𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒.
chapter thirty-five; Big White House
"  You don't talk about your dad a lot. "

ZEPPELIN WILLIAMS KNEW very well that her mother would be pissed when she found out she had not, in fact, gotten on the bus.

  But she didn't know how she was supposed to, not when her friends and family weren't on the bus. Not when her mother and uncle and best friend were nowhere to be found.

  Zeppelin had gotten off the bus seconds after climbing onto it, running through gunfire and explosions, trying to find any familiar faces-- she didn't know when she had started crying, just that she had.

  And then she spotted a familiar sheriff's hat.

  "Carl!"

  The boy turned, and he should have known it was Zeppelin before he even saw her face. It was always Zeppelin who had his back, followed his schemes, and picked him up when he was down. It was only ever her walking beside him.

  And now, here she was, framed by shrapnel and bullets, running at him with tears staining her cheeks and her unruly hair fanning out behind her, only a backpack slung over her shoulders and a bow in her hands.

  "Zep," He greeted, accepting her embrace as she crashed into him, forever a wrecking ball of kindness, "Are you hurt—?"

  "I'm fine," She said quickly, pulling away only far enough to see his face, "I can't find my mom— I can't— Hershel—"

  "Come on," He said quickly.

  Zeppelin wiped messily at her tears as Carl grabbed her hand, tugging her away.

  They made their way through the courtyard of the prison, in search for anyone else-- for Vex, Dean, Daryl, Rick-- for anyone they could find.

  "Carl!"

  Zeppelin took off toward the familiar voice just as Carl did, the two working quickly to take out the three walkers before them to reveal a bloodied Rick Grimes.

  The man cried as he embraced his son, before extending a shaky arm for Zeppelin.

  The girl did not hesitate to fold into the hug as well, accepting the embrace without a care of blood or dirt.

  "Your mom?"

  "I can't find her," Zeppelin informed, not yet ready to let go of Rick Grimes, "She told me to get on the bus-- she wanted to stay and fight."

  Rick lifted a hand to the girl's head, hugging her tighter for a moment.

  There was no way they'd find Vex Williams, not with the prison in this state, and he knew this. He knew they'd have to leave and recover before searching for the woman, who would no doubt start her own search for Zeppelin.

  Rick knew then he had to take care of the girl in Vex's stead.

  He let the kids go, looking at Carl.

  "Judith? Where is she?"

  "I don't know."

  "Lizzie and Mika had her," Zeppelin informed as Carl helped his father start to walk, "I think they were heading to the bus."

  Rick nodded, but he was clearly far away.

  They started walking, the three of them all together, and stopped when they spotted a familiar car seat. They approached it silently, Rick's cries starting when it was found empty and bloody.

  Zeppelin should have taken her. Should have grabbed her. She should've told Lizzie and Mika she could take Judith and watch her.

  She should have done something.

  The girl looked up at the sound of gunshots, through teary eyes staring as Carl shot the same walker over and over, continuing even as his gun clicked without ammo. Rick approached his son, holding the boy and telling him they had to go.

  "Come on, Zep," Rick said through his own tears, holding an arm out.

  And Zeppelin Williams could do nothing but duck under it, allowing Rick Grimes to pull her into his side and guide her away from the prison.

  Because he had lost a daughter and a wife, and Carl had lost a sister and a mother, and Zeppelin wasn't sure if her mother or her uncle had made it out.

  But she knew she had Rick and Carl. She knew she wasn't alone. So she would stay that way as long as the world would let her.

🗡

  They were walking. Zeppelin knew Carl was angry, and she knew his anger was directed at his father, but she could not comprehend why.

  So, Zeppelin stayed with Rick. As Carl forged angrily five steps ahead of them, the girl remained under Rick's arm, attempting to help him walk with his limp.

  "I have some water in my bag," Zeppelin said quietly, "You look like you need it more than I do."

  "Keep it," Rick said, "For you and Carl."

  She frowned but said nothing, only looking up to Rick when he ruffled her hair fondly.

  They walked in another hour of silence, but Rick spoke up once Carl began picking up his pace again.

