Walking Dead 1. Sophia

Young Love

Carol ran her fingers through Sophia's chin-length blond hair, trying to undo all the tangles from her daughter's night of fitful sleep, before sliding the girl's light blue headband into its proper place on Sophia's head.

"There you go, dear. You're get prettier every day." Carol gave her daughter a tight smile, trying to make her facial expression warm and loving. Sophia tried to return the smile, but it didn't fit properly on her face, and her baby blue eyes stayed downcast.

Sophia's shirt was supposed to be lavender, with multi-colored butterflies flitting around the front, but after weeks of wear and tear it had faded to a dingy, dark-hued periwinkle, and the butterflies looked like large murky dots. The girl's jeans were starting to rip at one knee, and the cuffs barely came down to her ankles. The headband that Carol had placed in Sophia's hair had originally been a lovely, soft shade of blue that matched her eyes, but now it, too, was darker in color, and was smudged with too many weeks worth of dirt that never seemed to fade.

Carol placed her hands gently on Sophia's shoulders, trying to look into her eyes, which were fixated on the ground. "What's wrong, Sophie? Did your father…?" She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought, but Sophia knew what she had meant. She closed her eyes and shook her head, ruffling her hair in the process.

"I just don't see the point of getting up and letting you make me look pretty every day like the world is still the normal place it used to be, mom. Who cares if my hair is straight and tangle free, or if my clothes are clean, or if there's dirt on my face?" A small tear trickled down Sophia's cheek; she wiped it away before it could make its way to her chin.

"Acting like everything is fine is the only hope that someday the world will be right again. If we give up trying to be as normal as possible then we may as well just give up fighting for our lives and let the walkers eat us. Is that how you want to end up: a meal for the geeks?" Carol cupped Sophia's chin, making the girl meet her eyes, the tight-lipped smiled back in place on her face.

Sophia sniffled, her lower lip jutting out slightly. "No."

"I didn't think so." Carol rose to her feet and planted a kiss on Sophia's forehead. "Just remember that you're not the only kid in the apocalypse. You've got Carl to keep you company, and those quiet little Hispanic children. I know those two don't say much, but I'm sure they like you just as much as everyone else does. We're all in this together, kiddo. We've gotta look out for each other." Carol's smile was a bit more genuine now as she smoothed her daughter's hair once more. "Now go get some breakfast in you before your lessons with Lori. You need to keep your strength up." Carol ducked and slipped out of the tent, disappearing to the lake for laundry duty, leaving Sophia standing by herself.

Sophia sighed and picked up Judith, the worn out doll she had managed to save throughout all the havoc and relocations the group had dealt with. She looked the doll over, gently touching the smudges of dirt and grime that covered its face, and rubbing the hem of the doll's torn pink dress between her thumb and forefinger.

"You've been through all of this with me, Judy, and still you smile. If you can make it, I can, too." Sophia's smile grew over her small face, and she hugged the doll with all the love and adoration a ten-year-old girl can only bestow on her imaginary friends. Looking at Sophia's constant hanging-on of the toy, no one could understand why she clutched it like a talisman everywhere she went, but if they heard her reasoning they would see the wisdom of it.

Sophia kept the doll with her because the toy's painted on smile that never waivered gave her hope for a new world, and a brighter tomorrow. Her mother's words mixed with the actual reality of things never helped much, but seeing something as inconsequential as the toy she'd had since early childhood still smiling while covered in filth, wearing a torn dress, facing all the problems that Sophia was facing, made things seem just a little better.

Sophia tucked her prized possession under her arm and headed out into the world to face the day. With Judith at her side she could do anything.


	2. Carl

**Sorry it's taken me so long to get this new chapter up, but I've been busy with classes and such. Thank you to those who have followed the story and have waited patiently for this new installment. Enjoy.**

**~Chayne**

**Chapter 2: Carl**

Carl could clearly see his father, lying in a hospital bed covered in dingy white sheets, as the walkers converged around his unmoving form. The group of walkers only numbered about ten, but they were still ugly and vicious with hunger, their flesh rotting away from their faces as they moved, as if the decaying process was being fast-forwarded.

