⊱ 08 ~ ❝ dead or dead-dead ❞ ⊰
〖season two, episode one〗

After the detonation of the CDC ⎯⎯ Jacqui and Dr. Edwin Jenner's physical forms were erased from existence. The explosion also took many of their left-behind belongings, such as Jim's duffle bag and all the clothing inside.

Not even Clementine's holey socks survived the blast, but she preferred having no socks instead of only part of her foot being clothed inside. She hoped there would be plenty of new clothing at Fort Benning, but according to Shane, it was an Army base. So, she didn't believe there was much promise for that ⎯⎯ at least not children's clothing.

A day into driving for Fort Benning, the caravan of cars was reduced down to the RV, Jeep Cherokee, and Daryl's motorcycle to preserve gas. They seemed to lose gas faster than the miles were passing.

Clementine had to accompany those in the RV, stuck listening to the insufferable repetition of Shane cleaning the damn guns for hours on end. The atmosphere of the RV alone was enough to drive her mad.

She sat on the floor, up against the RV's kitchen cabinets across from the booth and table where Andrea and Shane sat opposite of each other. Realizing she had been left with only the clothes on her body to remember her family ⎯⎯ it put her in one hell of a sour mood. A Linkin Park shirt that didn't even fit her, her red jacket, jeans, and sneakers ⎯⎯ were all she had.

"Looks complicated," Andrea mumbled, sounding defeated at her abilities with the weapon.

"Sounds annoying." Clementine groaned rubbing her eyes tiredly. In a rocky RV, she couldn't sleep for shit, and it was showing in the subtle bags under her eyes that the most sleep she had gotten in days was the one night in the CDC.

"The trick is getting all these pieces back together the same way. I could clean yours." Shane offered, glancing sideways at Clementine ⎯⎯ disliking her attitude. "Show you both how to."

Clementine pushed up off the old carpet covering the RV floor, sliding into the booth beside Andrea.

It piqued her interest a little to know how to clean a gun ⎯⎯ how to use it was more intriguing. She wanted to be able to depend on herself. There wasn't always someone to scoop you up and carry you to safety, and she realized that over and over again over the past couple of days.

There was only so much time in the day ⎯⎯ they couldn't be watching out for her every second.

So, yeah. A gun seemed tempting to learn how to use even for a child.

• ───────────────── •

Within a few seconds of driving through a car-jammed highway, the RV burst with smoke and let out a high-pitched whistling noise. That damn radiator hose was barely hanging on.

Lori wasn't too keen on raiding the long-abandoned vehicles for supplies, and Clementine couldn't blame her.  She wouldn't be too happy either if she was one of the dead people looking down on survivors rummaging through her belongings ⎯⎯ but they were desperate for clean clothes, food, water, gas ⎯⎯ the list of desirables went on.

When everyone funneled out of their vehicles, Clementine followed after T-Dog, who made it clear he'd be scavenging for gas with an old plastic tube and gas can. She'd never seen or heard of someone taking gas that was already inside of a vehicle, so wanted to see the process for herself.

T-Dog flipped open a gas cap, bending over to and breathing in the scent. When it didn't smell up to par for what he was looking for ⎯⎯ his face fell into frustration. "Nope..." He muttered to himself, leading the way to the next car.

A man in overalls was on the ground face down against the road's pavement, and T reached out, grabbing Clementine's shoulder to stop her.

"Stay here." He spoke quietly, taking increasingly slow steps towards the body.

Begrudgingly ⎯⎯ she listened. Clementine stopped right where he asked her to, but watched closely as he fearfully approached. It didn't move an inch in the whole minute it took him to walk up to it, and yet he still softly nudged the toe of his shoe into its shoulder. The second his foot tapped the dead man's shoulder he quickly skidded back two steps, his fists tightening in anticipation.

Clementine couldn't help but snort at the sight of him being so scared of a  ⎯⎯ what she thought ⎯⎯ clearly dead body. "I think he's gone-gone."

"Yeah, I think you're right, kid."

"Clementine." She corrected with a frown. "I call you what you want to be called."

T nodded in a subtle realization. "You're right. Sorry, 'bout that. Clementine." He bumped her shoulder teasingly, gaining a smile from her at the friendly action. "A pretty name, isn't it?"

She pressed her lips together in thought. "Are you asking me to tell you that it's pretty or to agree with you that it's pretty." It sounded condescending, but her intention was genuine ⎯⎯ not sure what he was trying to say.

"Good question." He mumbled, opening another gas cap. "I think it's pretty," T said with a finality. "What-d'you think?"

"I don't know." She shook her head, looking down at the ground. It wasn't something she thought about ⎯⎯ why would she?

Casual conversation wasn't something she ever knew how to start ⎯⎯ she could jump into topics that interested her, and give her opinion whether it was wanted or not, but starting a discussion just stressed her out.

They walked along, him busting open gas caps, and continuing to walk when it failed to smell of any gas. Clem walked just a step behind him, jumping over the limbs of bodies like hopscotch. "So..." She mumbled, thinking hard and wanting the awkward silence to end. They had just been talking about her name, so she figured it would only be right if she asked about his. "What's a T-Dog?"

He glanced back over his shoulder at her, smiling at the question ⎯⎯ he had probably been asked all the time. "Theodore Douglas was too long for my college football coach, so he settled on T. My buddies added the dog."

Clementine audibly hummed to herself. "Is that what you want to be called?"

T stopped, his hand on his hip while the other held onto the gas can and tube. "Yeah... T, T-Dog. They've got good memories. Can't drop it now."

She kicked a loose pebble of cement, knocking it just far enough so she could kick it again. "I've never been given a nickname like that before." It wasn't something she had ever considered, but now that he had told her how the name came along, she wished someone had wanted to give her a nickname. "Everyone just calls me baby names... I'm not a baby ⎯⎯ you know?"

