Chapter 32 Carl Faces the Walkers Alone for the First Time!

“But…” Carl’s mind raced as he searched desperately for a way out of the assignment.

Then his eyes brightened, and he looked up at Magnus Vane with the most innocent expression he could manage.

“Magnus, didn’t Sophia and the others start with firearms training?” Magnus saw through him immediately.

“Their training is different from yours.” Carl stared at him.

That answer sounded suspiciously convenient.

Magnus clapped his hands once before Carl could continue arguing.

“Don’t waste your time looking for loopholes.

Your parents put you under my supervision, so for training purposes, I decide what you’re doing.” He leaned slightly closer.

“If you refuse today, we’ll do it tomorrow.

If you refuse tomorrow, we’ll do it the next day.

And if you somehow avoid it until we reach the prison, then we’ll do it there.” Carl’s expression grew steadily worse.

“You can’t avoid this forever.” Magnus paused.

Maybe terrifying an eleven-year-old wasn’t the best motivational strategy.

His tone softened.

“Think about your mom.

You want to be able to protect her someday, don’t you?” Carl’s eyes shifted slightly, and Magnus continued.

“And your dad trusted me enough to put you in this truck.

Don’t you want to go back after this week and show him that he made the right decision?” Carl lowered his head.

“You’re Rick Grimes’s son,” Magnus said.

“You’ve got more potential than you realize.

But potential doesn’t matter unless you do something with it.” He tapped the wooden armor covering Carl’s shoulder.

“Trust me.

What I’m teaching you is going to help you grow faster than sitting at the farm shooting cans.” Carl’s breathing grew a little heavier.

Magnus noticed.

Then he used the final push.

“You were pretty confident back at camp,” he said casually.

“What happened?

Getting scared already?” Carl’s head snapped up.

“I’m not scared.” “Sure.” “I’m not!” Magnus raised an eyebrow.

Carl took a deep breath and straightened in his seat.

“Fine.

I’ll do it.” Magnus smiled.

There it was.

“Good.

Then your first real lesson starts now.” He pointed toward the passenger window.

A walker had wandered close to the fire engine and was beginning to slap its rotting hands against the tall door.

Because of the truck’s height, its head barely reached the lower part of the window.

Each impact produced a dull thump inside the cab.

Carl stared at it.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

He swallowed.

Then he remembered Rick’s instructions.

Listen.

Think.

Act.

Carl gritted his teeth, unlocked the passenger door, and kicked it outward with both hands braced against the seat.

Thud!

The heavy door slammed directly into the walker.

It staggered backward several steps, lost its balance, and crashed onto the pavement.

Carl immediately used the opening, climbed down from the cab, and hit the ground running.

Before the walker could recover, he was already sprinting east down the street.

Magnus watched him go.

The fallen walker began pushing itself upright.

A boot came down on the back of its skull.

Crunch.

The head collapsed against the pavement.

[Experience +300] Magnus lifted his foot, casually rested the Stone Sledgehammer against his shoulder, and shut the fire engine door behind him.

Several walkers farther down the street had already begun turning toward the noise.

He ignored them and started following Carl.

Magnus had promised Rick that Carl would be safe.

He meant it.

Carl simply didn’t need to know that Magnus was following him.

The entire point was to make the boy believe he was alone.

Magnus kept enough distance that Carl wouldn’t hear his footsteps, using abandoned vehicles, storefronts, and corners for cover whenever necessary.

He had already cleared a large number of walkers from this town during his earlier scavenging runs, and Carl’s Wooden Armor Set gave him another layer of protection against accidental scratches or teeth.

As long as Magnus stayed close enough to intervene, the risk remained manageable.

“Should be fine,” Magnus murmured.

Not long after, he spotted Carl farther ahead.

The boy had already lost most of the excitement he started with.

He was breathing hard and moving much more carefully.

Instead of running blindly, Carl now checked parked cars before passing them.

His eyes moved toward open windows, doorways, alleys, and the shadows beneath vehicles.

Every few steps he stopped and listened before continuing.

Magnus hid behind an abandoned sedan and watched.

