CHAPTER FIVE         the escape

"I figured... since we're the only two kids here, it would be nice to get to know each other."

I LEAN AGAINST THE COLD WALL of the train car, trying to look tougher than I feel. My ribs ache every time I breathe, and the pipe Abraham gave me shakes slightly in my hands, no matter how hard I grip it. 

Everyone's preparing. Making makeshift weapons out of scraps, whispering plans. Abraham, who looks like he wrestled tanks in another life, ripped a metal bar from the wall and handed it to me without a word. I took it, like I know what to do with it. Like I've killed more than two ghouls close ranged. 

Carl stands beside me- II can make out the outline of his stupidly big sheriffs hat through the dark. He's quiet, but finally speaks. Low, almost like he's unsure if he should be talking to me. "Were you alone out there?"

His question hits like a punch to the gut. "Why does it matter?" I retaliate, running my finger along the edge of the broken pipe. It's sharp enough to  hurt. 

He says nothing for a while, before saying, "Just asking. I figured... since we're the only two kids here, it would be nice to get to know each other." 

I want to laugh at his optimism, but it catches. I'm too tired. Too angry. I yawn instead,  ready to deflect, but Rick's voice slices through the tension. "Yall know what to do. Go for their eyes first. Then their throats."

My heart pounds so hard it hurts. My fingers tighten on the pipe. I have to be ready. 

The ceiling opens above me and explodes with light, blinding me. 

The flashing goes off like the end of the world- the blast hits so hard, I drop the pipe and clamp my hands over my ears. I can't see. I can't hear. I don't know where Carl is until he bumps into me- I latch onto his arm like a lifeline. My mind spins. I want to scream, but I can't hear my own voice. Smoke fills my lungs and my mouth tastes like acid. My eyes water. I'm choking, trembling, digging my fingers into Carl's arm with any strength I have left. 

It isn't the way I pictured it in books or movies. There's no adrenaline-fueled clarity. Only fear.

Carl shakes me, yelling something. I blink hard, trying to clear my swimming vision. 

"They took Dad! They took Dad!" His voice cuts through, raw with panic. 

"What?" I shout shakily, unsure if I actually even made a sound. 

"They took Dad! And Daryl, and Glenn, and Bob!"

The four different versions of Carl morph into two, and then slowly back into one. I don't know who Glenn or Bob are, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that they took Rick and Daryl. 

"What do we do?" I ask, voice shaking. 

"We need to get our asses out there and show them who they're fucking with," Abraham answers, like he's ready to fight a war.  

"No."

The word slices through the silence, laced with a Southern drawl and  authority. "We need to let Rick handle this," Maggie decides, stepping through the dim light in the car. Her hair's frizzy, eyes too wide. She tries to sound calm, but her voice wobbles just enough to show her nerves. "He knows what he's doing."

She stops near us and places a hand on Carl's shoulder. "He's the toughest man I know."

Carl nods, staring down at the floor like he wishes it could open and swallow him. 

I swallow hard. My heart's going crazy in my chest, but I keep my arms crossed and jaw tight. No one's looking at me. I'm glad, because I'm one breath away from a full-blown panic. 

"And what if they don't?" Abraham argues, sharp and angry. "What if they kill 'em, we're just gonna sit around 'ere like ducks?"

The woman shoots him a look, stepping away from us. "They will."

"Let's be realistic, honey."

Realistic? Nothing about this is realistic. This is straight out of a horror movie- something that's not actually ever supposed to happen.

Another woman with hair pulled back from her face that wore a concerned, fearful expression- Tara- steps forward. "Stop! They're gonna be fine," she says, but it sounds like she's trying to convince herself more than us. "And until they come back for us, we need to prepare."

 "Yall can sit here and wait-" Abraham starts but is quickly cut off by the distant sound of an explosion. The entire car shakes- I flinch so hard that I crash into Carl. Again.