The group of geeks pounced on the easy meal that Rick's body had become. Half of the walkers were ripping chunks of Rick's flesh off with their teeth, the other half tearing pieces of his body away with their fingers before placing them in their mouths. Blood sprayed everywhere, bathing the walls in a sickening scarlet. The blood continued to gush from the wounds, never slowing, though surely Rick couldn't have that much blood in his body.

"Dad!" Carl screamed from outside Rick's room door. "Dad, wake up! Fight back! Get away from him you filthy walkers!" Carl shouted at the top of his lungs, and pounded on the glass viewing window, but the walkers didn't even notice him; none of them looked up from their food, or even acknowledged that another living meal existed beyond the exit. The geeks just continued to feast on Rick's body.

Tears streamed down Carl's face as he watched the horrid scene in front of him. He tried to look away, but he couldn't seem to turn his gaze from the mortifying scene in front of him. There were other walkers moving around behind him, but for some reason they didn't notice him either, and he didn't care about them seeing him at this point. All he could hope was that his father, while in his comatose state, hadn't felt any pain as the walkers ate him alive.

Suddenly Rick's head rose from the pile of writhing geeks, part of his right cheek torn away to reveal the muscles and tendons underneath, and a large bite taken from the middle of his throat. He was covered in blood, and his eyes wore both anger and agony. "Why, Carl?" Rick was whispering to his son, but Carl still heard Rick as clearly as if he'd spoken right next to him. "Why would you let them kill me this way, son? Why?"

The ear-shattering scream tore itself from Carl's throat as he shot straight up on his cot. Tears rolled slowly down the boy's cheeks, and he sucked in a hiccupping breath as another sob escaped him. He'd had nightmares every night since Shane told him and his mom that Rick had died at the hospital, but none compared to this one. This one was so graphic, so vivid in detail, that Carl could have sworn that it was reality. He brought his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he rocked slowly back and forth to comfort himself.

There was a soft russling outside the tent, and Carl gasped, cringing away from the entrance as much as he could. The walkers had come for him. They had murdered his father, his mother, Shane, the rest of the camp, and now they were going to kill him, too.

Lori burst through the opening so quickly that she nearly tore the front flap from the rest of the tent. "Carl, baby, what's wrong? Did you see a walker?" Her eyes bugged slightly out of her skull just as they always did when she was shocked, scared, or determined. They held nothing but concern for her son, and the rest of the group, as they scanned the entirety of the small tent in a few seconds.

Carl breathed a sigh of relief, and climbed back onto his cot. There were no walkers here to eat him.

"I'm alright, mom. I just had a nightmare, that's all." Carl shook his head at himself, and flashed a smile at his mother. His shaky smile was strained, but she seemed comforted by it anyway.

Lori took three short steps and perched on the edge of Carl's cot, patting the space next to her. Carl climbed back onto the makeshift bed, and sat beside his mother, leaning into her side. She wrapped a loving arm around him, and rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

"What was the dream about, Carl?" Lori looked down at her son, using her free hand to brush his short bangs out of the way of his eyes.

Carl sighed, his head drooping forward slightly as if he were ashamed at what his subconscious had created. "I was outside dad's room in the hospital, and there was a horde of walkers gathered around him, tearing him apart and eating him, and I was screaming for him to wake up and fight, and pounding on the glass, but I couldn't get in there to help him, and then he sat up, and he asked me why I had let this happen to him." The boy's shoulders shuddered as his breath caught in his throat, his eyes watering again.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry." Lori leaned over and kissed Carl's forehead, then laid her cheek on top of his head, sliding both of her arms tightly around him. Carl's tremors increased with his tears, and Lori pulled him closer.

"Dad didn't get eaten by walkers, okay? He may have passed on, but he passed on in a more peaceful manner, and he's in a better place now. You have to remember that." Lori tilted her son's chin upward just enough to look into his eyes. The boy nodded slowly, and sniffled, trying so hard to believe that that could be true.

"Guess what, kiddo? Shane said he was going to teach you how to work the radio today. So how about you go get something to eat, and then go see if he's done with his work for the day, okay?" Lori smiled in a way that seemed almost reassuring, and Carl took the cue to smile back at her.

"Alright, mom. That sounds like fun." Carl stood and pecked Lori's cheek before darting out of the tent to go find Shane, leaving his mother staring after him.

Lori told Carl what she knew he needed to hear regarding his father's death, but she wished that she, too, could believe her own lies.


End file.