He nodded despite an uncertainty dancing in his eyes, obviously, she was just a kid. Just a little girl left all by herself ⎯⎯ but she wanted desperately for someone to treat her as just a regular human being. Someone they were surviving with, not a child that needed to be babysat every second. "Of course." He turned fully to face her, thinking to himself. "What's your favorite animal?"

"What? A frog, why?" She answered ⎯⎯ confused as hell by the sudden topic switch.

"Okay, I'll call ya' froggy."

Her nose scrunched instinctually at the nickname ⎯⎯ but she smiled at the same time. "Froggy?"

"Yeah, Froggy for sure. Look at you jumpin' around."

She stopped before she jumped over a piece of metal, realizing she was in fact doing that. "Okay." Clem smiled again. All her life she'd only been called Clem, Clementine, and in terms of endearment like, sweetheart. Suddenly, she wanted to hug him, hard and tell him she loved him ⎯⎯ but felt that'd be uncomfortable for him.

Daryl walked by quickly, on a mission to get to the next vehicle. Clementine didn't even know he was around. "Here." He grunted, one of his arrows sideways in his mouth.

Clem grimaced at the sight ⎯⎯ wondering how many animals ⎯⎯ but also dead people he had put down with that arrow and was now holding between his lips casually. "That don't look very sanitary."

"Ah, this is a good one." T declared, smiling from ear to ear as Daryl moved on, disappearing into the piled-up cars.

"A good one?"

"Mmhm," He confirmed. "Can't you smell it?"

She watched her step, lifting her foot over someone's forgotten bag. Through her nose, she breathed in deeply, getting a huge punch in the face of Gasoline. A smell she could remember her mother nonstop speaking of loving so much she'd drink it if she could. Every time they got to the gas station, Marie would roll down her window while Jim filled up the car ⎯⎯ talking to her husband all while relishing in the scent of it. The sentiment Clementine didn't relate to whatsoever.

When it hit her, she swallowed hard, feeling as though the odor was building up into a cloud in her esophagus. T-Dog chuckled to himself, shoving the tube into the opening as he smiled at her reaction.

He brought the other end to his lips, using it like a jumbo straw and sucking in hard until the gas came rushing up the translucent tube.

Clementine gasped at the sight when the liquid came rushing up. He quickly shoved the same end into the gas can ⎯⎯ spitting on the road below, and the substance flowed through the translucent tube.

"Ew..." She exclaimed, almost tasting it herself. "How the hell does that work? Gravity just isn't a thing?"

Wordlessly, T scratched the back of his head. "Uh..." He pondered, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for a kid just trying to learn. "The air you breathe in... it kinda, pulls it up into the tube and out... The pressure?"

She looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, lips still stuck in a disgusted frown. "I can't tell if you're asking me or telling me again..."

"No, no." He mumbled, pulling the tube out when the gas stopped coming, it hardly filled up a quarter of the can. "I'm tellin'."

"You don't sound too sure."

"I'm sure..."

"Are you sure ⎯⎯ that you're sure?" Clem asked, crossing her arms. "Actually, it doesn't matter..." She insisted, following him to another car. "Let's just pretend we know how that works."

He spit on the ground again, nodding in agreement. "Deal, Froggy." A gas cap failed to open easily, seeming to have some sort of built-in locking mechanism like the one Daryl had busted open. T-Dog looked around, searching for Daryl, in need of that crowbar. When he gets a sight of him just a couple of cars over, he points. "Hey, let's go get that crowbar from Daryl."

Clementine immediately agreed, ecstatic to take part in helping even if it meant just grabbing a crowbar for someone else to do the work. She walked ahead of T, moving around in the maze of cars.

A truck had the driver's side door wide open, Daryl standing in front of the door, leaning in and searching under the seat.

She walked up behind him, tapping his back when he didn't acknowledge her presence. Daryl spun around, crossbow pointing directly at her forehead. "Jesus fuck." He cursed illogically, dropping the crossbow to hang from his hand by his hip. "Hell, you need?"

Clementine's eyes bulged, still recovering from having the weapon so close to ending her life. She'd seen him put down walkers with that thing so many times she thought she was dead for a second. "Uh, the crowbar. T needs it." She looked over her shoulder, trying to find T, he should've been right behind her.

"He asked a kid to come get a crowbar?" He questioned, grabbing the crowbar from where he sat it down on the seat.

She sucked in a deep breath, resisting the urge to correct him. Would she ever be free from the child exterior everyone was so stuck on seeing her as?

"Yes. He did."

"Whatever." He grumbled, snatching up the crowbar from where he set it down on the truck's driver seat.

"Clem?" A harsh whisper came from somewhere behind her ⎯⎯immediately alerting Daryl. He lifted his head, standing as tall as he could, looking around in every direction.

Daryl wrapped his arm around Clementine's torso and chucked her into the truck. "Stay." He spat, ordering her like a dog ⎯⎯ the more stern you are the more likely it will listen ⎯⎯ that didn't quite work in Clementine's case.

Clementine spun in the seat as he quickly ⎯⎯ and quietly ⎯⎯ closed the door before retreating out of her sight. Through the back window of the truck, she could see the many cars and trucks piled up side by side, unmoving. But past that, she saw Rick, dropping to the cement of the road and disappearing under a car. And then they came. A whole crowd of walkers looking incredibly oblivious to the dozen people just under their noses.

Eye's widened like a doll ⎯⎯ she whipped around in the seat, searching for Daryl who wasn't visible as far as she could tell. Who also still wasn't anywhere to be seen ⎯⎯ T.

"No..." She gasped, out of breath despite sitting entirely still. "No, no, no."

