We Can Survive (Carl Grimes Fanfiction)

Chapter 25- Rescue

[Note: This chapter begins where the prologue left off. Some time has passed since chapter 24.]

And now, I'm here. I'm in this dingy room with walkers groaning from outside the locked metal door. And I'm crying as I think about all the things life has thrown at me. All the time I've spent not just surviving, but living.

Maggie named her daughter Emily. A beautiful name for a beautiful, red-headed angel. She's two years old now and her favorite word is "flower." Maggie and Glenn couldn't be happier. Judith was pretty excited when Emily turned out to be a girl. She'd finally have a playmate closer to her age. After all, Emily was only three years younger. I couldn't wait to see how undoubtedly close they would be as teenagers. I couldn't wait to see them as teenagers in general. They are a new generation. One that will have grown up in this post-apocalyptic world.

Now, it looks like maybe I won't see them grow up.

Daryl and Carol are still secretive. So secretive. No one really knows what exactly they are in relationship terms. But we all know that they are happy. That is enough for us.

Hershel smiled when Beth and Trinity told him that they were a couple. I asked him about it later, and he said he'd never seen Beth talk about someone like she talked about Trinity. He was happy if she was happy. Now, he's older than most would believe. He's gotten really good at moving around with his prosthetic leg.

All of our people have somehow remained alive. The last death in our group was Rick. I still don't really understand how Carl and I got through that. There were a lot of nights when I held him as we cried. There were a lot of nights when we went outside during thunderstorms just to scream at whatever God would allow such awful things to happen. There were a lot of nights when Carl was okay. The nightmares grew less and less frequent. Losing a parent is a strange thing.

How did I make it? How did I live? How did I find happiness in a world where happiness is fictional? We live off the land now. We only go on supply runs for things we can't grow or make ourselves.

We live off the land, but really, we live off each other. Our family is large and mostly adoptive, but it is more than anyone could dream of in a pre-walker world. Everyone knows one another down to the core and we all love each other anyway, despite the endless flaws present in each of us.

I sometimes wonder why the old world wasn't like this. Clearly, people can learn to love anyone with time, no matter how different. We're in this awful situation. We have to fight to survive every single day. Yet all any of us have is love. The old world was nothing but hate. Sometimes I think that maybe, in some twisted way, the walkers are a gift to the human race. They're the worst thing that could've happened to the world besides letting it continue on the path it was taking.

Then again, sometimes I think I've gone completely crazy.

That idea doesn't seem so wrong when I hear four raps on the metal door.

I listen.

The noises of the walkers are gone. The room is eerily quiet. I've been in here for over two days with only one water bottle and half a granola bar.

Four more knocks on the door.

I realize I should answer. I don't want anyone to move on from the building without me. I would answer if my throat wasn't so dry. If any noise came out when I spoke.

I stand too quickly and my head spins. I run forward anyway.

I knock four times on the door.

There is movement on the other side. I worry that maybe this killer of walkers is more dangerous than the walkers themselves.

I brace myself and unlock the door before moving out of view of the person on the other side. The heavy door slides open with the screech of metal on metal and I see a strong, beautiful silhouette. A strong, beautiful silhouette wearing a goddamn sheriff's hat.