Carl was learning.

Walkers standing in the middle of the street were frightening, but at least you could see them.

The truly dangerous ones were the dead you couldn’t see—the ones collapsed behind counters, trapped beneath cars, hidden inside dark rooms, or lying motionless until somebody stepped too close.

Sophia had nearly died because of exactly that kind of walker in the woods.

Carl seemed to be figuring it out on his own.

Good.

Magnus had originally ordered him to cross the entire town and return, but he wasn’t obsessed with whether the boy actually completed every mile.

The small town stretched roughly three kilometers from one end to the other, meaning the round trip would be close to six kilometers.

For someone Carl’s age wearing wooden armor and constantly changing direction to avoid walkers, that could easily take most of the day.

The destination was a goal.

The real test was survival.

If Carl spent the entire day moving through a dangerous section of town without getting caught, Magnus would count that as progress even if he never reached the far edge.

If the boy decided halfway through that the route was impossible and found a safer solution instead, Magnus wouldn’t punish him for it either.

Adaptability mattered more than blindly following an order until it killed you.

Even lying about reaching the finish line wouldn’t automatically disappoint Magnus.

If Carl could deceive him convincingly while still proving he understood the danger, Magnus might actually respect the attempt.

Rick and Shane would probably disagree with that part.

Magnus wasn’t trying to raise Carl into the most obedient child in Georgia.

He was trying to help him become someone who could survive.

For nearly another half mile, Magnus followed from a distance.

By noon, the heat had become oppressive.

The sun beat down on the cracked asphalt, and the smell of decay hung over the abandoned town.

Low walker growls drifted between empty buildings while Carl moved from one patch of shade to another, sweat running down his face beneath the wooden protection.

Eventually, Carl stopped beneath a roadside tree.

He bent forward with his hands on his knees and wiped sweat from his forehead.

“No,” he muttered to himself.

“Mom and Dad are training too.

I can’t just go back.” Magnus heard enough from his hiding place behind an abandoned pickup to understand.

A faint smile appeared.

Carl kicked a loose stone in frustration.

The rock skipped across the pavement and dropped through the narrow opening of a roadside storm drain.

Carl looked toward it.

He waited.

Nothing.

No sound came from below.

His expression changed.

Curiosity took over.

Carl stepped closer.

Magnus’s smile disappeared.

The storm drain opening was almost completely dark, and from Carl’s angle it looked empty.

He bent slightly at the waist, trying to see farther inside.

His face moved closer and closer to the opening.

Magnus tightened his grip on the Stone Sledgehammer.

“Don’t.” Carl suddenly froze.

Something in his expression changed.

He had remembered the lesson.

Never trust darkness just because nothing was moving.

Carl began backing away.

Too late.

A pale, decomposing arm shot through the storm drain opening and grabbed the lower section of his wooden leg armor.

Carl screamed.

The walker inside yanked violently.

His foot slid across the pavement, and the sudden pull almost dropped him face-first beside the drain.

Carl kicked frantically, trying to tear himself loose, but the rotting hand remained locked around the armor covering his calf.

“No!

Let go!” Magnus stepped out from behind the truck.

The Stone Sledgehammer was already in both hands.

One more second.

If Carl lost control, Magnus would end it.

But Carl reacted first.

He slammed his free foot against the raised edge of the storm drain and braced himself.

His entire body tensed as he stopped himself from being dragged any closer.

Then he twisted his trapped leg and repeatedly stomped downward against the walker’s wrist and fingers using the uneven edge of the pavement for leverage.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Rotten flesh tore.

Bones cracked.

Carl kept stomping.

The walker’s fingers finally lost their grip.

Carl flew backward.

He hit the pavement hard.

The Wooden Armor Set absorbed most of the impact, but one section around his elbow scraped against the rough asphalt.

Carl hissed in pain and immediately grabbed his arm.

Blood appeared along the abrasion.

A thin red line ran down his forearm.

Magnus stopped several yards away.

His grip remained tight around the Stone Sledgehammer.

But he didn’t move forward yet.

Carl had escaped on his own.