Sweet and Salty ~ Carl Grimes

A Good Attempt - 034

The group quickly fell asleep, but not Brooks. She stayed away with her dim torch, scribbling her letter to Carol. She sat there, waiting, even after the clock had struck twelve. She watched as Daryl came inside, woke Cam up for his shift, before both headed to the back of the house to tell Merle it was the end of his shift. She grabbed her backpack, but no food or water before she stepped over every sleeping body in the living room.

Brooks peered down the hallway. "Come on, man. We're done." She faintly heard Daryl's voice. She looked around the room. To Lori and her baby that Brooks thought she wouldn't ever meet, to Maggie, Glenn, to Carl and Rick, Sophia, Carol, T-dog, Hershel and Beth. Finally, she glanced down the hall to Cam, Daryl and Merle.

She thought she'd never see them again, yet, she still left out the front door, and ran off into the night.

/----------\

The rain that night was biblical. If Brooks was religious, she'd take that as God's sign to turn back. Perhaps if she listened to him then the events wouldn't have unfolded like they did.

She kept her big, black torch in her hand, shining around. The girl constantly turned in circles, checking behind her. The rain was too loud to be able to hear the leaves crunching, or the quiet snarl of a walker. There was no denying that Brooks was scared. She knew that she wouldn't last long in this world on her own, but she didn't care.

It was sad, but Brooks had given up. She knew this was the end for her, but she knew that Carol's happiness was worth more than her life. On a positive note, Brooks was back to her old skill of being able to identify the silver linings. This silver lining was that she wouldn't be getting in anyone's way, her group would be happy and therefore enjoy the end of the world that little bit more. She wished them all the best, but she had to focus on her survival in that terrifying forest.

Although, she didn't particularly want to die on her first night of freedom. That would just be embarrassing. Luckily, Brooks came across a cabin after walking in the rain for several hours. Her leg was starting to burn from all the walking she'd done, that had never happened before. She pushed open the door, and shone her light around the cabin.

Three times, loudly, she stomped her foot on the ground. Brooks knew she had to make noise, but in a weird way, she was too scared to let it come from her own mouth. After a minute with no walkers coming her way, she turned and shut the door behind her. With a struggle, she even dragged the old kitchen table in front of it.

The lights flicked on, and the click of a shot gun was heard. Brooks whizzed around, confused at the electricity, but even more confused on the ginger boy in front of her with a shot gun pointed her way. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded, a southern Texas twang plagued his voice. Brooks slowly raised her hands, showing that she meant no harm. Instead of responding, her eyes wandered around. Oak wood, birch wood, pine wood, everything seemed to be home made. Of course, apart from the fridge, the oven, and the television. There was a red carpet that she could see in the living room, but that seemed to be the only bit of décor. "I said!" The boy raised his voice. "Who are you?"

Brooks' voice shook with fear as she responded. "Brooks. Brooks Dixon."

"And what are you doin' in my house, Brooks. Brooks Dixon?" He taunted.

"Lookin' for some shelter." Brooks replied. "Why wasn't your door locked?"

He scoffed. "Ain't no strangers 'round these parts. Not 'till you, of course."

She slowly nodded. "Please, don't hurt me. I'm all alone, ya see? Please. I won't stay long, I swear. I'll move on as soon as the sun's up if that's what you want." The trusting young girl pleaded.