Unbreakable threads

Chapter Twenty-One: Into the Unknown

Daryl gave a quick nod, though he didn't meet Rick's eyes, his own gaze flickering toward the ground, keeping his distance even as he agreed.

Alyssa watched Daryl from the corner of her eye, feeling the wall he was building up, the quiet withdrawal that left her feeling isolated all over again. She wanted to say something, to reach out, but the tension around them was too thick, the uncertainty of their next steps pressing down on them all.

As night fell, they climbed back into their vehicles, pressing onward, their hopes dwindling but not gone. They didn't have a clear destination, but they had each other. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep going—until they found a place to call home, even if only for a short while.

Alyssa stared out the window, her gaze tracing the darkening landscape, her mind heavy with thoughts of the road ahead. The quiet hum of the RV was interrupted only by the soft murmurs of the others around her. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her, a small, insistent gaze that she could feel even without looking.

She turned her head slightly, catching Carl's eyes as he quickly looked away, his cheeks reddening. He'd been staring at her, and she realized he'd probably been working up the courage to say something. After all, they were family now—half-siblings, though that bond still felt strange, almost surreal.

Alyssa gave him a small, encouraging smile, sensing his shyness. "Hey," she said softly, her voice warm but tentative. "What's up?"

Carl shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He looked down, gathering his thoughts, then met her eyes. "I just... I mean... it's kinda weird, right? Us... being family?"

Alyssa chuckled softly, nodding. "Yeah, it's... pretty weird," she admitted. "I didn't know I had a brother until a few weeks ago."

Carl looked down again, his voice quieter. "I didn't know I had a sister. But I'm... I'm kinda glad I do." He glanced up at her, his eyes sincere. "I mean, I know it's been rough, and I know you didn't know my dad before all this, but... I think it's kinda cool. Having someone else, you know?"

Alyssa felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, a small but comforting sense of connection. She hadn't expected this from Carl, this openness, this quiet acceptance that, in its own way, was more meaningful than anything his mother or even Rick had offered her. She nodded, her voice soft. "Yeah... it is kinda cool. I never thought I'd get to say I had a little brother."

Carl smiled, his nervousness melting away as he relaxed beside her. They shared a quiet moment, both of them staring out at the dark road ahead, feeling the strange but comforting bond that came with family—new and uncertain, but real all the same. In a world that had taken so much from them, having even a small piece of family felt like something worth holding onto.

As the RV continued its journey, Alyssa felt the tension she'd been carrying lighten, just a little, knowing that, despite everything, she wasn't truly alone. She had a brother. And that was enough for now.

Lori sat quietly, watching Carl and Alyssa from across the RV. She felt a mixture of emotions, all swirling in a way she couldn't quite untangle. This girl—Alyssa—had been thrown into their lives with no warning, and it had unsettled everything she thought she knew about her family. She still didn't fully understand how Rick had a daughter he'd never known about. It didn't make sense to her that Alyssa's mother would have kept something so monumental hidden all these years.

As she watched Carl and Alyssa talk, though, Lori couldn't deny the truth staring her in the face. The resemblance between them was unmistakable. Both of them had Rick's intense gaze, that familiar stubbornness evident even in the smallest expressions. They were siblings, bonded not only by blood but by the uncanny way they mirrored each other, right down to the way they both shifted awkwardly, testing the waters of this new family dynamic.