Without thinking clearly, she wrenched the door open, catching Daryl's attention from behind a car. She jumped out of the truck, it being a foot or two off the ground making her landing audible to Daryl as well.

"T ⎯⎯" Daryl clamped his hand over her mouth, wrapping his arm back around her waist again to ensure she couldn't move.

"I told you to fuckin' stay." He hissed, holding her face with his palm still covering her mouth, but finally, he lifted his hand, giving her a chance to plead her case.

"T, where is he?"

Daryl glanced around, mumbling under his breath a string of curses. "C'mon."

Sticking close behind him ⎯⎯ both heard a gasp of air somewhere to the right and as they turned the corner, Clem saw T-Dog collapse to the gravelly cement, halfway leaning against a car door. "T ⎯⎯"

Daryl shoved her shoulder, telling her with no words to shut up and stay back as a walker rounded the corner, approaching T-Dog. Daryl, tossed his crossbow onto the hood of a vehicle, grabbing onto the walker and sending the blade of his knife into the base of its skull.

Clementine scurried past Daryl once he had fallen to the ground along with the walker, dropping to her knees in front of T, placing a hand on his shoulder, and swallowing hard to avoid the threatening vomit at the sight of T's dreadful state. His right arm and the right side of his shirt were completely covered in his own blood ⎯⎯ a long gash across his forearm showing exactly where it came from. It was hard to look at ⎯⎯ even harder when T was trying to croak out some words but none fully formed on his tongue

"What do we do?" Clem asked pleadingly, looking at Daryl with wide fearful eyes.

He grabbed T's ankles without another thought, dragging him flat onto his back and throwing a walker on top of him.

"What are you ⎯⎯"

"Be quiet." He hissed, his voice harsh and demanding, giving no room for her to debate on listening or not. Clearly he had enough of her not listening to him. "Get down." Daryl grabbed her shoulder. "Down, down." He repeated, waving for her to get flat on her stomach. "Get under there."

Clementine shuddered with uneven breaths, fear shaking its way through her body as she slid under a car. It sat lower than the RV, she couldn't easily crawl around underneath like she had that night the walker dragged her by her feet. But she could slide out of sight for the time being.

Daryl yanked a body out of the car she was under, pulling it on top of him, and looked at her, his face so disgustingly close to the dead man's that it made her stomach sink. But on that face, he was silently willing her to keep her damn mouth shut.

She turned to face the cement beneath her, resting her forehead against the rough texture and holding her breath. Feet shuffled by, bumping into T and Daryl without a second thought and continuing on.

When the skidding of feet faded into the distance, she still held her breath.

Once he was comfortable with the distance the walkers created from them, Daryl shoved the deceased body off of him, doing the same for T before yanking him by his shirt to sit up. "C'mon, girl." He waved, calling Clementine to come out from under there.

It hurt her knees and the palms of her hands to slide out, the textured road digging into her skin. She stood up, looking down the visible road to see if any more walkers were coming ⎯⎯ her face red from the lack of oxygen.

"Hell's wrong with you?" Daryl asked, his accent thick with confusion ⎯⎯ Clem didn't give a verbal response, stuck staring at T who seemed to be falling in and out of consciousness. Of course, she thought. Right when she makes a friend, they get taken away.

Daryl ⎯⎯ who was staring at her, perplexed when her face only got redder. He reached behind her, smacking her between the shoulder blades ⎯⎯ half expecting her to be choking on something.

Only a gasp left her lips. She flinched at the impact on her back. "Ow." She croaked dryly, heaving in oxygen for her desperate lungs.

"Jesus" Daryl grunted annoyed, shaking his head at her and turning back to T. "Go get someone." He ordered, waving his hand in the rough direction of the RV.

Clementine stumbled into a sprint through the lines of vehicles, looking at the distant roof of the RV. To her left there was a frantic squeal, making her skid to a stop ⎯⎯ holding her breath again as if it would be too loud to hear over.

"Lori, there's two walkers after my baby!" Carol cried out, running right past Clementine and toward the noise she had just heard.

Clem's eyes bulged as she looked around frantically, everyone was appearing out from under vehicles, running over to the highway's metal barrier where Carol was crying in Lori's arms. "What happened?"

• ───────────────── •

Yesterday Sophia ran. Rick went after her but ended up only coming back empty-handed. While the sun was still up, the men ⎯⎯ besides T who was injured and Dale the known lookout for the group ⎯⎯ spent the rest of the daylight out in the woods searching for the girl.

They still found nothing. The only difference between the state they were in when they left versus returned, was the walker blood covering them. It threw Carol into a deeper state of panic, and Clementine could not blame her when she took her anger out on Rick.

Most of the night Clem watched T. He slept in the back of the RV, a forbidden zone. She stared from a distance at the rise and fall of T-Dog's chest, when it stopped moving she'd hold her breath in anticipation just to let it out when his chest would ultimately rise or fall again. For as long as she could stay awake, she'd make sure he was alive and staying alive. It didn't matter that every single person she had seen turned into a walker had gotten bit first ⎯⎯ she still woke randomly in the night to the visuals of T lurching awake and attacking her.

But a new day started, and by the time the sun was lighting up every square inch of Georgia, they devised a plan to go looking for Sophia again.

They talked about the path they'd go on through the woods, toward a creek. Clementine didn't really listen, she was mulling over Sophia the entire time.

When Daryl had told her to get under that car, Clem listened, and she didn't move until Daryl deemed it safe enough to. But, Sophia somehow had the confidence to decide that moment for herself.

