So life has been more chill post-finals...yet I am still a bit slow churning this out. Sometimes inspiration doesn't hit immediately. Go figure.
And here is my usual plug to check out Last of an Ancient Breed on the Halo/Mass Effect section, as well as the source fanfiction The Last Spartan by DinoJake. End plug.
Thank you to the people who have commented on the story so far. I am still open to additional feedback for anyone who would like to. It's really fun and the comments can help give me ideas for how to improve or direct the story.
So without further ado, here is the next chapter in Clay's adventure. When we last left our hero, he was beaten up by Lilly, bound up and left in a room in the Travelier Motel. What will come out of this? Let's find out.
...
Clay's night consisted of much tossing and turning. And not the fun kind...if that was even a euphemism people used. He slept fairly well when he fell onto the bed and for a while after, but soon he found it hard to get comfortable. That seemed to be a given thing when you were sick, in pain and had your hands bound behind your back!
That was just the physical stuff though. His mind was racing pondering what the group who kept him prisoner would do once they woke up. He hadn't been killed yet, so there was at least some conflict over the decision. So what? Would they just leave him in this room? Interrogate him again? Hurt him more? Kick him out? Worst-case scenarios ran through in a circular fashion, each more peculiar and potentially worse than the last.
While he thought all of this, however, a flash of light hit his eyes. He squinted as he saw the sun rise in the distance and flood his room with light. It certainly felt warm for a few moments. As the area lit up, he saw Lee sitting on a lawn chair on top of the RV, keeping a vigilant watch with a rifle in his hand. At least they kept a regular guard duty, even with a mild degree of protection to help them. Then again, they could have just done that to make sure he didn't escape. Like he said before, he wasn't going anywhere.
He then noticed other people gradually exit their rooms from across the way. It was then Lee hoped off the RV to greet Kenny, looking a little surly but friendly nonetheless as they walked toward Clay's position. He turned away and struggled to cover the blanket over him, sneezing a little in the process. He couldn't feel his hands though, probably from the numbness caused by being tied off. He noticed that some of the blood from his face had stained the pillows too, creating a rather unpleasant sight for anyone observing him. He didn't want to give them any other reasons to dislike him though, so he figured if he didn't look at them then it would be better.
"He been like that all night?" Clay heard Kenny say through the window. Don't look at them, he repeated in his head. Just pretend to be asleep...
"Looks like it," Lee replied. "Nothing out of the ordinary yet."
"Good. You believe any of that stuff he said?"
"Didn't sound like he was lying. Hard to tell these days though."
Tell me about it," Kenny said holding in a groan of pain.
"How's it feeling?"
"Still tender. Katjaa got the slug out, but I'll be sore for a few more days."
"Well let's hope we don't have any more surprises coming out way."
"I'm all for that."
Clay shifted subtly to get a little comfier. Maybe they would just ignore him anyway. Nothing they discussed concerned him much, so he might actually be able to sleep a little-
"Still pissed?" Kenny asked Lee. The silence that followed caught Clay's attention.
"You could have waited," Lee replied. "He would have lived."
"I did what I had to, Lee. You saw it yourself. He was dead as a door nail and going to come back. If I hadn't-"
"We don't know if he died. He might have pulled through."
"And what if he didn't? You gonna risk Clementine's life on a hunch?" Clay listened more intently as the man sighed angrily. "Not like I ever get a 'thank you' for sticking my ass on the line anyway."
"Kenny-"
"And what you said last night. You know, the whole 'you're no hero' thing? I'd rethink that if I were you, cause from what I saw, I was the only one with the balls to do what no one else could."
We can't just act impulsively like that?"
"Who said it was impulsive? I saw a problem, thought it through and dealt with it. You know, like how normal people solve shit."
The tension in their words was so palpable Clay could cut a knife trough it. What could Kenny have done? He definitely killed somebody, but this seemed like a much bigger deal than just those bad people they discussed last night.
"You keep pushing everyone to leave," Lee said. "But you're not thinking it through. How the hell are you going to convince Lilly now?"
"She wants to keep this piss hole? She can have it. We don't need her."
"We need her as much as we need everyone else from the group."
"I can do anything she can."
"You know that's not true."
"Oh? What does she do for us exactly? Yell at us, tell us when and how to eat, remind us how we're so dumb because we tried to help that son of a bitch coach? I can do all of that and more. It'd be one less mouth to feed-hey, is he listening to us?"
Clay's eyes widened. He remained still and waited to see what they would do, keeping his breathing slow to look like he was sleeping.
"...guess not," Lee replied. Clay felt some relief as relaxed his body. He must have looked tense from hearing the conversation.
"You going to deal with him?" Kenny asked.
"Is that a question or an suggestion?"
"How should I know? Lilly asks those questions so much better, right?" Kenny replied sarcastically as he walked away, leaving Lee to groan in frustration. Well, it looks like Clay and Lee would do a round two of question and answers this morning.
Then someone else came to the window.
"How's he doing?" He heard Carley say.
"He's still a bit steamed," Lee replied. "He did get shot last night-"
"I meant him," Carley replied tapping on the window.
"Oh. Well, he's still in the room."
"Very astute observation. My reporter skills must be rubbing off," she teased before changing tone. "We should talk to him.
"Lilly probably wouldn't-"
"Lilly doesn't have to decide everything, you know. And she's not here right now, so this would be the best time to do so."
"I know. It's just...yesterday was some of the worst shit I've ever dealt with."
