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Chapter four: American Boy

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Carl slumped on the sofa with ‘Hermes, the Stuffed Emotional Support Hermit Crab’, plopped in his lap, staring at the TV.

I’m watching The Simpsons. It’s been years since I last watched The Simpsons. Look, Homer still strangles Bart. Who’d’ve guessed.

Of course, his brain was just throwing up random thoughts to distract him from more pressing issues like, oh, the fact that he was now apparently a ghost and could be seen by a total of one (1) person.

After Sophie’s grandmother had failed to notice Carl was sitting in her kitchen, Sophie had babbled in a very high-pitched tone something about going to get ready, before dragging Carl out of the room and up the endless flights of stairs. They’d stumbled into what appeared to be a living room. She’d pushed him down onto the couch and fiddled with the remote, putting the TV on.

“You stay here,” she told him before he could say anything. “I… need to think. I’ll be about 15 minutes. Just watch some TV.”

“Sophie, I kinda think we should talk about-”

“If you need to talk,” she continued loudly, grabbing a stuffed thing from an armchair, “here’s Hermes. Cuddle him if you need to. Tell him anything.”

Then she’d run upstairs, expression firmly placed on mild hysteria.

Carl stayed downstairs. With the TV.

He stared down at his arms now, squinting hard. Seemed solid to him. And a pinch test (ow) told him he could still feel pain and sensation and shit.

He could sit on the chair just fine without falling through it. And Sophie had touched him, hadn’t she? She’d been pulling him around since he woke up. She was kinda grabby.

Maybe I am dead, he thought to himself. Maybe this is Hell. Maybe I am a ghost.

Well, there was one way to find out. Carl looked towards the wall.

Why not see if he could walk through it?

Carl got up and stood in front of the wall behind the chair. It looked solid - but then so did he and Sophie’s grandma had completely nuked that theory.

Just a little step forward for answers.

“I’ve gone completely insane, haven’t I?” he asked Hermes, turning backwards to stare at the plush.

I think you crossed that line a while ago dude, he imagined the crab saying back to him. And anyway, you’re talkin’ to me, a stuffed animal, right now. That’s fine, little kids do that, it’s okay to be a little kid again - but not even little kids imagine the plushie talkin’ back.

Carl shook his head. He turned back to face the wall again. The wallpaper was cream coloured, so clean, with little bumpy bits for decoration.

Now or never.

He pulled his hat down a bit more firmly on his head, set his brow and marched forward.

Bump.

“Ow.”

He’d crashed straight into the wall, been unprepared for the impact and fallen backwards, arms pinwheeling, and landed on his back like a dumbass. He was now staring at the ceiling. His hat had rolled off somewhere in the corner of the room.

“Crap.”

Of course that was gonna happen, dumbass.

Least nobody saw-

“What happened?”

Carl closed his eye. CRAP.

He looked upwards. Sophie was staring down at him with mild concern, clearly wondering why he’d decided to go marching into the - very solid - wall like a glitchy video game character.

She’d gotten changed out of her pyjamas into a floaty blue dress with daisies patterned on it. On top she’d put on a dark green jacket with deep pockets. Her hair was held back by a sparkly red hairband. Her feet were encased in opened-toed green sandals with more daisies on each foot. Her toenails were painted; red, with sparkles. It matched the hairband.

They were pretty clothes. Impractical clothes. Clothes that no-one where he came from would dream of wearing ever again, for their inability to allow them to run and jump and shoot things. It was an outfit of somebody who’d never had to run for their life before.

Carl felt a sudden deep pang of envy and sadness at Sophie’s ability to wear an outfit like that for no reason. Just ‘cause she liked it.

She was still looking down at him, face getting considerably more worried and confused by the second.

What was the question? Oh, right.

“Uh. Well, I guess I’m… invisible, to everyone except you, apparently. And I’d just died a couple hours ago and I wondered,” he took a breath, licking his lips at the absurdity of the situation, “if I was a ghost and could walk through walls.”

Surprisingly, Sophie didn’t laugh. She nodded thoughtfully and sat down on the floor next to him.