There wasn't any way Clementine could picture herself following through with the same steps, but she could put herself in Sophia's shoes and perhaps try and see through the girl's eyes. She'd heard about fight or flight when the local firehouse came to her school to discuss fire safety. It was clear Sophia gravitated towards flight, which in some scenarios was probably the right choice. Nobody mentioned that it might not come in handy at the end of the world when you're running away from danger and the people to protect you.

All of the group gathered beside the RV in deep discussion for the plan of action in finding the missing child.

Rick stepped up, unfolding a rollup arsenal onto the hood of a car. "Everybody takes a weapon."

Clementine stood back by the RV door, her hands itching to grab the closest handle revealed in the rollup arsenal ⎯⎯ eyes widening excitedly when he said everybody.

"These aren't the kind of weapons we need." Andrea began, seeing the arsenal was filled with melee only. "What about the guns?"

Shane shook his head, not bothering to appear less annoyed with the woman than he clearly was. "We've been over that. Daryl, Rick, and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles."

"It's not the trees I'm worried about."

"Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. See, then it's game over for all of us. So you need to get over it." Shane argued back with her, his voice holding the natural authoritative tone he always carried as a cop.

Daryl threw his crossbow over his shoulder, holding onto the strap like a backpack, and disregarding the argument over ranged weapons. Even if his name wasn't on the list of people allowed to carry — there wasn't a single plane of existence where Clem could see him abandoning his crossbow.

"The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around, and come back down the other side. Chances are she'll be by the creek. It's her only landmark."

For the sake of Sophia's mother, Clem pressed her lips tightly closed, seeling her thoughts inside so only she could hear them. Sophia had only ever been nice to her, but Clem had doubts about her considering the creek as anything but a place to get the hell away from.

"Stay quiet and stay sharp. Keep space between you but always stay within sight of each other." Rick turned away from the arsenal, leaving it to Shane and the others to dictate who got what, instead looking to Dale ⎯⎯ who was staying back on the highway with T-Dog. "Dale, keep on those repairs. We've got to get this R.V. ready to move."

It wasn't even a question, Dale had looked less than content since the moment the RV broke down on the highway. He didn't want to be stranded any more than the rest of them and surely would have the RV up and ready to go for at least enough time to backtrack. "We won't stay here a minute longer than we have to. Good luck out there. Bring Sophia back." In the Atlanta camp, Dale's presence was that of a father. He watched over the people he cared about, and he may not have known Sophia well, but he was compassionate enough to miss the innocent child.

Rick grabbed onto his son's shoulder, coaxing the boy towards him. "Keep an eye on Carl while we're gone?" He suggested, eyes squinting from the sun as he looked at Clementine. "Clementine too."

"What?" She gasped as if it were pure blasphemy ⎯⎯ interrupting before Dale could put his say in whether she would accompany them or not. "I'm coming!" The stern tone she aimed for came out high-pitched, upset to be left out. "I'm going with you."

Sitting back at the highway, watching T-Dog for many more hours sounded like torture. She'd already forced herself awake most of the night in fear of him slipping away ⎯⎯ it felt simpler if she came back from the search and he was just gone. Along with that, Dale's crushing optimism was beginning to drive her to insanity.

Carl abandoned his father's side, moving to face him instead, and stood next to Clementine. "Yeah, I'm going with you." A look of agreement passed between the children, if they had to they would tag-team these adults until they gave in. There wasn't enough time in the day to persuade the two kids not to go looking for the lost girl. "You need people, right? To cover as much ground as possible."

All three of the adults passed glances ⎯⎯ mainly Rick looking for assistance since both children were looking at him when they said it. Right then, Clem figured out Rick wasn't much of the disciplinarian in the parenting, Lori seemed better at being stern.

"You're call. I can't always be the bad guy."

"Well, he has all of you to look after him. I'd say he's in good hands . . . I can watch Clem but ⎯⎯"

Her head whipped around to face the oldest of them. "Absolutely, not!" If it wasn't ridiculous before, it surely was with that suggestion. "If Carl is going ⎯⎯ I'm going. Or . . . I can just sneak off the highway when Dale isn't looking and follow you guys." It wasn't out of character for her at all ⎯⎯ Dale and Lori knew that better than anyone when they witnessed first hand her disobeying being told to stay back when she marched up to Atlanta camp's makeshift graveyard, to find out what was going on. When she said she would, they knew she would.

A smile stretched into Lori's lips, she'd tried to suppress it, but she was far too impressed by the girl's bravery. "Okay. Okay." Rick held his Sheriff's hat to his stomach, pinching the brim in thought. He'd landed on nobody being the bad guy it seemed ⎯⎯ both children were to come with. "Fine, but you stay by each other's side. Always within our sight, no exceptions."

Clem lifted her fingertips to her forehead in a weak attempt at saluting ⎯⎯ an action she'd seen only a few times in movies. "Sir-yes-sir." She pursed her lips, turning to look at Carl. He lifted his fist offering it discretely at waist level. A successful grin broke free across her lips, and she instantly knocked her own fist against his, they'd got exactly what they wanted.

While Rick and Lori had turned away, Dale watched the silent exchange between children ⎯⎯ sending a wink down at them when they looked his way.

Her grin widened into her toothy smile ⎯⎯ there were a couple of baby teeth still hanging on, giving her teeth an uneven look, but the happiness on her face alone had Dale smiling back just as gleefully.

Almost everyone had grabbed one of the many weapons. The only people left were Andrea, Clementine, and Carl. The options were dwindling down, pushing Clementine toward the hood. She reached, lifting up onto her tiptoes for the thick handle of a machete.

"Aye!" Daryl slapped his hand down over the machete handle the second he'd seen her fingertips coming inches away. She jolted back, yanking her arm away instinctively and holding it close to her stomach before she realized he didn't actually hit her hand at all.

