What Really Happened: A Memoir from the Apocalypse

Chapter 18: Answer

December:

We parked near the elementary school across the neighborhood, next to the daycare I went to as a baby. In that moment, I knew. Tara stood by the door of the van, and blocked my view, leading me in the other direction. I looked behind her to see the roof that had collapsed. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed my eyes, making sure I seemed like it was something I had already accepted.

I kept my eyes straight-ahead at the house at the end of the street. It was separate from the rest, and always seemed bigger than the others. It still looked the same.

The houses that weren't shattered to the ground were left behind by the people who used to live in them. My neighborhood wasn't gated, so the walkers roamed around every house, but there were few enough for us to take. For us to stay away from most and stab the rest. When it all started, most of the neighbors fled to DC, like we did. I hoped they would come back, build a fence for security, and start something new. Make this place a home for all of them again. But that was a way for me to neglect reality and trade it with the ignorance of what things have become.

Carl placed his hand on my back. "We don't have to go in."

I stared at the leaves on the ground and started to cry. He brought me into a hug. I sobbed above his shoulder, ahead of the destroyed houses and walkers.

I made my hand into a fist and held it on his shoulder. "It has to be just me."

He shook his head. "When I saw mine, it wasn't safe. But I still thought I could take it myself. I couldn't. Michonne was with me. I tried to get her to leave me alone, but she didn't. And if she would have—"

"I'll yell if I need someone. I can do it. It—it has to just be me."

"We're doing this together. That was the deal. I'll give you space. But I'm not letting you go in by yourself."

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Sun shined through the big window onto the checkered floor in the kitchen. The clutter of glasses and plates were still on the counter, but the main one was clear. The living room was empty, and I had no desire to look inside it.

I stood behind the mirror in my parents' room. Blood covered my face and shoulders. I had tunnel vision that went through the mirror, and ignored what was in front of me, who I was.

First Dad's shelf had tons of superhero figures that crowded each other. I grabbed one of the closest, without giving the shelf much of a look. I held it in the palm of my hand, and examined its green and yellow suit and yellow horns. It made a fist and wore a ponytail, and was attached to a platform with a white slider on the center. It read "Ko Ko." Five lightning symbols. A star. The number 65. Its power ups were symbols on the side. "Punch." "Sprint." "Shield." "Bolt."

The back of my head pounded, my nose was stuffy, and my throat stung. I opened my backpack to place the figure inside it, along with a Spiderman and Green Lantern for Carl and Judith.

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I stared at my hands that rested in my lap as we drove back to Atlanta, continuing the search for a new place.

"The last time you saw them, they weren't here," Dad said. "Them coming back was just one possibility. We didn't find their bodies. They could be somewhere, making it. Just like you did."

"Happy thirteenth birthday," Tara told me.

I squinted at her. Carl gave a slight smile, with his head bowed.