A week later Carl had recovered enough to walk outside.
The wound still hurt.
But he refused to stay inside.
Ghost stood near the fence practicing knife movements.
Carl watched him closely.
"You promised to teach me."
Ghost stopped.
Carl held up his hands.
"I remember."
Ghost studied him for a moment.
"You're still injured."
Carl shrugged.
"I can still learn."
Ghost handed him a small training knife.
Carl's eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Basic lesson."
Carl stood straight.
Ghost spoke calmly.
"Rule one."
Carl listened carefully.
"Never panic."
Ghost demonstrated a simple movement.
Precise.
Efficient.
"Rule two."
Carl copied the motion awkwardly.
"Control distance."
Carl tried again.
Better this time.
Beth watched from the porch.
She smiled slightly.
Because for the first time since the apocalypse began…
Carl looked confident.
And the strange masked soldier teaching him…
Didn't look so distant anymore.