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M E G A N

Entering the empty cell block corridor, I subtly turn my head in both directions to see if anyone is coming in behind me. After closing the door, I wait a few seconds for the sound of echoing footsteps to pass by.

When the sound of the footsteps fade, I walk towards the old prison lockers that we currently use to keep our food supply in.

My part in our plan is to stockpile the necessities.

Carl and I both volunteered to be on watch duty for the next week and a half. We even sleep in the west guard tower now, so nobody will come looking for us when we're not in our cells at night.

I remove my drawstring bag from my back and pull it open. I grab two sticks of deodorant, some toothbrushes, one bottle of toothpaste, and a hairbrush.

Because Carl and I have been stockpiling the food for a few days, we're pretty set on what little we can carry with us. And the last things we need are the things I'm supposed to gather in the next few days.

My eyes land on a box of chocolate chip granola bars. I stick my hand in the box and take out a fistful of them, shoving them in my bag. I close the box and put it back in its original position in the locker so no one notices.

Part of myself feels bad that I'm taking supplies from a group that's grown to trust me. The other part is afraid someone will see me taking them and will assume that I've been playing them all along, like the prisoner they think I am.

I quietly close the locker and swing my bag over my shoulder. Sucking in a deep breath, I grab the handle and prepare myself to walk outside and pretend like I'm not carrying stolen goods.

The courtyard remains relatively calm as the kids are at storytime with Carol, and the adults' work shifts are almost all over.

"Hey Megan," I hear a voice say. I turn around to see Karen."Would you like some dinner?" She asks me, offering me an unlabeled tin can and bag of beef jerky in her hand.

"Sure," I smile to the woman and take the items from her hand. "Thanks."

"No problem." The woman smiles to me as she turns back to her work post at the pavilion.

Another part of our plan to stockpile, has been to take a good amount of our meals and stockpile them too. With a huff, I twist my pack around and shove the food inside, on top of all of the other contraband.

I successfully cross the courtyard and enter the gate to the field. Approaching the guard tower I've recently taken residence in, I see the silhouette of the boy and his sheriff's hat sitting on the top, with his feet dangling off below the railing.

I swing open the door to the guard tower and climb up the stairs, adjusting the drawstring bag on my back. Swinging back my bag, I open the latch.

As I climb up the ladder, I hear footsteps approaching. Soon, Carl comes into view and surprisingly offers me a hand. We interlock hands with the use of our thumbs and he helps to pull me up the rest of the way into the guard tower.

The boy's been a lot nicer to me ever since I agreed to take part in his scheme.

"What'd you get?" The boy asks.

"Deodorant, dental stuff—" I trail off. "What else do we need now?"

I place my bag on the floor and kneel next to it, flipping it upside down and causing the supplies pour out next to our to the rest of our stuff. My knees bend farther as I lean back and look at the pile.

Every item of supply here looks the same as when I last left it. So far, almost all of the supplies here are what I've accumulated. I turn my head to Carl as I realize he hasn't yet held up his end of the deal.

He was supposed to gather the weapons.

The boy stands there and looks at me.

"You haven't gotten them yet?" I angrily look at Carl.

"Look," He started, obviously about to spew some bullshit to calm me down. "When we first got here, my dad said there was probably an armory nearby." He says in a determined voice.

"I found this map of the prison complex," The boy says, taking out a folded pamphlet from his back pocket. "There's an armory in the direction we were headed anyways."

"But we'll need weapons to even get to there in the first place, Carl." I bluntly state.

"Well," The boy sighs. "My dad took my gun, so can I use yours since I'm a better shot?" He says, opening his hand out to me.

I shake my head and pull my pistol out of my holster, placing the gun in the palm of the boy's hand.

"You know," I start, exiting my brief state of anger. "Glenn just got the showers set up. It's a shame we won't get to use them."

"We'll have all the time in the world to shower." Carl rolls his eyes.

"Yeah," I mutter. "In rainwater."

☆

The wooden pole that I'm holding snaps within my grip. I still manage to get the sharp end through the walker's mushy skull. "Shit," I roll my eyes and drop the fragmented pieces of wood on the ground.

"Here," Patrick—one of the new kids—says as he hands me his metal rod. "I'm not of much help here anyway."

The sheepish boy has spent the first ten minutes of our shift stalling from actually having to look a walker in the face. His clean clothes and his apron lack the rogue traces of blood that litter the rest of us. But, ultimately, what matters is that he's even trying to do something of importance. His reasoning being something along the lines of wanting to be like Daryl.

I take the rod from his grasp and jam it into another walker. I take a step back from the fence and notice that the cluster of the dead has gotten smaller and smaller.

"Well then make yourself useful while I go get some water." I hand the rod back to the boy, who's been hesitant about killing walkers the whole time we've been on this shift.

I don't give the boy the opportunity to respond before I start walking down the gravel road to the guard tower. My feet drag themselves up the stairwell in the guard tower before I climb up the ladder.

I take a swig from the gallon of water that Carl and I have been sipping on throughout the day to preserve our supply. Screwing the plastic cap back on the jug, I kneel down and place it next to the rest of our stuff.

