Carl From The Walking Dead Age Novels & Stories

“It was already done.” The silence that followed was heavy, with its own shape and presence. I sat with him in it and didn’t try to fill it. “He found me in the back room,” Carl continued after a moment. His voice had become a little rougher, not much, just enough to show how hard he was trying to keep it steady. “I thought he was going to kill me too. I was eleven and I was sure that was the end of it.” He almost smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But he just looked at me for a long time and then he said – he said killing me would be too easy. That letting me live with it was the better punishment.” He paused. “Those were his exact words. The better punishment. As if I had done somethin

“Now, pup…” Carl usually was patient and he never used his full height. He knew he could be intimidating and so he would do his best to come off small. Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Carl towered over all of us. Nearing seven foot and built like a football player, he was one of the more seasoned warriors until he got attacked while defending the pack. The doctors said he wasn’t fit for patrol and so my father wrote him off of everything. But he was still completely able to fight the best of them. Justin wasn’t fooled, but Carl’s anger wasn’t directed at him. It was directed at Greg who actually cowered away. Sighing, I handed the wrench over to him and patted him on the a

“Carl’s father. Alive. And the architect of Velgrave’s elite disruption units. He was the first human to survive forced power suppression exposure.” Carl didn’t flinch. But his silence spoke volumes. “He's not just alive,” Tobias said. “He's leading what remains of Velgrave’s military. Underground. Training loyalists.” Ophelia turned slowly. “You knew?” Carl’s jaw clenched. “I suspected.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because he doesn’t just want control,” Carl said. “He wants me.” The room fell silent. For the first time, Carl looked afraid. They found him in a scorched military outpost beneath the old Velgrave detention grid.

Otherwise, she didn't know how she would explain the situation to Carol. Feeling doubtful, Carol took the marriage license and studied it carefully. "Mercer Garland?" Carol read the name out. "That's right," Calla hurriedly said with a nod. "How old is he?" Carol asked. Calla was stumped. She didn't know his age. Nevertheless, she took a quick glance at the date of birth listed on the marriage license. He was born four years earlier than she was, so she hurriedly replied, "He's 29." "Does he have siblings? What do his parents do? What does he work as? What's his personality like?" Carol questioned in a rapid-fire manner.

I poked it and she blushed. “Well, she is an adult now. 21. I believe she was 8 when they heard that he was killed,” Carla suddenly sounded happy. “She was happy when she heard the news. So, we know the stories of his deeds are true,” Carla smiled at me. “We should all thank you for what you have done. I think my friend will be surprised to learn that you were the little kid that paid him back for everything he has done,” Carla looked ahead of us again. She looked proud. Never had this kind of response before.

“He is trying to give us a detailed explanation of what went on while him and his team were out protecting the likes of you. I bet you have never held a sword in your life, Elder Carlos. Have you even changed into your werewolf form before. Tell me. Have you?” “Eh..” Elder Carlos stammered. “I have my king. I transformed first when I was twenty two.” “When you were twenty two,” Xavier scoffed. “I’m only fourteen and I possess my wolf and my father’s wolf. You should be ashamed of yourself. And how did you become an Elder?” “It…it….it…was your father who appointed me, my king,” Elder Carlos stammered.

I spent my Winters learning how to tend to wounds from my mother and now I took pride in showing off my skills whenever the men came back from the wars. As I approached the lake where the young pack members always stood around swimming and having fun, I heard Carl's deep voice as he talked and laughed with his friends. Carl was one of the young werewolves who protects the pack's territory whenever the older men went for war. He was tall and well built around his chest and arms, his curly brown hair doing justice to his green eyes. I'd have found him incredibly beautiful if he wasn't such an asshole all the damn time. I'd probably run off from this pack if I woke up one day and found out that

“She is too young for you and has only just started at my company. She will not want to switch so quickly.” Carl laughs and slaps my back. I cut my eyes to him, feeling agitated at his overly friendly gesture. He and I may have known each other for years, but for some reason, I can’t stand the sight of him at the moment. “Nolan, you’re saying I’m too old, but I’m forty-five, which is only three years older than you,” he shoots back. The rising anger grows to a mountainous size, and I grit my teeth and dig my claws into my palms to keep from punching him.

she giggled. “The kid? I was thinking earlier that we really can’t call him that. He’s not far from our age.” Mandy shrugged and took another sip of her drink. The only thing that would make the night better would be the promise of getting to spend time with Carl later, but that wasn’t going to happen. “He’s twenty-three, I think. He’s a total kid. I’ll be thirty-eight this year. I’m getting old.” Gina winked, teasing Mandy.

Alden took a drag from his cigarette and asked skeptically, "Since when did you go from handling firearms to crafting charms?" "I've been making werewolf protection charms since I was a pup. Repairing one for my daughter isn't that hard." Alden smirked. "Carly's 18 years old now. Does she really still need that dainty pink protection charm? It's meant for pups." "No matter how old she gets, she'll always be my little pup." Dad stood and straightened his sleeves. "She lost her home when she was young, and then her mom, whom she loved most. As her dad, I've already failed her enough."