  "Carl, slow down," Rick tried to no avail, "Carl, stop!"

  The boy halted, not turning to face his father.

  "We need to stay together," Rick said, "We gotta find a place with food, supplies. Hey. . . we're gonna be. . ."

  Carl looked to his father with nothing but anger in his eyes.

  "We're not alone," Zeppelin said quietly, "That's what matters right now."

  Carl did not say a word and started walking once again.

  "Go," Rick nodded to Zeppelin.

  The girl hesitated, but Rick nodded again, so the girl slipped out from under his arm and jogged up to join Carl.

  The boy glanced to her, continuing on ahead.

  "Water?"

  Carl nodded, watching Zeppelin swing her bag to her front before producing a water bottle. He accepted it as she offered, taking a sip before passing it back for her to mirror his actions before tucking it away again.

  "Thanks," He said quietly.

  Zeppelin nodded in response, continuing alongside the boy in silence.

  And then after a little while longer, just when Zeppelin was starting to wonder if anything existed beyond the road and the forest, she saw a building.

  It was an old barbecue restaurant, a stone building with a fading green roof and motorcycles parked out front.

  Carl wasn't blind to Zeppelin's pace quickening, the stretching of her neck, the hope she held as she scanned over the motorcycles for a moment.

  And he wasn't blind to her hope disappearing when she didn't recognize any of them.

  The girl joined Carl and his father as Rick opened the creaking screen door, ordering Zeppelin and Carl to wait outside and keep watch while he cleared it alone.

  "You keep watch," Carl rebutted, "You can barely stand, I'm not gonna let you go in there alone."

  "Excuse me?"

  Zeppelin rolled her lips, looking between the two nervously.

  "We've done this before," Carl said, "I'm gonna help you clear it. You should just let me do it myself."

  Rick stared at his son for a moment, the boy unflinching under his gaze. Then, the man looked to Zeppelin, who stood almost nervously, clutching the bow in her hands and pressing the toe of her shoe into the dirt beneath her feet.

  "I can keep watch," She offered quietly.

  "Alright," Rick said after a moment, patting the girl's shoulder, "You yell if you see anything."

  "You guys, too," Zeppelin said with a small smile, attempting to offer the same to Carl only for it to melt when she saw his expression of annoyance.

  The girl turned on her heel, leaning against the half-brick wall in front of the building as the two opened the door and entered behind her.

  She didn't want Carl to feel like she didn't have his back, but the last thing Zeppelin wanted to do was get on Rick Grimes's nerves.

  After all, Zeppelin had grown up on the foundation of respecting adults, biting her tongue, and keeping her mouth shut-- the freedom from her father had been short in comparison to the rest of her life, so these fickle lessons still seemed ingrained in her memory.

  So there Zeppelin sat, staring out into the forest, for all of five minutes, until she heard crashing inside. The girl stood, but waited, hearing no voices call for her.

  She ran inside, though, after hearing a gunshot.

  "Are you guys okay?" Zeppelin questioned feverishly, entering the room Carl and Rick were in. 

  They stared at her in silence for a moment, the girl taking note of the large walker at Rick's feet.

  "We're fine," Rick said, his tone softening, "Come on, find what y'all can, and let's move on."

  Zeppelin nodded, resting her bow around herself, and following Carl toward a wall of shelves.

  He worked silently, gathering bags and jars, Zeppelin did the same, grimacing as she spotted pork rinds.

  "These things are so gross," Zeppelin mumbled, "My dad loved them-- it'd make his breath smell so bad."

  Carl eyed her as she shoved them into her bag, along with three jars of pickled vegetables.

  "You don't talk about your dad a lot."

  "There's not much to talk about," Zeppelin admitted with a nervous smile, "He was. . . a bad guy. That's all there really is to it."

  Carl wanted to say more, to ask more-- all he had known about Zeppelin's father was that he wasn't a good guy and that she had killed him. 

  He wanted to understand, what had happened, why she'd done it, who he was-- but Zeppelin shrugged before he could say anything else and retreated further into the building in search of more food.

