Stand By You (Carl Grimes)

Prologue: Part 2

Cautiously I approach the door, keeping my right hand steadied on the knife handle. "Guys it's me." I immediately recognize my dad's voice. Deep, but with a softness to it. I unlock the latches and twist the brass handle open. As soon as he steps in, he re-locks the door. "Dad!" Peter yells, hugging his legs, dad smiles ruffling his hair. Dad rests his hands on my shoulders. "Alright Scarlett, your 12, so I'm gonna give you some responsibility. Go upstairs and pack a bag with food and water. Get my hand gun out of the nightstand. Remember I taught you how to shoot? Well your gonna need to use that." I nod running up the stairs. I grab the hunting backpack my father uses, stuffing it with bottles of water and nonperishable foods. In the nightstand, my fathers black pistol sits in the back for emergency situations. In the back, I grab a few boxes of bullets and a few magazines.

Back down stairs, my father keys open the black case that holds his rifle. He slings it over his back, gathering Peter and I in the living room. A piercing scream echoes through the house from outside. Civilians flood the streets trying to escape the monsters. A gun shot rings through the air. This causes Peter to cry. I crouch down to get on his level. "Peter, we're gonna be fine, ok? Just be quite quiet. Like a ninja." I wipe the tears that are streaming down his cheeks. Thud Crack Thud Crack. One of those...those things pounds on our window. They look ghastly, like only something Hollywood could create. Soon, the glass shatters, leaving a perfect entryway for the ghoul. Dad pushes us behind him, loading his gun. He shoots it once in the gut, still it hobbles toward us. Again, in the chest, same result. "Try the head. Nothing can come back from the head." I say. He aims the barrel at the head firing. The thing crumbles to the ground, blood splattering everywhere.

"It's not safe here." Dad says. He guides us to the garage, grabbing car keys off the hook. "Get in the back." He points the shiny, black truck stationed in the garage. I pull Peter onto my lap, strapping is in. The door loudly rumbles open, monsters fill the streets. Dad gasses it, mowing down a few undead. He whips the truck around, trying to avoid civilians. Going down the street, houses blaze on fire, people scream in terror. "Damn it!" Dad yells, the main road is backed up, some people leaving there cars and going on the run. Dad turns around making his way off the road to a wooded path. For a couple of minutes we coast down the path. Until the car gets stuck. Dad pulls it around, instead the car flies down a hill.

I try my best to hold tightly to Peter, until the impact. I think I get whiplash, my vision gets blurry, the smell of smoke lingers in the air. I examine Peter, a few scratches visible on his cheek. "You okay?" I ask. He nods. I turn my attention the dad. I nudge him in the shoulder. "Dad?" No response. "Dad?!" My voice starts to crack. I check his pulse, no feeling. Hot tears well up in my eyes spilling out. Peter starts to cry too. Then I see him start to twitch, jerking against the seatbelt. He shrieks at us, trying to bite at us. We both scream, trying to avoid him. I unbuckle the belt, pushing open the door. "We can't leave him!" Peter yells. "That's not dad anymore." I say. I take out the pistol aiming at the temple. "No!No!" Peter tugs at my left arm. I close my eyes, tears streaming down. "3...2...1" I pull the trigger.

*Ten Months Later*
I'm not sure how we did it. A twelve and four year old out on there own for a few months. We survived in the woods and some abandoned houses. Never truly able to remain anywhere. We met Susan and Robert about a month and a half after dad died. They were older, they cared for us. It was that way for nine months. Until the walker incident.(I guess Walkers are what they're calling them now.) Putting them down was hard. Everyone I loved seemed to always slip away. Peter the only remaining one. About a month later a man named The Governor discovered us. Took us to a supposed safe zone, Woodbury, they called it. That's where we are now. But I'm not sure how long this one will last.