"Rick said⎯⎯"

"Not you Clem." Rick clarified, "Or you." He whirled to face his son, sensing Carl's shared desire to be armed with the rest of them. It was the correct assumption, immediately finding Carl's eyes stuck on the hood of the truck, eyeballing the available handles.

Not wanting to test the patience of Rick Grimes any further, Clem stepped back and crossed her arms. She'd already been granted the ability to go along with them at all ⎯⎯ Rick would've been content with leaving her under Dale's supervision, if she pushed any further he might just make it happen.

Rick reached into the arsenal, pulled out an entirely black thin object, and passed it to Carl. He furrowed his brows, not entirely sure what it was at first before his eyes lit up.

"What is it?" Clem rushed out, craning her neck to try and see.

He smiled wide, turning to show Clementine. Using his thumb he pushed down on a piece of stainless steel, and flicked the object, unsheathing a sharp blade. "Woah..." He awed, tracing the shape of it.

The amazement fell off Clementine's face into a scowl, immediately directed at Rick. Why not me? She thought before Rick grabbed her shoulder and said, "For both of you. The other ones are too big . . . won't fit in your pockets." He insisted.

A dramatic huff blew from her lips as she pouted at the knife in Carl's hands. "Okay."

It was something she'd have to live with. The other pocket knives were much bigger, heavier metal, thicker blades ⎯⎯ if she hooked it on her pants with the belt hook, it'd probably weigh so much that her pants would fall down. She could stand sharing it with Carl, he looked like he knew how to use it better than her anyway judging by how he easily opened it.

• ───────────────── •

They'd gotten only a couple of minutes into the group's trek through the woods ⎯⎯ so far the entire excursion Clementine spent watching Carl open and close the knife in a movement that was growing more fluid with each attempt.

But he'd kept looking back over his shoulder, beginning to slow his pace. Clem didn't notice immediately, having gotten distracted when Glenn stepped on a twig. "Carl?" She whispered, whirling around. It was made clear they would have to stay by each other's side at all times and she didn't want to betray that promise. She knew they didn't need any more children to go wandering off in the woods.

He wasn't lagging behind the group though, he was attempting to let Shane catch up to him ⎯⎯ sharp smile on his face ready to tell his uncle figure exactly what he was excited about, confident Shane would be just as thrilled for him. "Shane, look." He lifted the knife up to his chest level, both hands still carefully keeping it in his possession. "Dad said Clementine and I could carry it . . . and Mom said as long as I was⎯⎯"

"Keep it down." Shane hissed, baring his teeth in a grimace like a threatened dog. "We're lookin' for Sophia. You need to focus on the task."

A scoff scratched its way out of Clementine's mouth along with a heated glare. The blaze in her eyes only grew more firey when Carl's head dropped, eyes fixated on the grass.

Clementine was one for lashing out and giving an unwarranted attitude ⎯⎯ but she wanted to kick, punch, and scream at Shane in that moment for talking to Carl as if he was a waste of time. What a douchebag.

"Got to keep up," Lori waved Clementine forward, reaching back behind her son and coaxing him to walk at her same speed with her hand between his shoulder blades.

"I am." He muttered woefully, dragging his feet.

"You two okay?"

Carl sighed, passing the pocket knife to Clementine defeatedly. The enthusiasm he had for it snuffed out into dust and smoke. "I think Shane's mad at me," Lori glanced back at Shane, eyes stern. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Lori and Clementine insisted in unison. "No, honey, I promise you. He's just⎯⎯ He's worried about Sophia, that's all."

"That's no excuse," Clem grumbled, shaking her head passive-aggressively. She reached down, grabbing Carl's hand ⎯⎯ deciding to try and change the subject for him. "Will you show me how to open and close it?" She asked, one corner of her lips quirking up.

Before he could agree or disagree, the group slowed to a stop at the sight of a lime green tent ⎯⎯ and Clementine came crashing right into the back of Glenn ⎯⎯ more so his low-hanging backpack. "Jeez!" She exclaimed, getting a harsh shushing noise in response from multiple people.

Glenn turned around, eyebrows high as he abashedly whispered, "Sorry." She let out a pfft, turning to look at what everyone else seemed fixated on.

"She could be in there," Shane whispered.

"Could be a whole bunch of things in there."

Not thinking for even a second that Sophia could be inside, Clem disagreed, "She definitely isn't." If Sophia was anything like the girl Clem thought she was, she'd carry the same censure as Clementine at the sight of a lone tent in the middle of the woods. It was unsettling to imagine the whack job out there when everyone else in the world had the sense to go running for cover and hide out with their families.

But, Daryl also seemed likely to find solace in isolation at the end of the world ⎯⎯ but he wasn't that much of a whack job as far as she could tell. He did make sure she was safe when dozens of walkers came out of thin air ⎯⎯ then again, T wasn't in much of a state to do the protecting for him, so maybe he just did it to avoid a guilty conscience.

Who was Clementine to judge? She only did it every waking second.

Daryl was the first to initiate stepping closer to the makeshift camp, crossbow squared in front of him, eyes staring straight down the crosshair. His fingertip grazed the trigger, ready to send one of his arrows into whatever came at him.

"You're going inside?" Clem uttered, finding Daryl had become way more of a whack job in just a couple of seconds. Who in their right mind would go in there? It looked like any scene in a horror movie when a jumpscare was about to happen, and Clementine was not keen on pissing her pants when she'd only recently gotten a proper shower.

Possibilities were endless on what could be camping inside ⎯⎯ or what could've been. If anything it was probably long dead by then, and Daryl was getting steps away from meeting his maker if what was in there was still kicking.

"Guys. . ." Clementine started, begging to get someone to listen to her.

"Sh." Shane snapped, shushing her aggressively as he followed Rick and Daryl.