"I can only imagine. Did they really make you eat Mark's legs?"
"They tried. I only barely stopped Clementine from eating any."
Eating Mark's legs? Clay wasn't sure what that was about, but he suddenly understood the paranoia towards him.
"Not exactly the home cooked meal we hoped for," Carley said.
"Nope. So finding this guy here hiding in the RV...well, I'm just a little hesitant around strangers now."
"Well it's your call."
Clay waited as Lee seemed to think it over. At least these two were more rational people to talk to than Lilly was, unless that was just a ruse.
"...alright," Lee said. "I'll talk to him."
"I'll go with you."
"I wouldn't want him to hurt you."
"I'm not getting the 'aggressive' vibes from him like I did with Andy and Danny. Even if I'm wrong, I have protection."
"Yeah. I can handle anything he can dish out."
"I meant my gun, Lee."
"Right. That too."
If Carley hadn't mentioned having a gun on her, Clay would have been more relieved that they were trying to be reasonable. He quickly thought over how he could explain himself or address any certain questions. All he had to do was be honest. He was still anxious, but maybe a good night's sleep would help smooth things over.
He heard them slide whatever was blocking the door out of the way and open it slowly. Clay lifted himself up pretending to have just woken up...and then saw a knife in Lee's hand! He gasped as he flopped onto the floor in surprise. Great! More threats and more making a fool of himself. He started scooting himself backwards until he hit a wall.
"Hey, whoa whoa!" Lee said lifting his hands up. "It's alright."
"Lee..." Carley said pointing to the knife in his hand.
"Right...probably not the best thing to wake up to," he said realizing.
Lee approached him casually, pointing the knife away as Clay looked down to the floor.
"I'm still going to be here, so you might as well look at me," Lee said.
"No one's looking for a reason to hurt you here," Carley added.
Clay slowly looked up and met Lee's eyes. There was something inviting about them, like a kind soul in a tough wrapper. Definitely less scary than Lilly's blood soaked scowl.
"If we want this to all work out," Lee said grabbing Clay's bonds. "We need to establish some trust. I'm going to cut the rope off but only if I can guarantee you won't try to hurt anyone. You understand?"
Clay looked to Carley, spotting the pistol in her hand. Even if he thought of escaping, he wouldn't make it very fair. Not that he planned to cause any harm anyway. So he turned to Lee and nodded.
"Alright," Lee replied as he got to work. "Maybe we can start off on a better foot today."
After several seconds of sawing, the bonds fell to the ground. Clay stood up and rubbed them together to get the blood circulating again. They felt bloated and tingly, but at least he could move them again.
"Must have been damn uncomfortable," Lee said.
Clay nodded as he moved back to the bed and sat down. Lee and Carley found a couple of chairs nearby the window to sit on as Clay felt another coughing fit overcome him. He covered his mouth looking away from them, mostly to not feel their worried looks on him. All that moving around didn't do any good for his already weak health.
"So..." Carley asked trying to start the conversation. "...it's Clay, right?"
He nodded.
"I'm Carley. This is Lee."
More silence followed as they thought of what to say next. That didn't comfort Clay much. They weren't going for the aggressive route, but they hadn't thought of saying 'you're free to go' or something else more inviting. The tingle in his hands heightened as Lee decided to speak up.
"So you're from Atlanta then?"
Clay shook his head.
"Well then where?"
"U...utah," Clay said after some hesitation.
"Pretty fair from home."
Yeah."
"Are you a missionary?" Carley asked.
Before he could question that seemingly random guess, Carley reached into her pocket and pulled out his missionary tags.
"We found these in your backpack," she continued. "Had to make sure you didn't have anything dangerous in there."
Clay nodded. At least these people followed your typical airport procedure when dealing with suspicious bags left on their own.
"So is your name Clay or Elder?" She asked as she lightly tossed the tags onto the bed.
"Elder's a title," Clay replied picking the tags up. "It's...um, it's like Mr."
"How come you have two?"
Clay realized that she was referring to Elder Smith's tag. Stopping himself from reliving the memory again, he gripped the tag and looked down to the floor.
"Was Elder Smith a friend of yours?" Lee asked.
He nodded in reply. "He...he was a good friend..."
"Sorry to hear that," Carley said realizing.
Clay put the tags in his pockets as he decided to not avoid the question on his mind any further. "Are you going to kick me out?"
That seemed to surprise the other two, which wasn't a good sign.
"Sorry," he quickly apologized as he started to stand up. "I didn't mean to...I mean, I can leave now if you-"
Before he could finish, he started coughing again. It was starting to turn more into a guttural hacking noise the more he did it.
"I don't think you're fit enough to go anywhere just yet," Lee said.
Clay slowly sat back onto the bed and laid back on the pillow.
"We're not all agreed on what to do," Carley said jumping in. "But Lee and I don't want to throw you out."
So he at least had two votes of confidence.
"It's not a guarantee you will stay, be we thought you should know," Lee added.
And there went Clay's confidence.
"Was everything you said true last night?" Carley asked.
He nodded sitting back up.
"So you went into Atlanta, knowing it was full of walkers, managed to get out without being bitten and rode all the way to Macon?"
Clay nodded again, knowing that it would sound crazy if it wasn't true.
"Damn," Lee said. "That's pretty impressive."
Clay didn't know how to reply. He figured it was if they said so, especially once they told it back to him everything he did. He didn't want to be too prideful about it though. That wasn't in line with being a missionary.
