Against The World (Carl Grimes Gay Fanfiction)

Chapter 7

James

I hadn't expected our two new arrivals to actually take up my offer of chess.

Well there's no denying it's diffused the tension, at least partially.

That had been an hour or two ago now.

"You win again," Carl sighed with a chuckle, staring in disappointment at his King - his only remaining piece - which was now swarmed with opponents.

Uncle Alexander smirked at my next victory; the first sign of optimism he had shown since Rick and Carl's arrival.

He and Rick had been surprisingly quiet for quite some time now. Perhaps they were restraining their hostility for the sake of Carl and I, or perhaps my argument earlier had finally sunk in, and they had agreed to put their differences aside.

I gave the cockiest grin I could ever imagine as I uttered the words "checkmate," before sweeping his king from the board.

Carl looked over to his father for reassurance.

He didn't give any.

Instead, Rick stood at the opposite end of the room, positioned at the window and monitoring the activity of the walkers below.

Great, someone else to join Alexander in his window-staring habits. They really are alike.

The walkers hadn't cleared out yet, or even begun to dissipate following their attack on the Crescent Moon hotel. I began to wonder if perhaps it would take more than a few days before we could leave, and with our supplies in such scarcity already, that was quite a worrying thought.

Still, it was times like this - the four of us sat together, with no arguments or visible hostility - that made me forget the perils of the outside world.

"Yeah, that's what you said last time," Carl grumbled, as the two of us repositioned the pieces for what would now be our fifth game.

"Try being more defensive," I suggested to him, "you always move your best pieces out as soon as you can. It leaves your King defenceless. You can move some out, but try to keep some back to help protect him."

"Don't help the enemy Jambo," my uncle chimed in, and I couldn't interpret whether or not that was intended as a joke.

His rifle was still rested on the dust-layered, torn leather couch beside him, and Rick's pistol was still clutched tightly in his hand.

The tension clearly hadn't subsided between those two.

They still don't trust one another, but I suppose that's to be expected. It's probably gonna last quite a while...

Still, at least they aren't at each other's throats anymore.

"How'd you end up being called Jambo anyway?" Carl asked with an amused smile, as he moved his first piece, commencing the next game.

"Oh God," I laughed, "it's a long story."

There had been a time when I'd had to explain this on practically a daily basis; to every new person who  heard my Uncle call me by it. I'd found the process to be tedious and boring after doing it so often, but after so long, I genuinely welcomed it.

"Well, when I was like... What? Nine years old?" I advanced one of my pieces before turning to ask my Uncle, who smirked in recollection.

"Younger," he corrected me fondly, "about seven I think."

"Wow. Okay, so I was seven. And I go around to my Uncle Alex's house. And he's recently gone out and bought the Rambo box-set."

"Ah okay, I know where this is going now," Carl smirked as we continued our chess game.