They waved Carol forward, coaching her directions on what to do. Carl attempted to step forward but those movements ceased when the girl next to him grabbed onto his jacket sleeve with a death grip. "Come on, are we looking at the same thing?" She whispered aggressively, eyes bulging with shock. Nobody else gathered the same uneasy feeling she felt deep in her gut.

"We're all here, baby. It's mommy." Carol called out for Sophia, willing her little girl to emerge from the dilapidated tent.

Not a peep came back in response ⎯⎯ if there was anyone inside willing and able to make their presence known, they chose not to follow through with that. Any soul left inside was an oppressed cloud of smoke bouncing against the temp mesh, waiting to be released from the confines.

The choice to venture inside was made and Daryl made the move ⎯⎯ Rick followed, feet planted outside half-zipped open tent door, and staunched that very intention. He pressed the back of his hand to his lips as he suppressed the bubbling desire to gag and throw up ⎯⎯ forcing himself to only cough.

For safe measure, Clementine took another step back. Whatever existed inside the tent had spoiled past its expiration date and the stench that arose had been freed. It didn't matter what exactly caused the ungodly fetor ⎯⎯ Clementine knew that if the smell had provoked such a sickly response from Rick and Shane, she wouldn't want to find out for herself.

"It ain't her," Daryl announced, stepping out of the tent with a tight grimace etched on his face.

The confirmation forced Carol's shoulders to slump ⎯⎯ it wasn't the news she wanted to hear.

"What's in there?" Andrea curiously stepped forward.

"Some guy." The bowman declared, picking his crossbow back up and hooking the strap over his head. He didn't react, but the disgust was on his face as he let out a breath of air. He must have been holding his breath for dear life.

Curiosity hit Clem, not enough to push her feet forward but she leaned, peaking around the taller people. "Dead or dead-dead?"

A soft breathy chuckle flew from Daryl in response to the girl's phrasing of words. "Dead-dead. Did what Jenner said. Opted out. Ain't that what he called it?"

"Yeah. . . somethin' like that." Clementine hummed under her breath, quickly turning her head away when a whiff of the rotting corpse inside began to reach her even at that distance. She scoffed at the wretched smell, waving her hand in front of her nose in an attempt to waft it away.

Carl openly laughs at her disgust, a childish smile cracking across his lips. "I don't smell anything."

"You're a boy. . . You're used to living in your own filth." She argued, pinching her nostrils tightly closed between her thumb and pointer finger.

A loud harmonic ringing boomed through the leaves and straight to all their ears. Somewhere in the distance, a bell had sounded off. The distance was indecipherable when the sound seemed to bounce off whatever Clementine looked at. She squeezed what she was holding ⎯⎯ Carl's arm ⎯⎯ in a vice-like grip as she looked around panicked. "What is that. . ."

The part of their hearts holding onto hope began a faint rhythm, beating back to life in a few of their chests and pumping blood into their legs, kicking them forward.

Carl had no opportunity to respond to her ⎯⎯ that was if he could even come up with an answer ⎯⎯ before Rick, Daryl, Shane, and Glenn led the charge toward where they thought the sound was coming from.

• ───────────────── •

It was hard for Clementine to not consider the amount of times she was told growing up not to run with scissors. None of them had scissors ⎯⎯ but machetes, hatchets, and knives carried the same danger. The knife she held onto was folded shut, but she could feel a prickling numbness go up and down her arms at the mere thought of tripping and falling straight into her own weapon.

Her shins ached as her feet pounded into the ground at a desperate speed to keep up ⎯⎯ at the very least with Carl, but she lagged back. Not far enough to lose track of them, but a great enough space to make her heart beat a little faster with anxiety.

It'd been a long time since she was left completely alone somewhere, perhaps maybe in the quarry from time to time. But this wasn't the quarry, and she didn't have the safety net of Dale watching over her to fall back on if she happened to get out of the group's reach.

Through the branches and leaves, bodies came to a halt at the sight of a white-paneled church. Clementine couldn't help but sit down right then and there on the grass. "That can't be it. Got no steeple, no bells." Shane reasoned with a frantic-looking Rick.

Rick wasn't up for listening, too driven by the desire to find the girl he was blamed for losing in the first place. He didn't stop running even when Shane pleadingly yelled his name.

Everyone raced for the church, keeping up with the devoted Sheriff through the lines of tombstones, all of them quickly crowding around the front steps, shuffling up towards the door.

The church doors were so close, and that sour taste she got the first time she was in a church returned to her tongue. It wasn't fair to associate the house of god with one bad preacher ⎯⎯ but she couldn't help it.

From where she stood, at the base of the steps, she could see the formidable statue of a man nailed to a cross. The arms outstretched.

Simply walking into the church wasn't something Clem could decide if she truly wanted to do, and the fact that there were three flesh-eating monsters standing to attention at the sound and smell of living beings stepping foot in their building ⎯⎯ deterred her even further not to do so.

Instead of standing there gawking at the men willing to venture inside and put the walkers out of their misery, Clem walked over to look at the many graves.

Most of the tombstones were in good condition, only the grass had overgrown. There wasn't anyone left to scrub the cement blocks clean of growing algae and moss. Nobody to weed wack the sprouting dandelions out of existence.

Clementine plopped down, folding her legs criss-crossed in front of a grave. It was a fresh tombstone, the cemented stone about as clean as it could get with a little over two months of no maintenance.

The bell chimed again, much louder this time being in closer proximity. Clem covered her ears, watching as they discovered it was only a pathetic speaker emitting the timed ring.

"A timer . . . It's on a timer." Daryl huffed exasperatedly, looking desperate for air.

Clementine's legs still throbbed with a fading pain from running for so long, so it didn't surprise her to see everyone else panting like dehydrated dogs.