A knock was heard from behind. Everyone turned to see Katjaa standing in the doorway.
"Lee," she said. "Lilly hasn't left her room yet. She's usually out and about by now."
"I think we can cut her some slack given the circumstances, Katjaa," Lee said.
"I know, but something doesn't feel right. Call if some kind of intuition. I just figured maybe you should...well, check in on her."
Lee looked to Carley, who didn't offer any protest, before standing up. "Alright. Do we have any cold medicine to spare, by the way?"
"Is it for...?" Katjaa said pointing to Clay.
"He can see you."
"I know."
"...yeah, it's for him."
Well it was nice for Clay to know that he had to be addressed in third person when talking to Katjaa...
"I think I have some. I'll go check."
"Thanks," he said as they both left.
So now Clay and Carley were alone in the room, unsure what to say to each other. Clay sniffled and cleared his throat as he rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out.
"Katjaa means well," Carley said sensing his unease. "It's been a rough day."
Clay's curiosity got the better of him as he decided to just get his question off his chest. "W-what happened?"
Carley hesitated to answer. Not that she couldn't, it seemed, but that she didn't know where to start.
"Nevermind," he apologized. "You don't have-"
"No, it's fine," Carley interrupted. "It's...just a long stay." She took a breath and continued. "We ran out of food yesterday. So when two guys came out of the forest offering to trade food for fuel, we blindly trusted them."
Clay leaned forward to listen carefully.
"They took us to their dairy and offered us dinner as a sign of good will. I came back here to make sure ate and waited for them to come back...but they didn't. So I went back to find them. Turns out...those people were trying to serve US for dinner."
Clay's eyes widened. "What?"
"I know...that's what I thought when I found everyone else locked in a barn. I was too late to save Mark and Larry, but we barely managed to get everyone else out."
"Are..are they still out there?"
"I don't know. Last we saw, a bunch of walkers overran the dairy. Whether they made it out or not, we won't give them a chance to hurt us again. So...you can kind of understand the hostile treatment."
Clay nodded. So it wasn't enough for the walkers to try and eat people. Now people were eating people. She probably told him more than he needed to hear to be fair, but he chalked that up to being a missionary. From what he had been told and experienced, people were prone to sharing burdens and frustrations with missionaries. Elder Smith said it was something on a subconscious level that associates missionaries with how people perceive priests in other faiths. When someone's chips are down and wants to get something off their chest, anyone proclaiming to be a man of God was good as another.
"Yeah," he replied. "Sorry."
"So how long have you been a missionary for?"
"Hm..." Clay said thinking it over. "Well, before all of this...um, a month. No, uh, a month and half."
"Guess you got the wrong time to be sent out."
"Yeah...so, you met missionaries before?"
"I met some women missionaries while covering a story in Athens. Did you know them? I think one of them was...oh, who was it? Young Mexican girl..."
"Oh, um, yeah, uh...uh, Sister Vega."
"Yeah! She had that lisp in her accent. It was kind of adorable. Did you know her well?"
Clay shook his head. "I didn't get to know a lot of people. I just remember hearing she finished her mission and went back to Tampico a week before the outbreak."
"Wow...lucky her."
"Maybe..."
A short pause was held between them as Carley turned to him.
"You seem like a nice, you know."
"Hm?"
"We haven't met a lot of new people lately and not many nice ones. You haven't come off as untrustworthy though. Hopefully everyone else can warm up to you."
Clay was a bit surprised by the compliment. He appreciated it of course, but he was just happy that someone as pretty as her was complimenting him. That wouldn't have happened back home.
"Thanks," he replied. "You're pretty cute too..." He then realized what he said. "Cool! Cool. You seem pretty...um, uh, cool...and stuff..."
He blushed, embarrassed by his slip up. Thankfully, she just smiled back at him. He couldn't tell if she was doing that because of the compliment or if he made her uncomfortable. He had a tendency to do the latter more than he should.
Thankfully, Katjaa showed up before he could go further down that rabbit hole. She had Clay's backpack slung over one of her shoulders and some cold pills in her hands.
"Feels like a bag full of bricks," Katjaa said with some strain as she slid the backpack onto the floor and gave Carley the pills. She didn't look at Clay once though, which caused him some concern. He thought about Carley saying people may warm up to him, but he felt it might be a little harder than he thought. To be fair, he did scare the daylights out of them last night. He figured he should at least try more on his part to make friends.
"...thank you," he said after clearing his through.
Katjaa hesitated slightly hearing this, but eventually nodded to him before leaving the room. Well...at least it was something.
"Here," Carley said setting the pills on the nightstand by the bed. "You should probably take those now. The sooner you feel better, the sooner people can get to know you better."
Clay nodded as she stood up to leave. "Thanks for being nice to me," he said.
Carley looked back to him and smiled. "We should treat others how we want to be treated. That's the old Christian principle, right?"
"Something like that," he said smiling back.
She walked to the door as something crossed Clay's mind. He should have let that last exchange be where they left the conversation, but he really took her advice to heart. And there was one person who would likely be the hardest to warm up to him.
"Uh...Carley?"
Carley stopped and looked back as she reached the door.
"...um..." he continued trying to think of how best to ask it. "Those people who were...eaten at the dairy..." He knew the answer would be bad no matter how he asked. "Did Lilly know them? You know...personally?"
She hesitated for a moment, which could only lead to bad news.
"Larry was her dad," she replied.
That explained a lot, Clay realized to himself.
"Oh...and the um...blood all over her...?"