“That’s a fair thing to wonder about. We don’t know anything about anything that’s going on here. We shouldn’t rule out any possibilities!

I’m sorry for leaving you alone down here, by the way.” She started playing with her fingers.

Carl pushed himself up from the floor. “It’s fin-”

“No it’s not. You’re in - what I assume - is a new dimension and you’re apparently invisible, like you said, and I just left you down here with the TV.” She glanced up at him nervously. “It was a horrible thing to do. And I’m sorry.”

Carl, not knowing what to say, reached around for Hermes and put him in Sophie’s lap. He gave her an awkward pat on the arm.

Christ, I’m no good at this. Change the subject.

He pointed to the bag next to her.

“You going out?”

Sophie grabbed her bag. “Oh yeah! I meant to say. My friend Ben’s on holiday, and I’m watching his house. I feed the cat and make sure the doors are locked and stuff. We could go out there now, maybe? Get some snacks? Have a walk?”

Carl thought about it. His stomach rumbled, even after stuffing himself at breakfast.

“You had me at snacks.”

Sophie clapped her hands, smile returning to her face. “Yay! Ahh, you’re gonna see London! Do you need a jacket - oh, well I guess you wouldn’t have one- wait! That reminds me!”

She rummaged around in her bag, expression tenser than before.

“I was getting dressed and I almost stepped on… this.”

She pulled Carl’s gun out of her bag, holding it away from her anxiously with two fingers.

“I was looking for that. Thanks.”

He took it off her, opening the barrel to see how many bullets he had left. Two. Better be careful with ’em then. He stuck it into the waistband of his pants.

“Is that safe? Sticking it in your trousers like that.”

He gave her a weird look. “I got the safety on. I always have it like this.”

“I know you do. And every time I’ve seen you do it, I think ‘that doesn’t look safe. What if he sits down wrong and shoots his-’”

“Are we going out or not?”

The two of them padded downstairs, past a bedroom, a bathroom, the kitchen until finally they were in the hallway. Sophie fished in her bag for her keys.

“They’re in here somewhere, I can never - oh, here we go.” She fished out a keyring holding a gold key, a silver key, and a fob in the shape of a fluffy chick. She started to put them in the door but paused.

“Ooh, I just have to tell Nan I’m going out. Can you open the door for me?”

She put the keys in his outstretched hand. Carl stared at them. Keys. Barely anyone had keys where he came from. Lock something valuable up and lose your only way of opening it up again and it was goodbye, useful thing. Wasn’t like you could just call the locksmith and get the lock replaced.

He remembered being small and being happy whenever his mom would let him open something with keys. It felt grown-up back then.

He bent down to put the key in the lock.

“NANA!”

Carl almost fell over. He turned backwards to see Sophie at the foot of the stairs.

When she said she had to tell her nan she was going out, he assumed he was going to go and find her in whatever room she was in. Not that she was going to scream at the top of her lungs so her nana could hear her in the giant-ass house they lived in.

“NANA PEG! Sorry, Carl. Her hearing’s not the best. NAN!”

How can something so loud come outta something so small?

Eventually, a reply came.

“YES LOVE?” The old lady’s voice wasn’t as loud as her granddaughter’s, but Carl expected that if he were closer he’d be just as deafened as he was now. He covered his ears.

“I’M GOING OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“I’M GOING OUT!”

“OH. WHERE?”

“BEN’S. I HAVE TO FEED THE CAT!”

“ALL RIGHT LOVE. SEE YOU LATER!”

She turned back to him, apparently unphased by the sudden loudness in her voice. Carl whipped his hands away from his ears.

“Shall we get going then?”

⁋⁋⁋

The pavement outside Sophie’s house was quiet, as usual for her road. There was an enclosed park down to the left, which made manoeuvring a car around more difficult than it should. Most cars didn’t bother heading down it.

But the right led out to the high street, which was busy any day of the week. Cars and buses could already be seen motoring past, as well as a number of early-morning shoppers and office workers. Carl stopped on the bottom doorstep, his mouth falling open slightly, eye widening.

