quicklog: father and son in TWD
[Graham hadn't been real sure if he was seeing Jake's name in the journal for real, at first. For every lapse of sanity there was always some lucidity that stuck around. But no, it was his son, his son who didn't call him Dad and hadn't in years, the boy who hadn't been so angry once upon a time. Wished he could go back, like he always did. Except he couldn't, Jake wasn't seven anymore, he was grown and even Lore told him as much; it was hard for her, too, always was for mothers. Their babies would always be their babies. What mattered right now, she said, was finding their boy, and he agreed. He pushed aside thoughts of the baby girl out there, and Clem, who was out there too. Didn't matter a lick what Shane said; he'd only made things worse with her, and best that he keep his distance from here on out. He could see his daughter without making a mess of things again, he was real sure he could.
But that was later. This was now. Graham retraced his steps from the farmhouse to the road best he could, and he read over Jake's list to work out just where he was. He was on foot, no car, and it was just damn luck that he found one on the highway that wasn't all broken up or out of gas. Thing wouldn't take him far, but he didn't need it to. Just to his son. Lore fretted in the front seat as he drove, and when he passed a gas station he hoped real hard it was the right one.
Further he got, more dead folk there were. He went as fast as he could and up ahead, there, he was real sure he saw a truck.]