Barely turning around in time, I hear the latch on the guard tower swing open.

"Hey I was wondering if—" The boy, Patrick says as he reveals himself from the stairwell. "Woah," his eyes widen at the supply of food on the floor.

"What's all this?"

My mind races with ideas. "What's what?"

The boy points to the floor. "All of that."

"Don't you have to get to story time?"

"No." He bluntly states, the blushing feeling of embarrassment showing on his pale face. "Now tell me what that is or," Patrick trails off. "Or, I'll go get Daryl."

"Fine," I roll my eyes. "But don't tell anyone, especially Daryl."

The boy nods in response, still standing in the stairwell of the guard tower, right as I get to thinking.

"Carl and I went on a run." I start. "We went by ourselves and we didn't want anyone to know, and they'd know if they saw the extra supplies." The lie rolls off my tongue.

The boy's face reads no expression as he processes the information told to him.

"You two went on a run?" He asked, gawking at the thought. "What was it like?"

Never actually having been outside of these walls, I try to form a complete thought relating to the outside.

"Like you're the only person in existence," I start regurgitating both Carl and Beth's descriptions of the outside world. "No moving cars, no people, no sounds."

"Sounds pretty weird. I haven't been out there since the start of it all." The boy murmurs. "Woodbury was built right after the outbreak."

Me neither, buddy.

"Well," I swallow the lie in my throat. "I have and it isn't pretty."

"Okay, I won't tell Daryl," Patrick speaks up. "If you give me some of that water."

"Deal." I say, handing him the gallon, unscrewing the cap before I do so.

"Thanks," The boy says right before sucking in a breath and taking a swig of water from the plastic jug. "My throat's been killing me all day. I definitely don't drink enough water."

"Yeah, a morning shift in the blazing sun doesn't really help all that much." I say as he hands the gallon over to me. I take one last sip before I screw the cap back on.

"Speaking of the morning shift," I huff. "Let's get back before someone else comes looking for us."

☆

After a long day of being paranoid about somebody else stumbling across our supplies, I'm finally able to return to the guard tower.

Pushing up the latch and climbing up the ladder from the stairwell, I see the stockpile and sigh in relief, not knowing what else I was expecting. I close the latch behind me and look around at the place I've taken residence in for the past week.

Two sleeping bags lie lazily arranged on either side of the tower. One has a sheriff's hat resting on its surface and the other lies plain.

"What was that kid doing in here earlier?" A stern voice speaks from behind me.

I turn around to see Carl sitting on the side of the guard tower with his feet dangling off the edge. He's accompanied on the floor by his small, hand-held flashlight that illuminates the small room. He hardly faces my direction as he waits for my response.

"He came up here to get some water and saw the pile." I start, getting directly to the point. "I lied. Told him that we went on a run by ourselves."

A chuckle erupts from the kid. "And he actually bought it?"

"Yeah." I say and walk near Carl, taking a seat next to him on the edge, but sitting criss-cross. "It wasn't very hard."

"Well at least our plan is still between us." He says, finally facing me. "I was worried when I saw you two walk out of here together earlier."

"I didn't tell him a thing," I hesitate. "No matter how guilty I feel about all of this."

"You won't feel guilty anymore in a few days." The boy swings his legs off the edge and faces me. "And besides, we can come back any time we want."

I shrug. "I'm more scared of what'll happen if we do end up coming back. I mean, who do you think would get more of the blame?"

The boy snickers. "Definitely you."

"Thanks for sugarcoating it." I roll my eyes.

The boy looks around and returns his feet back over the edge of the tower. He looks around blankly at the trees and the darkness.

Both of us drift off into a comfortable silence as we look toward the forest. The trees swaying with the breeze only appear as soft shadows because our only source of light is Carl's handheld flashlight.

I look over at his face and realize he's consumed by his thoughts. Which is how he often choose to spend his time. Similar to me.

In silence.

This kid wants to run away just to sit in silence outside of these walls. Silence would help us survive as a defense mechanism against the dead. But the other silence between us has also become comfortable—as opposed to the tense muteness of the boy's own group.

Throughout the duration of my closer proximity to Carl, I've grown to understand things that the boy appreciates. But I'm only starting to connect them with his desire to return to the outside.

I'm also—only slightly—failing to understand why I even agreed to our plan, in the first place.

This plan tests what little trust I have in Carl, as well as my humanity every single time I think it over.

My thought never completes itself as the flashlight that's illuminating the room flickers before completely shutting off. We now sit in the dark.

"Well," Carl sighs. "I guess that's our cue to hit the hay." He says as he stands up.

"And to add batteries to the list of things that we need."

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2103 words

A/N
I'm working day and night to crank out these edited chapters :ppp

THANK U SO MUCH FOR READING XOXO

edit August 14, 2022:

I'm reading EE over again to get inspo to write chapter 40 (iykyk) and I'm blown away by how mediocre this chapter is in particular. i edited it just a bit and added a few fluff sentences, but if you're reading this you're a trooper and I literally love u

☆leave a vote if s4 Carl is agg☆