She nodded anticipating his question. He felt his stomach churn just imagining how that scenario could have played out.
"Oh...ok," he said trailing off.
Another awkward beat of silence passed as Carley reached for the handle.
"Hope you feel better soon," she said closing the door before he could say 'thank you.'
Clay sighed as he slumped into his pillow. Way to go moron, he thought to himself. He had to ask about that right after they were starting to get along. He made her feel awkward with that 'cute' comment and he brought the mood down asking about Lilly. Thankfully, she didn't slide the thing blocking the door back. So at least she meant it when she said she felt he was trustworthy. Or it was a test. Either way, he wasn't planning on walking out at that moment.
He groaned as he stood out of the bed, his sore muscles stretching as he walked over to pick up his backpack. At he was getting a clearer picture of what was going on here. These people had gone through a lot since yesterday. Cannibals, losing family members, walkers and more. Him showing up was just the icing on the cake.
As he made it back to the bed, he pulled out a water bottle, took the pills and get under the covers. He noticed the pills were the PM kind, which was probably for the best. Maybe being knocked out cold by the medicine would give him time to process everything he learned...
….
Clay woke up feeling groggy and disorientated. How could he not? PM cold medicine did that to him every time. He held a hand to his head to check his temperature. He still felt warm, but not nearly as sick as he felt that morning. He did worry about his eyes though, as everything seemed darker than usual.
Until he realized it wasn't him. The sun was setting outside and it was getting dark quick. He woke up just in time to go back to sleep. He felt too rested to do that though. Maybe he should do some scripture reading or something to keep himself occupied until he felt tired again.
He sat up, helped himself to one of his remaining granola bars and opened up his scriptures. He flipped up his bookmark and used the flashlight to start where he left off. Unfortunately, that PM medicine was still in effect, as the words on the pages seemed to blur together and he couldn't focus on reading them. He tried his best to power through the reading, but after a few verses he felt himself losing track again. He started thinking about everything that had happened since he came to the motel. Falling off the bike in the rain. Resting on the couch. Hogtied on the ground by Lilly. The tingling sensation of his bound hands. Seeing Carley's smile...
He folded the bookmark back down. If he was going to read today, he needed to read it where he could actually get something out of it. He needed to do something else to stay focused in the meantime. Maybe walking around outside would help tire him out. Probably not the best thing to do in his condition, but he was feeling cooped up in this room.
Putting his book back into his backpack, he stood out of the bed and put on his uncle's jacket, zipping it up tightly. He hadn't packed any decent cold weather gear, so he had to rely on putting his hands under his armpits in the meantime. He sighed as he approached the door. Time to go back out into the scary world, he thought to himself opening the door.
As he walked outside, he started to feel awkward again. Everybody was still out and about even at this hour. Well, everyone except Lilly. She might still be in her room like Katjaa mentioned earlier. Kenny and his family sat on the couch by the RV having some kind of chat. Clementine was coloring something on a box nearby. Carley and Ben examined the fence for...something. There was no sign of Lee either, which meant he might be still checking up on her.
Clay looked around as he decided what to do. It felt like trying to find the right place to sit during lunch at school. He would say at the construction site, but those guys were surprisingly less intimidating than kids. He didn't know if he should even try to talk to anyone. For all he knew, they still saw him as some kind of creep who hid in the bathroom. He figured he should just walk around the covered area by the doors just so he wouldn't bother them.
"Hi!" Someone then said.
He looked over to see Clementine waving his direction. He looked around to see if he she was referring to someone else, only to realize he was the only person there. He waved back at her timidly.
"Come see what I drew," she said with a smile.
He hesitated at first, not sure if anyone would judge him for talking to her. She just wanted to show her drawings, he said to himself. It was a totally innocent request, right? He wouldn't do anything crazy just by checking it out.
He walked over to her and knelt down beside the box as she held up a piece of paper. "Check it out," she said. It was a collection of animals with some simple drawings of people around them. It looked like something his brother drew when they were kids.
"That's, uh...really nice," he said trying to be sincere while nervously checking to see if anyone was watching him. No one had yet, which was slightly comforting.
"Thanks! Lee found some more crayons and paper for me, so I don't have to kick the ball all the time."
Clay was about to ask about the ball until he looked over to see a lone soccer ball by a dumpster. It didn't look like they had a lot of fun things for kids to do at this hotel, so he figured it was a treat to find anything fun to do.
"Yeah," he replied. "I can't imagine it's fun to just do that over and over again. Hey...um, sorry I scared you yesterday."
"I think Lilly scared you more than you scared us," she said. "She can be mean, but she's not a bad person."
"Yeah," he said hesitantly hoping she was right
"Are you still sick?
"Hm? Oh, uh, a little but I'm feeling better."
"That's good. Being sick is the worst!"
"Seriously."
"I missed a whole week of school once because I had the flu."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but my mom and dad gave me soup and cookies to help me get better."
"I didn't know soup and cookies helped cure flus."
"Maybe they can find you some."
Clay chuckled. "That would be nice. Um, I'm Clay by the way."
"I'm Clementine," she said doodling some more on her paper.
"That's a really nice name."
"Thanks. Your name's cool too."
Clay sat that, feeling a little more comfortable, as she continued her work. "So, uh, you like to draw?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded. "My teacher let us draw during free time."
"What, uh, do you like drawing the most?"
"I dunno. Anything I can think about."
"That's cool."
"Yeah...you want to draw something?"
"Hm?"