"I'm gonna go back in for a bit," Informed the mother of the lost girl, her voice heightening in pitch from the internal dread she'd been trying to hold within.

Just when a prickle of faith formed inside of them, it was stripped away. It was a sick joke. Clementine was fairly certain someone was looking down on them laughing, an evil, hearty, belly laugh, and pointing in satisfaction at their increasing disappointment.

She reached out, wrapping her fingers around the stem of a dandelion and tugging hard, snapping it somewhere beneath the blades of grass. From a distance, Shane and Lori chatted, but Clementine couldn't bring herself to listen. She didn't care what they talked about. Not a word felt worth hearing when in her heart she felt all of them were doomed no matter what anyone had to say.

They could pray, ask God for his beloved mercy ⎯⎯ or even just a light to guide their way through the merciless time.

But she couldn't. Clementine wouldn't.

Foreshadowing for all her friends sealed fates stood around her in the form of mass graves. One day she and everyone else would end up somewhere just like that. Six feet under with a cement brick on top and their name carved in it. The date wouldn't be precise. Who knew what day it was anymore? But, it would be known that they died during the worldwide extinction event, as Dr. Edwin Jenner called it.

A tune when nobody was meant to survive. All that would be left ⎯⎯ bones, dust, and the walking carcasses that ended it all.

Her hand tightened around another stem, yanking harder this time, the tiny snap of green fibers knocking her back into reality.

"I'm coming with you." Andrea and Shane came speedwalking by, not seeing the little girl sitting behind a tombstone.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I'm not stupid and I'm certainly not deaf." A grin turned up on Clem's lips at Andrea's ironic statement. Funny, she thought. They must think she's deaf if their hushed talking was loud enough to reach her. "Look, I don't know the story."

Shane shook his head. "There is no story."

"Fine, I don't care. Don't confuse me with someone who does." She grabbed onto Shane's arm and pulled him to a stop ⎯⎯ tired of walking after him. "Look, all I care about is getting out of here as far away as I can, like you."

"We're gonna sail off into the sunset together? We gonna hold hands?"

Clem grimaced at the concept of the two of them sailing off into the sunset. Gross. She wiped her palms off on the knees of her jeans and stood up walking over to Rick who was standing in the midst of graves in deep thought.

"What you doin' out here?" Rick asked, a defeated sigh pushing past his lips.

There weren't enough words to explain why she didn't want to participate in praying ⎯⎯ and she surely didn't want to explain the conversation she overheard of Shane and Andrea planning their escape. Or maybe it was some sort of honeymoon? She couldn't be sure what they were up to.

What they did with themselves wasn't something she wanted to hear much about. Neither had ever treated her with any kindness or compassion ⎯⎯ not that she had vice versa, but good riddance. The nicest thing Shane had ever done for Clem was try and show her how to clean a gun, but he didn't have the chance to follow through.

She shrugged, pursing her lips as Rick tucked a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. "That's okay, as long as you stay close by. Where we can keep you safe."

"I just didn't wanna go in there . . ."

Rick nodded, his understanding of the situation being different than how she felt. "I know, but the walkers in there are gone now."

It wasn't the walkers. She wished it was something as present as the walkers ⎯⎯ instead it was just the ghost of her religious family looming over her. "Yeah . . . The walkers."

"Got to move here, man." Shane charged over sweat gleaming on his forehead, his voice thick with the same attitude he always carried. "These people are spent. There's only so many hours of daylight left . . . We still got a long way back."

Clementine stood over a whole foot shorter than Rick ⎯⎯ but her height difference did nothing to weigh on her as she firmly placed her hands on her hips, squaring up Shane as if he couldn't throw her over his shoulder. "We didn't find anything yet."

Yet, was the keyword. The keyword she didn't quite believe was accurate ⎯⎯ but nonetheless the key to her point.

"You think he's blind?" She asked, glaring hard at him. He always had something to say when people were just trying their hardest and she was nothing less than absolutely sick of his shit. Rick placed his hand on her shoulder, starting to say her name, but she brushed it off. "I'm pretty sure everyone can see the sun going down, so⎯⎯"

Shane squeezed the barrel of his shotgun, his stance wide as he let out an exasperated laugh. "Listen little lady⎯⎯"

"Clementine." She corrected firmly, spinning on her heels and immediately leaving the conversation to stand with the rest of the group.

Under the shade of the tree, they gathered around taking the moment as much needed break. Shane was right about one thing, they're spent. It was written on their faces and showing in the forming sweat on their brows.

"Little lady ⎯⎯ pft." She scoffed, the toes of her sneakers kicking up dirt as she took place right next to Lori and Carl. "Ain't your little lady."

"What sweetheart?" Lori asked, unable to make out the girl's mutterings of anger. "You okay?"

Clementine sighed feeling the gentle touch of Lori's hand graze her back. Comfort. Lori always knew exactly what to do to make all that bubbling rage get smothered into dust left on her bones. "Yeah."

"Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back, okay? Daryl, you're in charge."

A snort pressed to escape out Clem's nose. Daryl of all people being in charge of the wellbeing of others sounded humorous ⎯⎯ but Shane appointing that position upon him was what really befuddled her.

"Me and Rick, we're just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough."

"You're splitting us up. You sure?"

"Yeah, we'll catch up to you."

"I want to stay too," Carl announced, no longer interested in being involved, but only finding his friend. "I'm her friend."

Rick, Shane, and Lori shared thoughtful looks. Considering Carl's desires. Clem knew before they said so that he would be allowed just by the way each of them looked to the other for an opinion.

"Just be careful, okay?" Lori said grabbing her son's full attention, speaking only to him as he looked up at her ⎯⎯ insuring his mother he would do exactly that. "When did you start growing up. . ."