He steadies me automatically and I pull away just as fast. "You seem to save me a lot," I mutter, forcing the corner of my lips into a smirk even though my stomach's clenched anxiously. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to brush me off. "It's not my fault you keep falling for me."

The boy immediately looks like he wants to disappear. "I mean- not like that."

I let his awkward stammer hang in the air while I bend down to grab the pipe I dropped, aching all over. My fingers shakily grip it like a lifeline. 

"What's happening?" someone whispers. Screams bleed through the walls. The gunfire. My spine stiffens. We all freeze- waiting, listening.

Then, a matter-of-factly voice, too casual for what's happening around us: "Before the outbreak, I helped engineer harmful diseases to fight other harmful diseases."

I turn toward him so quickly that my neck twinges. It's Eugene- he continues rambling, still weirdly composed. 

"My team devised a system that could kill all humans on the planet — and that same system might be able to kill off the walkers."

My breath catches. Is there really a cure? Could everything we've lost somehow mean something now? 

Could Dad have been saved?

"What's the cure, Eugene?" Tara asks.

 "It's classified."

Of course it is.

"We don't know what's gonna happen," she says, voice tight with fear.

 "You leave him be," Abraham snaps.

Eugene recites it all like he's reading from a textbook, like we're not inside a literal nightmare. "... weaponize diseases to fight weaponized diseases. Pathogenic microorganisms with pathogenic microorganisms. Fire with fire." 

My mouth hangs as I try to process his words, but all I can hear is the roar in my ears. I breathe out, "What the f-"

The door flies open, sunlight exploding into the car. If I squint hard enough, I can vaguely make Rick's figure out. "Come on! Fight to the fence!"

We scramble out of the car and into the chaos. Smoke. Screams. Literal ghouls on fire. People being eaten alive. 

I can't breathe.

My chest locks up, tight and squeezing, like someone's sitting on it. The thick air- black, burning- scratches my throat like sandpaper. 

"Elody, c'mon," Daryl grunts, pulling me away from the car. I good, too stunned to speak, gripping the pipe so hard my knuckles turn white. 

A ghoul lunges out of the smoke- I scream, swinging. The pipe sinks into its skull with a wet crunch. The thing drops, taking my pipe tot he ground with it. I try to tug it out, but I can't. 

It's stuck.

"Daryl!" I scream, but he's already gone. 

I'm alone.

Surrounded by walking death.

My ears ring. Everything is too loud and too quiet, all at once. Muffled screams under the rushing blood in my head. My knees nearly buckle- my heart slams against my ribs, too fast, too hard and my vision swims.

More ghouls shuffle toward me, rotten fingers reaching. They're monsters- they can smell my sweat and sense my pulse under my skin. They know I'm terrified. 

My hands shake too badly to do anything. I cry out, tears blurring my vision. My entire body seizes. My stomach twists like I might throw up and my legs are jelly. Absolutely useless. 

I let out a choked sob, whipping around 

This is it. 

This is how I die.

All the fighting, running, fear. All that surviving. And this is where it ends.

One reaches for me with yellowed fingernails. I scream, shoving it, the heel f my hand slamming into its chest. It staggers back only for another to take its place. 

The only defense I have is raw panic and the will to not die. I slam my elbow into one's jaw. Kick at another's knees. My hands are slick with sweat and my heart is beating so fast I'm scared that it'll give out. "Get away!" I shriek. But they keep coming. I keep fighting. Clumsy, desperate, and terrified.

Just as I'm about to accept my violent, gory end, there's gunfire, and the ghouls begin to drop like dominos. "Elody!" Rick shouts, running toward me with a determination furrowed in his brow. He rips the pipe free in one swift motion, splattering dark blood across both our faces. He doesn't flinch- just shoves the weapon back into my hands. I grip the metal, slick with blood, and we run. 

I don't know where we're going, but I follow Rick like he's the only solid thing left in the world. My entire body buzzes- legs burning, lungs on fire, but I keep moving, because stopping isn't an option. 

