Who: Carol Peletier and Open! What: Killing zombies and looking for plants. Where: Outside the prison. When: Saturday morning. Status: Open to anyone/Ongoing. If no one tags in, it works as a narrative. Rating: Medium-high. Talk of domestic violence, death, some violence, maybe some language.
Maybe she was selfish, or maybe she was trying to tempt fate, but Carol hadn't touched a gun since the night she'd accidentally shot (and killed) Allison Argent. Not even now, as she made her way out of the prison alone with only her knife for defense. There was so much chaos going on at the prison all the time that it felt like there wasn't time to breathe between one terrible thing happening and the next anymore. It was overwhelming.
She had no real belief that there was anything she could do to help with this sickness that had infected so many. She wasn't a doctor or a nurse. The only medical training she had was that which she'd acquired by teaching herself how to heal her own wounds after Ed had beaten the hell out of her, and what Hershel had taught her in the few months she'd been at his farm. But he had taught her some useful things about herbal remedies and making teas and while it wouldn't do anything for this virus, maybe it would help with some of the more common illnesses. Colds, flu, regular sicknesses that so far they'd rarely had to deal with. Living in such close quarters with so many almost guaranteed that at some point there would be an outbreak of something aside from this Rage virus.
Carol knew full well how dangerous it was to be outside of the safety zone by herself without even telling anyone where she was going. But it wasn't like anyone would be looking for her. Daryl, maybe. But he was probably still busy with other things. She didn't blame him for staying away. She probably would have, too. And she had been. She'd been keeping herself away from as many of the others as she could. Sure, she still worked her kitchen shifts and occasionally took on a cleaning shift, but for the most part, she kept to herself unless someone talked to her first.
Everyone around her died. Ed, though she didn't miss or mourn him. Sophia. Her chest tightened at the thought of her little girl, whose life had been hard from the get go. She prayed every day that her daughter had found peace and that she wasn't trapped on the now infamous Other Side. She wasn't sure she'd ever know one way or the other. Then there were others -- Dale, who'd been an endless source of compassion before he'd been bitten; Shane -- though she'd always been wary of him and in the end he'd tried to kill Rick.
And Allison, by Carol's own hands. She shut her eyes momentarily at the guilt that washed over her in a familiar wave. The young woman had said it was okay, that she was glad she'd died and come back, but Carol didn't understand what she meant and didn't buy it for a second. She was fairly sure the rest of them from Beacon Hills hated her now. She saw the looks that Scott McCall and Chris Argent gave her anytime they were nearby. She didn't blame them. She was fairly certain she'd feel the same way toward anyone who'd harmed someone she loved.
But her guilt drove her now in a different way than it had been. It drove her out of the prison in hope that she could do something useful that might ease some of the tension and wariness that people now regarded her with. That it might somehow help her find some kind of redemption.
Carol watched as one of the walkers approached her, staggering forward with a groan, one arm missing and half its jaw gone. Poor bastard, she thought, drawing her knife. She drove it into the creature's skull, ending its miserable existence and then grimacing as she pulled her knife away, watching the lifeless body fall to the ground. Taking a deep breath, she headed on, toward the woods. She hadn't really stopped to examine the local plant life when she'd made her way to Everett months ago, but now it was time to do just that.