🗡

  They walked and walked and walked some more. Rick wasn't letting Zeppelin help him anymore, saying something about saving her strength for when they really needed it. So she chose to walk in between the two, to make sure the distance between the three of them never grew too large, despite the drastic difference in Rick and Carl's pace.

  She walked in silence, unable to muster anything to say to help either of their moods or to help her own.

  Zeppelin wondered if they'd find her mom. She wondered if they'd find her mom and uncle and Daryl and Beth and Maggie and Glenn-- if they'd ever find Tyreesse or Sasha or Carol or Michonne. She couldn't help it. She wanted her family back. She wanted them to all be together again, to read comics with Carl and talk about them with Michonne, to play jacks with Dean and draw with Beth, she wanted to listen to Maggie's stories and hear Glenn try to play guitar again. Zeppelin wanted games and meals and jokes with her family, she wanted life to be the way it was with all the people she had known and loved.

  She was worried it would never be like that again.

  "Hey."

  Carl halted at his father's voice, Zeppelin doing the same but turning to face Rick as he approached.

  "That one's as good as any," Rick said, looking toward a large, white house.

  It looked a lot like the house Zeppelin had grown up in. She noticed as they approached it, Rick opening the door with his gun raised, Carl doing the same. Zeppelin had her bow out, drawn back with an arrow, but her mind was elsewhere.

  She had lived in a big white house with a big white fence just like this one. Too much space, she'd always thought, for a family of three. But her father cared about these sorts of things; he cared about the size of their house and what they hung on the walls, the couch they picked and how clean everything stayed.

  Zeppelin wondered if her father had stayed in that house after she and her mom left. She wondered if he'd kept it clean or not.

  The girl followed Rick, tapping his arm worriedly as Carl peeled off. The man looked to his son and the girl whose brows were knitted in worry.

  "Carl," He called in a loud whisper.

  "I got it," The boy said defensively, "All the doors down here are open."

  "Just stop!"

  Carl lowered his gun, turning to face the two. He stood for a moment, before banging on the wall beside him.

  "Hey, asshole!" Carl yelled, "Hey, shitface! Hey--!"

  "Watch your mouth!"

  "Are you kidding me?" Carl said, "If there's one of them down there, they would have come out."

  Carl stared at his father in anger for a moment, before looking to Zeppelin. Only then did he have a twinge of regret, seeing a shocked expression-- one of fear.

  She held her breath, eyes wide, waiting for something else. For another scream, another move, anything.

  And Carl couldn't handle it so he walked away.

  "Go find a room to set up in," Rick said after a long pause.

  "Okay," Zeppelin only whispered.

  He watched the girl move slowly, before taking off up the stairs.

  Carl heard the soft footsteps walk straight past the room he'd found, and a door click open and shut beside his own.

  It was clearly a guest room, with no signs of real memories or personal effects inside of it. Just a large bed with a flower-print quilt, a wooden dresser with wilted flowers, and a white candle. The closet was pulled open, two jackets hanging over top of plastic bins pulled open, and blankets strewn about.

  Zeppelin set her bow on the dresser, letting her bag drop onto the mattress. 

  She knew it didn't matter, but she cleaned up. Re-folding the blankets tucking them into the bins and stacking them in the closet. She secured the quilt on the bed, smoothing out any wrinkles. The girl slipped her shoes off, hesitating, but deciding to try on the jackets in the closet.

  One was thin, a windbreaker-- it was large on her, but perhaps useful if the heat let up soon. The other was thick leather, clearly made for an adult man, not a pre-teen girl, but she secured it all the same, tugging her hair out of the collar and smoothing it down.

  Her mom would say she'd grow into it, that it made her look badass and she should keep it.

  So Zeppelin kept it.

  She folded it neatly, setting both jackets and her bag on the ground beside the dresser, before peeling back the quilt and climbing into the bed.

  Zeppelin wasn't sure how long she had laid there, or if sleep was close or far away.

  She heard the door creak open, and whoever had done it hesitated before speaking.

  "Zep?" Carl called quietly, "Are you awake?"

  Zeppelin wasn't sure why she didn't answer, but she didn't. And after a moment, Carl left her by herself, in a room that had never belonged to anyone.

WORD COUNT : 2470