"I want to go," Clem said softly, turning her attention to the two cops standing side by side, mainly Rick. She was younger than Carl, but they'd told them to stay by each other's side. And with that, there was a newfound eagerness to stay there ⎯⎯ no matter what. She wanted to be someone he could count on. To protect him.

Shane shook his head in a physical denial. "No." He said softly. "We're looking for one child, we don't need two to watch over at the same time." The tone within his words felt fake, like a facade put on for those subject to witnessing it.

A hand grasped onto hers and she turned to find Carl confidently standing next to her. "We'll stay together."

Lori crouched down in front of them, kissing Carl's head for extra measure. "You listen to them the whole time." It was instructions ⎯⎯ step by step, and Clem was fairly certain Lori would find a way to ground her ass even in the midst of an apocalypse if she did not follow through with those instructions.

Just when they were beginning to split their separate ways, Clem looked back at Lori. She was already looking their way. "Wait!" Clem shouted, running up to the woman and wrapping her arms tightly around her hips. "I'm tough." She declared, smiling up at Lori. "I can protect him."

"You be careful too." She grinned, grazing her thumb across Clementine's brow.

Rick watched, waving Clementine over once she looked back at him. "C'mon, Clem."

• ───────────────── •

It was without any exceptions that they had to be sandwiched between the two grown men ⎯⎯ walking with little incentive other than finding Sophia. With the overgrown state of the woods, it was hard to see any further than twenty feet ahead of them.

Boredom was present, insufferably stuck in the air between them. Nobody talked for the first ten or so minutes. That was until Clementine had enough of it. "So. . ." Carl turned, head tilted curiously. "What's your favorite color?"

He blew air from his lips, making an audible noise for his thinking process. "I like . . . blue. Yeah, blue for sure." Carl nodded, satisfied with his conclusion. "What about you? You like red, right? Cause your jacket?"

A subtle wince played in the space between her eyebrows and nose. The skin there scrunched up as she processed the question. The innocent question. She lifted her hands, facing her palms to the sky as she looked at the fabric of her sleeves. It was red, but the dirty splotches of blood stains were still there. Faint, but there, and Clementine could no longer remember whose blood it was that she wore on her back.

"I got it as a birthday present. . ." The sadness evoked in her voice snuffed the conversation and all three of her companions glanced at her as she stayed fixated on her jacket sleeves. "I like green."

A twig snapped. Thankfully bringing the much-needed silence back. Boredom had her wanting to talk, but she'd been forced into a memory of her family ⎯⎯ something she'd been trying not to think about.

Shane placed his hand on Carl's chest, nudging the boy to lag behind the two adults, and Clementine followed suit.

But, just around the corner of thick brush, was an elegant deer plain as day. Carl abandoned his position stood behind Shane and inched his way forward, a gleeful smile on his face.

Clementine couldn't believe it. She'd never seen a deer so close ⎯⎯ an entire field away was the only time she'd ever seen them, but this one was right there. Both children gazed longingly, each wanting nothing more than to scoop up the full-grown animal and take it back to the highway as a pet.

It was the fact that Carl only got closer that really shocked the girl. She couldn't grasp it, breathing in deep, eyes wide and her mouth open in awe. The picturesque view was something she wouldn't turn her eyes away from. If she did, she feared it would be gone when she looked back.

Another snap, this time from a twig beneath Carl's shoe. The sound goes off like an alarm for the deer. Its head lifted instantly, looking directly at Carl who had to be somewhere near ten feet away.

The soft ears twitched at the sound, and Carl neared, wishing to touch the soft fur with every bone in his body ⎯⎯ but Clem was happy to stand still and watch. If she only got to witness Carl petting a real deer, that was enough for her.

They were certain the deer would run away eventually ⎯⎯ with the exception of Carl who seemed confident that if he moved slowly enough the deer would let him reach out and touch it.

Carl glanced back, eyes dancing from Rick to Shane and then Clem with shocked eyes, quickly facing the deer again eagerly. The deer was frozen in place on high alert and yet stayed despite the boy being right there. Both were equally confused by the other being.

Clementine looked back at Rick to see the man's reaction to what was happening before them. She smiled ear to ear seeing how he looked at his son with such love and adorment. A time that would never be forgotten for as long as they lived. Pure innocence in the form of a moment to remember.

Then a bang rang through the woods ⎯⎯ a whistling sound of danger, fear, and pain. The object of pain struck right into the gut of Carl Grimes and the impact forced his body to contort in different directions. His stomach sank backward but his arms flew forward.

The sight alone provoked Clementine's stomach to react the same, caving inward as her shoulder hunched forward ⎯⎯ feeling as if she had been the one to get hit. A pain reverberated through her but only Carl and the deer were the ones to fall limp against the grass. The look of awe on her face replaced with an unblinking, stunned expression

His cheeks were flushed from the heat and as he hit the ground the collision forced his arms to splay next to him ⎯⎯ a hauntingly familiar position to the statue everyone was praying to mere minutes ago.

︿

〈〈 𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒 𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 〉〉

﹀

Okay, hey hey.

This chapter I cut out a bunch of scenes where the group is waiting for Rick to come back, or other stuff because most of that time I imagined Clem just worrying about T-Dog. Despite it not being mentioned in the second half of the chapter, she is still very much concerned with his well-being. But, Carl being shot will obviously take her focus.

Side note 1: I hate Shane. If you're a Shane supporter, this is probably not the story for you. Clem will criticize and nitpick his actions till his dying breath, I promise you that.

Side note 2: AND yes I know the little things Shane says to Carl like telling him to be quiet are not that big of a deal in hindsight, but Clementine is a literal child that ADORES Carl and will not take anything negative said to him lightly.

Anyways, lmk how you liked it.

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