We round the corner and I nearly slam into Carl.  He's tucking his gun back into its holster, panting, blood on his sleeves.  "You okay?"

I nod fast- too fast. My heart's still trying to punch its way out of my chest, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to throw up. 

Rick waves us forward. "To the fence!"

It's a maze to dodge overturned carts and dead bodies. The fence looms ahead like a beacon of freedom. Smoke stings my eyes, but I keep going. 

Then I see her. A woman, maybe in her early-twenties, pinned under a chunk of metal. She reaches toward us, screaming for help. A ghoul crawls toward her, dragging its useless legs. She's not gonna make it.

I freeze. Just for a second.

It's on her before anyone can reach her. Her screams twist into something high and broken, that sends a shiver down my spine. Carl's hand wraps around my arm, yanking me forward before I can watch the rest.

Rick doesn't hesitate to grab my waist and hoist me up. I don't want help- I hate it- but I don't  fight. I grab the wire, boots slipping against the metal, and pull myself up with shaking limbs. 

I nearly fall. Hands grab me from the other side- I've never met before, man with a head of dark hair. I hit the gravel hard. Mi ribs flare in pain- I curl into my side, just long enough to breathe, just long enough to want to cry.

Once Rick's finally over, he instantly nods , signaling us to move. ""The hell are we still around here for?" Abraham demands. "Guns, some supplies," Rick answers without slowing. "Go along the fences. Use the rifles. Take out the rest of 'em."

I trail behind the group, stoping a few feet away to rest my hands on my knees, trying to keep the nausea at bay. As the adrenaline ebb, that  stabbing pain in my side is making itself known again.

I hear something that cuts through everything.

Laughter.

I look up, blinking against the sun that filters through the treetops. Daryl's hugging a woman covered in dirt. Rick's face lights up, and he pulls her in too. He laughs. The sound is strange, it almost doesn't make sense.

Carl meets my eye and gives me a small nod, gesturing that we're moving again. I drag myself behind the group, wincing with each step. Even though my body feels like it's going to fall apart, I keep moving. 

We eventually reach a cabin tucked in the trees. Out front, a dark man with a bright smile cradles a baby. A real baby, with soft blonde hair and chubby fingers. I have to do a double take.

Rick drops his bag in disbelief, stumbles forward, eyes locked on the child. He turns to Carl, whose face lights up into a grin that suits him too well. And then they're running. Rick, Carl- both crying, both laughing- grabbing that baby like she's everything and more.

Everyone begins to gather around, talking fast, hugging, crying. There's a wave of relief that floods through the clearing. There's smiles, tears, people reuniting. Like everything's going to be okay now.

It should feel good.

I can't watch. I just-  can't.

I slip away, back into the trees, heart thumping like I'm still frozen in the middle of the ghouls. I can't stand there and watch, and pretend to be happy when all I want to do is scream.

Because I'm jealous.

I wish it was me. It should be me. I should be the one running into someone's arms. 

But there's non one left for me to ruin to.

I stop walking and just stand there. Staring at the ground, watching the ground blur with tears into different shades of brown.  My chest hurts so bad- not just my ribs, but everything.

I drop to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been snipped. I sit back against the tree and hug my knees, even thought it makes everything hurt worse. I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek, hard, to stop myself from crying. It doesn't work.

I don't want to be alone anymore.

I don't want to be this brave kid everyone I love expected me to be. I don't want to shoot things in the head. I don't want to carry a knife. I don't want to have to be strong.

I want my mom.

I want someone to hold me and tell me it'll be okay, and I want it to be true.

But it's not. It won't ever be.

I wish Rick would've left me there.

I press my hand to my mouth and sob. Real, messy sobs- the kind where your face scrunches up and you can't breathe and your entire body shakes.

And I hate it. I hate that I'm crying like a little kid again. I hate that I'm this messy wreck when everyone else is fine. I feel stupid, and small, and weak.

I can't stop, so I sit there, hiding in the trees, sobbing into my hands. And I don't know how I'm supposed to keep going.