"I have more paper. You could draw with me if you want."
Clay nervously checked around just in case someone was watching him. Still a totally innocent request, he thought to himself.
"...sure," he said sitting down more properly as she handed him some paper.
"Here," she said then handing a blue crayon. "I don't need this one right now."
"Thanks," he said taking it and looking down at the paper. "Don't judge me. I'm not as good as you."
She giggled as he put the tip of the crayon onto the paper. He hadn't sketched or drawn anything for a while. Not that he was a master artist, but he did like to doodle on his homework assignments back in the day. One of his teachers even encouraged him to keep practicing and try for some of the drawing classes. He never did though. Seeing the other works people put up in the art room made him feel inadequate.
After a few moments, he thought of something easy he could draw and got to work. He hadn't used a crayon in years, but he did his best to roll with it. He started with a basic outline as he thought on which details to tackle first. His rudimentary skills were slowly coming back to him.
"What are you drawing?" Clementine asked peeking up from her paper.
"Um...it's a surprise," he said as he shook some crayon scraps off the paper. "I'll, uh, show you when I'm done."
"Cool! Were you an artist?"
"Hm?"
"Before the monsters. Were you an artist?"
"Oh...uh, no, it's just something I liked to do."
"So what did you do?"
He was about to explain being a missionary, but figured it might be a bit much for her. So he went with answer B. "I, uh...back home, I used to work for my uncle's construction company."
"Really? Like with the hat and everything?"
"Only when necessary, so yeah, all the time."
"That's cool. What did you build?"
"Houses, office buildings, whatever they asked us to. We even built a playground once."
"Really?"
"Well, we mostly just fixed it up, but it looked nice when we finished."
"Did you get to play in it when you were done?"
"Nah. I'm too big. Do you want to see my big butt get stuck halfway through a slide?"
She chuckled. "You're not that big! Ben's taller than you."
He looked over to see Ben pick up a hammer as he proceeded to work on something with Carley. "Yeah, he'd get stuck first."
The two of them smiled as they proceeded to draw some more. It was weird, but he found himself being able to talk to Clementine pretty easily. Maybe it was just her being a kid, but she seemed a little more aware than children her age. Whatever the case, it was nice to have an uncomplicated conversation.
"Hey Clay," Clementine then said.
"Yeah?"
"Lee said you talk about God to people. Is that right?"
Clay was surprised by the question, pausing his drawing as he looked up to her. "Um...uh, yeah. Kind of."
"Is that part of being a construction worker?"
"Not really," Clay said with a smirk. "It's...uh, it's my other job."
Clementine nodded, clearly thinking about something else as she looked back to the drawing. "Is...is God nice to people?"
Clay raised an eyebrow at the question. "Well...yeah. He's like a dad."
"Did he make the monsters?"
"...I...I don't know," he replied. He wasn't exactly sure where these questions were going.
"I...I feel scared sometimes," she said pausing her own doodling. "I think the monsters are making people crazy."
"How so?"
She hesitated before looking up to him with a pair of puppy dog eyes. "Could...could you ask God if he can keep Lee safe?"
It was such a sincere question. Clay couldn't think of a time when someone asked something like that from him. It didn't seem too unexpected a question to be fair, after knowing what happened last night.
"...sure," he said. "Absolutely."
"Thanks," she said seemingly content with the answer as she continued doodling.
After a few more moments, set his crayon down and pushed his paper towards Clementine. "I promised I'd show you. It's probably not that good."
She grabbed the paper and checked it, smiling as she recognized it. "Oh cool! It's a puppy."
It's supposed to be a full grown dog, he thought to himself, but it could be a puppy if she wanted.
"Yeah," he said. "It's my dog Gus from back home."
"What kind of dog?"
"A yellow lab. Well, you can't tell because of the...um, blue, but yeah he's a lab."
"It's really nice. I wish I could draw like that."
"Well, you, uh, could keep it if you want."
"Really?"
He nodded with a smile.
"Wow! Thanks, Clay."
Right then, Clay looked up to see Lee walk over towards them. He straightened himself up in case Lee was going to criticize him for spending too much time with her. It was probably a little strange for a young man to draw with a little girl.
"Hey Lee," Clementine said holding up the paper. "Clay drew me a puppy."
"Is that so?" Lee replied noticing the work. "Well that was nice of you Clay."
Clay wasn't sure if that was a genuine compliment, but he went along with it. "Uh...th-thanks."
"You two getting along?" Lee asked Clementine sitting next to her.
"Yeah! We were just talking."
"About what?"
"He used to build playgrounds back home."
"Really?" Lee said turning to Clay. "Parks and recreation?"
"Construction," Clay said correcting. "My, uh, uncle owned a construction company and we, um, contracted out to different places. One of them was a playground."
"Pretty useful skill to have. Feeling any better?"
"Yeah. I mean, I still feel...eh, you know, but yeah the medicine helped."
"Well give it another day or two. I'm sure it'll pass."
Clay nodded nervously looking to the ground. On the one hand, Lee still seemed to think he wasn't a threat. On the other hand, he suspected Lee thought he was a freeloader. Sleeping all day. Drawing with kids. Clay's mission president wouldn't put up with lazy time. He needed to do something more...missionary like.
"So, uh..." Clay said. "Can I...help with anything?"
Lee looked to him confused.
"I mean, like...you know, if I can...I um, don't want to be a burden. You know? Like, is there anything I can do to help?"
"I think we're good for right now, but I'll let you know if anything comes up," Lee replied.