“It’s all there,” he managed, getting over the shock a little bit.

He looked scared. But also hopeful. Didn’t he?

Sophie gently took a hold of his hand and gestured down an even smaller, quieter road.

“I usually go that way. Bit more private. We could go down the main street if you want, it merges back in there eventually anyway-”

He shook his head, though he couldn’t take his eyes off the far off street. “It’s okay. Probably can’t be great for my brain to be exposed to that all at once right?”

Sophie considered, then shook her head. “I think it’s a bit late to be worrying about your brain now. After all, you’ve

shot a hole in it a couple of hours ago

been through a lot already. What more can a little exposure hurt?”

Carl snorted, a grin spreading onto his face. “Your call, Guardian Angel.” He tipped his hat backwards, placing it more firmly on his head. “Lead the way.”

Their progress up the street was slow.

When Carl wasn’t flat-out stopping to stare at something normal working in a normal way, he was trailing behind Sophie at a snail’s pace, neck craned back, head swivelling from left to right. He’d have a crick in it later, if he wasn’t careful.

Sophie didn’t complain or sigh. It never even crossed her mind. She was too busy grinning and explaining things and thinking Carl is seeing all this for the first time again and I’M the one who gets to show it to him! Me!

It wasn’t as if anyone else could, that being said. She wasn’t sure if he noticed, but the people on the street didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. One woman had almost collided right with him, and would have done if he hadn’t moved out of the way - or would she? Was he transparent? A ghost?

Then why could she see him? That was a question she had refused to allow herself to think about when she was getting ready. Nana had looked right through the boy.

Why?

“You said we were in London?”

She nodded, coming out of her thoughts. “Yes. This is Islington.”

“Where’s the queen live?”

She giggled softly. “Umm… technically she doesn’t? She passed away a few years ago. We’ve got a king now. Charles III. Her son. But he lives in a different part of London. Bit more central than here.”

He looked a bit disappointed by the news of Elizabeth’s death, she noted fondly.

“No kidding. Anything cool around here, then?”

Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed a little bit more… comfortable with her now? He was initiating conversation, asking her things. Would it be wishful thinking to call him her friend already?

“Not really cool. We’d have to take the train. Maybe we could do that in a couple days, if you’d like. Ooh, here’s the shop!”

They stopped in front of a blue building with the name TESCO’S on the front in red letters. Carl felt his breath hitch.

A store.

He was about to go into an actual store.

Breakfast was one thing (that was an understatement; Sophie had made enough for his entire family, dead and alive, to have two helpings of) but a real frickin’ store…

His arms curled around himself. That was supposed to be protective body language, wasn’t it? He’d heard that somewhere.

Sophie was looking at him, eyes crinkling with worry again. He smiled awkwardly, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry. It’s just, uh, a lot.”

She smiled again. She had a nice smile. Sunny and gentle, with dimples.

“I know it’s a lot. I’m sorry it is. It shouldn’t have to be. Take as long as you need.”

Carl put his hand on the door handle

solid I’m still solid I’m still here but I’m also not how

and closed his eyes. It was just another run. Only this time there’d be more stuff on the shelves. Nothing to get overwhelmed about.

He pushed the door open. Sophie followed.

The aisles were mostly empty, just a couple of people browsing for breakfasty things. Tired-looking people in suits getting a sandwich for lunch later. One cashier.

But the shelves.

God, the shelves.

Stuffed full of all kinds of crap. Carrots, batteries, plastic toys, candy bars, bread-

Carl didn’t do anything over the top. No crying. No falling to his knees. No kissing the floor. But he felt hopeful. And that was enough.

Sophie headed for an aisle near the back, decorated with dog and cat pictures.

“I’m going to get some treats for Ben’s cat. Snacks are just next door if you want to have a look!”

She walked towards a shelf of cat treats. Mittens didn’t like the cheese ones I got her. Maybe salmon-?

A tap on her shoulder.

“All the candy’s different.”

She turned around. Carl was holding a cadbury and a galaxy bar in either hand and looking thoroughly confused (though that had been his default expression for a while now).

