Rick lets out a heavy breath. Relief.

Lucas takes the opportunity of Carl's lowered head to look directly at the ex-officer. He holds their shared gaze in a way he hopes means "I saw what happened, but please don't shoot me for it later."

"What did happen? Can you tell me now? Were you guys attacked?" Carl kicks at the dirt, looking up, "I mean, I heard a gunshot, but I didn't see any walkers nearby."

There's a tense silence. Rick is unsure whether to lie or tell the truth.

Carl remains stubborn, "How did Shane die?" He narrows his eyes at Lucas, "Did you see what happened?"

"Uh," Lucas opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and widens his eyes pointedly at Rick. This wasn't his place to choose.

Rick stops.

And like dominos, they follow.

Nodding at Lucas, then looking at the sky like he's asking for help, Rick makes his decision. He kneels on the wet grass beside his son, breathing loudly through parted lips.

He's going to tell him the truth.

"Carl. . ."

Lucas narrows his eyes, twisting his head around. Something's wrong.

It isn't silent anymore.

More than just the crickets.

A familiar groaning, stumbling footsteps.

"Rick." Lucas sees them, a litany of little dots in the distance, growing more detailed in shape the closer they move.

Walkers.

"Rick." He hisses, grabbing them both.

Rick turns, choking on a gasp, and with wide eyes, "Oh my god. Go! Go, go, go."

And they run, legs moving on an instinct they've come to learn. Lucas flips free his switchblade and keeps a hand on his holster, waiting to be used.

He's not so certain about his aim.

Rick pushes them both toward a cluster of trees, hiding in the depths of them. Because not only were the walkers coming from behind but on both sides as well.

They were surrounded.

"We gotta get to the house, tell the others," Carl stresses, his shoulders almost touching his ears. He leans in close to his Dad's side.