"Oh...ok," Clay said looking over to Carley and Ben. Whatever they were doing with that hammer had aroused his curiosity and not just because Carley was there. If he couldn't help Lee, maybe he could find something else to do.
"Hey, uh..." He said standing up. "I'm going to, uh, check with Carley. Is that ok?"
"You don't have to ask permission," Lee replied. "We're not in school."
"Oh, right. Sorry...well, uh, nice talking to you guys."
"See ya, Clay," Clementine said as he walked away. Well...at least he seemed to be good with Clementine. That should help with the other people, right? He quickly peaked over his shoulder and noticed Lee talking to Clementine about something. That didn't help any lingering paranoia he had felt. Were they talking about him? He tried not to think about it.
He covered a mouth over his hand to cough as he approached Carley, which caught her attention.
"Hey Clay," she said. "How are you feeling?"
"Alright," he replied. "Not great but better. So uh, what are you doing here?"
Clay watched as Ben tested out some boards hastily nailed together to support the fence. He had a hammer in one hand, some nails between his fingers and a few random tools off to the side. He secretly hoped Ben wasn't responsible for the fence, which was kind of hard to look at.
"We're trying to patch some holes in the fence," she replied as Ben hammered a nail. "It's a little harder than expected."
"OW!" Ben shouted dropping the hammer and shaking one of his hands, which sported a freshly bruised thumb. "Stupid hammer..."
"Do you, uh, need any help?" Clay asked.
"Yes, please!" Ben replied exasperated.
"You have any experience with fences?" Carley asked.
"A little," Clay replied. "We didn't do a lot of fences, but I've worked with wood."
"'We?'"
"Sorry. My, uh, uncle and me. I worked construction with him. So, um...how much wood do we have?"
"Not much," Carley replied pointing to a small pile off to the side. She wasn't kidding. Even calling it a pile was generous, as it was mostly a couple of planks and a few scrap pieces scattered about.
"Carley!" Katjaa called from one of the buildings. "Could you give me a hand?"
"Sure, I'll be right over," Carley replied before looking to the guys. "I'll be right back. Need anything for the fence?"
"Um...I guess a little glue if there's any," Clay replied.
"Alright," she said walking away, leaving Clay and Ben to awkwardly stand around for a few seconds.
"So...what tools do we have?" Clay asked.
"I don't know," Ben replied. "I just got here."
"Huh?"
"I only met everyone yesterday. They rescued me and my teacher from some walkers."
"Oh. Who's your teacher?"
"...him," Ben replied pointing over to the blood stains by the truck. They had moved the body since yesterday apparently.
"...oh. I'm sorry."
"Me too."
"So how come they trust you?" Clay asked surprised.
"Who says they do?"
"Well...I mean, why didn't they-"
"Tie me up? I think not hiding in the RV helped."
"...oh," Clay groaned. Yeah, looks like that was going to hang over his head for a while. He sighed as he looked at the fence. "So you didn't work on this fence?"
"No, Larry and Mark did."
"Oh..." Clay said turning to Ben. "I, uh, heard about what happened."
"Yeah, me too."
"You weren't there?"
"Carley and I waited at the motel while everyone else went up to eat. She figured something was off when they didn't show up. They probably wouldn't have made it out if we didn't find them."
"Geez..."
"Yeah. Lilly hasn't left her room since last night. Losing your dad must be hell."
Clay shuddered a little inside, trying not to open that conversation topic, as he pointed to the pile of wood. "Can you help me get that board on the bottom?"
"How come?" Ben said following.
"It might be a good base for part of the fence...or maybe we can consolidate it to a new section. I dunno. Something."
The two of them moved to the pile as Clay thought that idea over again. There was some kind of irony that the two new guys were the ones working on keeping the group protected, but there was also the creepy irony that the last two guys who worked on the fence were dead. Maybe that was a coincidence. Who could tell the difference anymore? Still, he was glad to get a closer look at the fence. He mulled over possible ways he could rework the boards and possibly expand upon what the group had done before.
"So, where are you from?" Ben asked as they moved the other items off the board.
"...Utah," Clay replied half listening still thinking about that fence.
"Where's that"
Clay hesitated for a moment hearing that. So it seems that a lot of people in the South have no idea where Utah, Idaho or Colorado were.
"It's, um, right above Nevada," he replied as he lifted one side of the board.
"Oh," Ben said lifting the other side. "What brought you out here?"
"I'm...I'm a missionary."
"For what church?"
"I'm a Mormon," Clay said leading them to the fence.
"Those the guys with the six wives?"
Clay resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was the thing everyone in the South seemed to know that wasn't true. "Nope. Just one like everyone else."
"So are you married?"
"No."
"Girlfriend?"
"No."
"Are you gay?"
"...no," Clay replied suppressing a cough as they reached a good spot and set the board down.
"It's ok if you are, you know."
"I know, but I'm not gay."
"Alright. Just saying. I knew some Baptist guys who were closeted. Nearly drove them crazy to-"
"Can we talk about something else?" Clay interrupted. He really wasn't gay, but the conversation was going in an awkward direction he didn't feel like follow.
"Oh...um, sure..." Ben replied followed by several seconds of uncomfortable silence. So far, this had been Clay's least favorite conversation. "Sorry..."
"It's ok," Clay replied looking to the fence and then back to Ben. "Um, what do you think?"
"Huh?"
"You see a good place to put the board?"
"Oh, um, I don't know," Ben replied looking at the fence. "So how come they send young guys to be missionaries?"