“It is?” Oh. Right. Chocolate was different in America.

Maybe I can get Ben to bring me some Hershey’s when he comes back? But for now…

“Um… well, these are both good,” she decided, taking the bars and putting them in her basket. “Just get whatever you want to try, Carl. I’ll eat whatever you don’t like.”

He frowned, biting his lip. “You sure? Ain’t that gonna be expensive?”

She waved her hand flippantly. “It’s fine. I’ve got my purse.”

Carl nodded hesitantly and headed back to the snacks. Sophie turned her attention back to the pet food. What was I-

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

She stood on her toes, trying to see over the shelf. “You alright?”

Carl came tromping around the corner, holding a bag of crisps. “The British have a terrible sense of humour.”

“What? It’s just a bag of Walkers-” Sophie froze, blood going cold. “Oh no.”

Carl flipped the bag over in his hands. “You people are sick,” he told her, laughing despite trying to look offended. Fortunately, he didn’t seem too annoyed. “These any good?”

“Yes,” Sophie whispered, managing to force words out from where she was dying of embarrassment inside. “They’re good.”

They finished shopping a few minutes later. Carl looked in his basket. He’d collected three candy bars, two bags of the walker-chips and a bag of gummy bears. He’d missed gummy bears.

He and Sophie walked up to the bored-looking cashier, gazing at them impassively from behind the counter.

But was she looking at them?

His shoulders tensed up. Sophie’s grandmother couldn’t see him. People on the street had paid no attention to him. Could anyone else see him?

Time for a test.

As Sophie started passing things over to the till, he spotted a small display of Tic Tacs on the countertop. Small, but visible enough to be noticed. He reached out and picked one up, putting it in his pocket. No reaction from the woman. No glares. No getting chased out of the store for shoplifting. He waved his hand in front of her face. Nothing.

Damn.

Sophie shot him a small sympathetic look.

He was still stuck in his thoughts as they wandered out of the shop. Waves of homesickness were rushing over him. England was cool and all, but it didn’t have his dad. Or Michonne. Or Judith. And he was invisible and maybe dead and the only person who could see him was a girl who, although nice, wasn’t…

Just wasn’t. He didn’t know how to put it.

Sophie took a left down a quieter alleyway, heading towards what looked like a car lot.

“Uh. You sure that’s the right way?” He tilted his head. That would be the last place he would go if it were up to him. There could be looters, or walkers, or

don’t think about the claimed crew

wild animals or-

“This way? Yeah, it’s fine,” Sophie reassured him. “It used to be a car lot, but it’s just turned into a bit of a dumping ground now. The guy who owns it doesn’t care if people use it as a shortcut.”

“A shortcut.”

“Yep! Just don’t disturb anything and we’ll be fine.”

Carl shuffled his feet, trying to hide his doubts. Sophie’s smile faded. “Or, we can go round if you really don’t want to-?”

“No. No, it's fine,” he interrupted. Stop worrying. You’re already seen there’s nothing to be scared of here. Take the damn shortcut.

He took a decisive step forward.

“So, your friend lives in front of a trash heap? That sucks,” he began, trying to sound normal and ignore the bad feeling he was getting.

She smiled again. “Not a trash heap. His parents are trying to get it cleared. At least it’s mostly quiet? No noise there-”

She broke off at the faint stirrings of a sound coming from ahead. She let out a slight, embarrassed laugh.

“At least, there shouldn’t be…?”

Carl had stopped listening. Because the sound he was hearing was becoming more and more familiar as they drew closer. It had started off as a slight vibration, in the air, almost. But now he could make it out properly and it was scarily familiar.

Moaning. Growling.

Carl dropped the bag he was carrying and took off running. Behind him he vaguely heard Sophie stoop to grab the bag before going after him, her breathing quickening. Had she recognised them too? Could the real thing compare to TV?

That was, assuming this was the real thing. Maybe it was a mistake-

He rounded the corner.

It wasn’t a mistake.

Lurching around the abandoned lot, stumbling over small piles of garbage, were five honest-to-god, rotting away walkers.

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