TWD - Chapter 589: Eastman (Patreon)

On her first visit, Carol went alone. She carried no gun, only a little salt.

When she reached the wooden cabin, she found the man crouched in his vegetable garden, pulling weeds, just as Maggie had described.

He rose at her approach, leaning on a wooden staff. He made no move to attack, merely looking at her in puzzlement. "Another visitor?"

Carol stopped outside the fence and held up her hands to show she was unarmed. "Hello. I'm Carol. I haven't come looking for a fight."

His eyes settled on the salt she was holding. "Is that for me?"

"It's salt," she said with a nod. "I thought you might be running low."

He pressed his lips together, then came over and opened the gate. Pointing to a stone beside it, he said, "Thank you, ma'am. You can leave it there."

Carol set the salt down gently. He did not pick it up, only glanced at it before asking, "Are you from that base?"

"Rock Fortress," Carol confirmed.

"The last people who came here were from Rock Fortress too."

"They told me about you when they got back."

He looked at her. "And what did they say?"

Carol considered her answer and gave him an innocent smile. "My friends said you're quite a formidable fellow."

For a moment he looked startled, then laughed as though he understood. "More likely they said I was crazy. A man living alone out here these days? I suppose that does sound like a madman."

Carol tipped her head. "Then why do you live by yourself?"

"Too much noise out there," he answered after a moment's thought.

She waited without speaking, letting him continue.

He gestured toward the woods. "Too many people, too many things happening. I can't take it. Here it's quiet. All I hear is the wind, the birds, and the trees growing."

"Aren't you afraid of walkers?" Carol asked. "Have you ever killed one?"

He shook his head, something flickering in his eyes. "I'm not afraid. I stay out of their way, and they seem to stay out of mine."

He hesitated, his expression softening with compassion. "I don't want to kill them. They used to be people."

Carol frowned in surprise. "What if a person tries to kill you?"

"I'll try to change their mind. People can be reasoned with."

A hopeless idealist, Carol decided. She kept the judgment to herself and nodded as though she agreed entirely.

"And if you can't get away?" she pressed.

He had no answer.

Carol stepped closer. "I didn't use to kill people either. Then I killed a lot of them. In a world like this, sometimes you can't avoid it."

As she looked at him, the memory of the first person she had killed rose unbidden.

It had happened while they were living at the prison. The previous winter had brought bitter, extreme cold. They had a roof over their heads, but surviving had still been difficult.

Carol had gone scavenging with Maggie and Glenn when they encountered three raiders. None of the men had a gun. Seeing that two members of the group were women and only Glenn was armed, the raiders were not frightened off. Instead, they rushed him to seize his weapon.

Until then, Glenn had fired his gun only at walkers. He had never killed a person. That brief hesitation was enough for the attackers to knock the gun from his hands.

Two men surrounded him. Maggie charged in to help, and all four became tangled in a desperate struggle. The third raider came toward Carol with a knife, his intentions unmistakable.

She could no longer remember exactly what had gone through her mind. She remembered only the terror, the way she had cried and begged him not to come any closer. He had ignored her pleas. Grinning viciously, he had quickened his steps...

Resolve hardened in Carol's eyes as the memory faded. "I didn't spare the raiders who threatened me and my family. And I don't regret killing them."

The man remained silent for a long time. Finally he said, "You don't regret it because they deserved what happened to them."

"That's right," Carol said.

"But what if, one day, you kill someone who doesn't deserve to die?"

She froze, unable to find an answer.

"I'm not telling you that you shouldn't have killed those men," he continued. "I'm saying that taking a life has a cost, regardless of who you kill."

He touched his chest and met her eyes. "Every time you kill someone, a little mark stays here. How many scars like that have you collected?"

Carol said nothing. Her hands began trembling before she could stop them.

He noticed, but chose not to press her. Instead he asked quietly, "You said your name was Carol?"

She nodded.

He offered a faint smile. "I'm Eastman."

After a pause, he added, "If you come again, bring some seeds. Good seeds are hard to find around here."

Then he turned and went back to his garden.

Carol returned often after that. She brought something on each visit, whether salt, medicine, seeds, or a book. At first Eastman refused the gifts, leaving them untouched by his door. Only when a rainstorm soaked everything she had left did he finally carry them inside.

Little by little, he started looking forward to her visits. Not because of what she brought, but because he wanted to see her. Without either of them quite noticing when it happened, they became friends.

One day, Carol arrived to find Eastman splitting firewood. She watched in silence as his ax rose and fell with measured control. Each stroke cleaved a log cleanly in half, as though the tool had become an extension of his body.

"Why won't you come to Rock Fortress?" she asked suddenly.

Eastman put down his ax and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I told your friends before. I don't want to kill people."

"No one would make you."

He looked at her. "Judging by your weapons and equipment, it must be a sizable settlement. That means you'll clash with others over resources sooner or later, and clashes like that mean killing."

Carol was silent. She did not know how to argue with him.

"I don't want to take part in any of that again," Eastman said, weariness in his eyes.

Carol caught that last word immediately. "Again? You've been involved in something like that before?"

He fell quiet for so long that she thought he might never answer. When he finally emerged from his memories, he said, "I've saved people. I've also watched people die right in front of me. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to come to terms with those memories."

Carol asked nothing further. She knew that everyone carried wounds they could not bear to speak of.

A month later, she made another visit. This time she brought nothing. She stood outside the fence and watched Eastman watering the vegetables.

He noticed her, put down his bucket, and approached. "Carol, you..."

The words failed him, but her face told him she had something important to say.

Carol managed a strained smile. "Eastman, I've come to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" he repeated, taken aback.

"We've just finished fighting a battle back at the base. I have to return, and I probably won't be able to come here anymore."

"What battle?"

"Knoxville. We took the eastern part of the city back from the walkers." Her expression grew more somber. "Now we have to bring the East District under control. After that, we're planning to retake the entire city. It could take a long time."