"Sorry?"
Well, usually preachers are old guys. At least the ones I know. How old are you?"
"Um...twenty-two."
"Really? I thought you were younger."
"...thanks," Clay said unsure if that was a compliment or not. "You?"
"Eighteen. Do you have any family in Georgia?"
Clay shook his head. "They're all back in Utah."
"Sorry. Yeah, I'm kind of in the same boat. I mean, they're in Georgia, but it's too dangerous to go out and find my hometown. Too many walkers around."
Clay nodded, keeping to himself the desire to note that he had it worse than Ben. It didn't seem like the right thing to say.
"So...I'm feeling a little tired," Clay said stretching his arm. "How about, um, we sleep on it tonight and then start tomorrow?"
"Oh, uh, sure," Ben said. Before Clay could leave though, Ben had one more though. "So, how come they send young guys?"
Right, Clay thought. He never answered that.
"Um..." He started to say thinking of an answer. "...hm, I guess it has something to do with being, um, 'necessary to become an adult.' Um...I dunno really, to be honest."
"Ok," Ben replied as they both left.
Clay was happy to leave, if only because that conversation had reached its conclusion a while ago. However, now he had something he could devote time too. He felt he needed a little more time alone with the fence to know what to do next though. Maybe he could sneak in some time later tonight...
…
Clay's nap only lasted a couple hours as he awoke and night settled neatly over all the land. He waited in his room for a few moments, making sure everyone had gone to bed, as he thought over his plan. He still didn't feel well enough to do a lot of work tonight, but he could have some time to himself to think over a plan and maybe get Ben to help out in the morning. He just needed a plan. Uncle Hyrum always said that trying to do a job without a plan meant you were planning to fail.
Once it seemed everyone went to bed, Clay got himself ready. He slipped on his construction gloves, took one of his remaining water bottles and put his jacket on before exiting the room. Quickly walking outside, he found that Clementine had left a spare piece of paper on that crate she drew on. He figured she had plenty to spare, taking it with him as he pulled one of the pens from his apartment out of his pocket. He needed to make sure he took careful notes on what he had at his disposal and what he needed to use for what purpose. Just treat it like any hob, he thought to himself.
Clay clicked the pen and wrote 'Fence Plan' on the top of the paper. His scribbling echoed throughout the parking lot, which probably felt more eerie than it actually was based on the circumstances from the last time he was out here in the night. He shook his head and made a few boxes so he could take inventory of the items they have available and what would be needed. It wasn't that the fence was a total wreck, but he could already see a minimum of four places that could be better fortified in case something happened. He wouldn't have a lot of margin for error with what he had available but it was a start.
He clipped the handle of the pen onto the paper and walked closer to the fence. This shouldn't take much longer than-
"What are you doing?" A voice then said.
Clay nearly jumped out of his shoes as he dropped the paper and pen onto the ground. That was a voice he had quickly learned to fear. He turned around slowly and his legs shook as he saw Lilly sitting on top of the RV with a pistol in hand.
"I said..." Lilly continued as she hopped off the RV and approached him. "What are you doing?"
"I...uh, I-I, um...I was just..." He stammered nervously as she got right up into his face, her steely eyes keeping him unable to look away. The image of her covered in blood still burned in the back of his brain, making it even harder for him to answer. "I...um, sorry...if you wanted to, um, go on and...I'll, um, just go back to bed...goodnight!"
He started to power walk away before he felt one of her hands grip firmly around his shirt collar from behind.
"Wait!" She said sternly.
Clay froze and closed his eyes in anticipation. Was she going to pistol whip him right there?
"I..." He said still stammering. "I, um, I didn't mean to...I just-"
"Stop talking...please..." Lilly said with a more softened but still upset tone. It was then that he noticed that her hand was not nearly as firm on his collar as he thought. In fact, it was shaking a little. "I'm...sorry about yesterday."
Clay peeked his eyes open and did his best to relax his nerves. Was she actually apologizing or was it a test? Maybe she was trying to see what he would say.
"You're just going to let that apology hang?" She asked pointedly.
"Oh!" Clay said, quickly deciding to go along with it whatever the intention was. "Um...I'm sorry that I, um, scared you. I mean, that I was hiding and...uh, didn't...know you were living here." He then got a strange vibe from her. He couldn't explain it, but she seemed...sad. Angry still of course, but it wasn't just an aggressive anger like he had presumed.
She let go of his shirt collar, allowing him to turn around and face her nervously. She then knelt down, picking up his pen and paper. "'Fence plan?'" She read. "What's this about?"
"I...I wanted to help fix the fence."
"It's not broken."
"No, I, um...sorry, not fix. I mean, it's a good fence and I, uh, I mean, I wanted to make it better...maybe."
Lilly glanced up from the paper at him. "What makes you qualified?"
"...I did construction back in Utah?"
She sighed, still holding on to his paper, as she walked to the fence. "My dad worked hard on this fence, you know."
"...yeah. Yeah, I'm sure h-he did."
Lilly put a hand against the fence and closed her eyes. "We wanted to keep everyone safe," she said to no one in particular. "...I wanted to keep everyone safe."
Clay stood where he was as she lowered her hand from the fence. She seemed more...vulnerable than she was yesterday. Her posture was still tense, but more in a reserved way this time. Her voice echoed a lingering sorrow more than before. It honestly worried Clay a little...but he wasn't going to address it first. It wasn't his place.
"Lee said you're a missionary. Is that true?" She asked him with her back still towards him.
Clay nodded.
"So you really believe there's someone out there? Someone watching all of us suffer like this."
"...yes," he replied unsure how to address that tone of question.
"...guess someone has to," she said crossing her arms and sighing. "You don't have to lie, you know?"
"Hm?"
"With all of this stuff about a fence plan. After what happened yesterday, I wouldn't blame you for leaving."
Clay raised his eyebrows surprised at the assumption.
"I won't stop you. I'll just say I didn't see anything if someone asks."
For a moment, Clay looked to the dumpsters and pondered the idea of running back to his room, grabbing his stuff and leaving. This would probably the easiest time to do it and he had every reason to do so...
...and yet, some lingering feeling of doubt overruled that thought. It didn't feel right. Everything that he learned about the group, how Lilly was acting at that moment and more told him that him leaving might actually do more harm than good. So, knowing he might kick himself for the decisions, he looked back to Lilly.
"I...I don't want to leave," he said.
"Of course you do," she replied agitated. "Everyone wants to leave. Fickle little shitheads. Whenever they've needed something, I've had to bend over backwards to help. But when I ask Kenny for one thing to help me..."
She went quiet for a few seconds before turning around to face Clay. "It always happens. You put your faith in people and they'll let you down. They'll tell you whatever you want to hear until something is put to the test." She uncrossed her arms and narrowed her glare to meet Clay's eyes. "So why should I believe that you want to stay?"
Beads of sweat trickled across Clay's forehead as he almost rethought the idea of leaving. That feeling to stay was still inexplicably winning though, so he blurted out the first answer he could think of.
"...be-because...because I want to help you," he said.
Lilly raised an eyebrow before walking up to his face once again. "Why do you think I need help?"
"...because I've lost a dad too."
An awkward pause lingered in the air for several seconds before Lilly replied. "How?"
Clay felt uncomfortable bringing up the thought of his dad again, but decided it might be part of that feeling that he should stick around to help.
"Heart attack."
"When?"
"...when I was eight."
Lilly took a step back and crossed her arms. "At least he wasn't murdered."
"Yeah...I-I heard what those people did to him."
It was then Lilly shot him a very surprised eyebrow raise. "They didn't tell you, did they?" Clay must have given a very confused look based on how she responded next. "Back at the dairy, those bastards locked us in a barn after feeding us Mark's legs. My dad had a heart attack and I tried to revive him. Lee jumped in to help...until Kenny decided my dad wasn't worth saving."
...that certainly explained a lot, Clay realized to himself.
"...well," Lilly said crossing her arms and looking to the ground. "Now you know."
"...I'm sorry."
"Me too..." Lilly said looking back up. "So you really want to stick around after knowing that?"
"...yeah," Clay said as confidently as he could. It wasn't the most comforting piece of news, but he had gotten in too deep now so he might as well keep going.
Lilly took a step back and stared at him before continuing. "Then listen carefully. Anything that Kenny tries to tell you...about being your friend, about protecting the kids, about how he wants the best for everyone...he's a damn liar. He'll try to win you over with his bumpkin charm and nice words, but it's all a charade. The moment he can throw you under a bus to save his hide or his family's, he won't hesitate."
"Then why does everyone tolerate him?"
"...they're his friends. At least, they think they are. If I could, I would have thrown Kenny to the walkers at the dairy. It would solve a lot of problems. I can't though and I've got people to protect here. Lee, Clementine, Duck...and they're already looking for a reason to hate me. So I'm going to put up with him until he proves me wrong...or they see that I'm right."
Clay could feel a nervous shiver run down his spine. He hadn't talked to Kenny yet, but Lilly was certainly painting a troubling picture for him. Then again, he remembered what Elder Smith said about judging people he didn't know. Part of being a missionary was dealing with people who others wouldn't give a chance to. However, most of those people weren't murderers...at least not that Clay knew of.
"So I need you to do something for me," Lilly added.
"Oh...um, what?"
"I need you to have my back."
Clay raised an eyebrow.
"Lee's always going to be on the fence to make everyone happy, but I'm always going to be outnumbered otherwise. I need you to back me up on a decision and keep me in the loop if you sense something fishy. Ok?"
Clay thought it over for a moment. He could understand he logic of wanting to please everyone, so he figured he would side with Lee better on that. Still, he could tell she needed somebody to be there for her.
"Ok," he said nodding.
Lilly smirked before looking back to the fence. "So...where shall we start?"
"Huh?"
"You got a 'fence plan,' right? Might as well lend you a hand since I'm here. Or is this a one man thing?"
"Oh, uh, no," Clay said as she handed his paper and pen back. "Yeah, that would be great."
The two of them walked over to the fence as Clay began scribbling down some notes on the paper. In the back of his mind, he thought back to everything the two of them talked about. Trust was important to establish with anyone, so hopefully he managed to gain some good trust with Lilly. They both needed friends, so maybe this will work to a mutual advantage. He didn't want to just be an enemy to anyone in the group though. So he would help Lilly but try to learn what he could about Kenny and everyone else.
He would say 'what's the worse that could happen,' but that would be pushing more than he already was...
...
And...scene! So things are a bit better for Clay at the moment. See boys and girls. Sometimes being a nice guy can help. This is The Walking Dead though. We can only wonder how long any character's good luck can last...
Look for another chapter to come out soon. Another huge thanks to all of you readers and keep up the comments. Anything seem like it could be improved or feels out of place? Let me know.
