Chapter 21 – Leading By Example

I awoke violently, gagging, like a swimmer coming up for air after too long underwater. I struggled to breathe, rolling to my side in the dirt and retching futilely. My hands wouldn't obey my commands to move and I realized they were tied behind my back. A pair of boots came into view and I craned my neck up. My captor stood above me, dropping the broken wrapper of smelling salts onto the ground.

"Nice of you to join us," Carver grinned. "Troy."

Troy grabbed me by the arms and hauled me up, my head spinning. He walked me over to a nearby campfire and sat me down on a log. Snarling, I shook off his grip, and he stepped back, replacing his hands on his rifle and watching me like a hungry dog awaiting orders from its master. I tested my bonds as Carver paced around the fire, taking a seat on a log opposite, placing the flames between him and I. I looked around – it was a meager camp, clearly not designed to last more than a few hours. A couple of men looked up at me but I could see no one else. The trees towered above us.

I turned my attention back to Carver, setting my jaw. "What are you waiting for?"

"Just look at you," he remarked, turning up the corner of his mouth. "Got your mama's eyes."

It sounded like something a relative would say to you, again and again until you were tired of hearing it. But that wasn't the world now. No relatives, no photos of relatives. Truthfully I couldn't even remember what my mother looked like, and even my father – though I saw him in Carver – was like a ghost to me.

"But everything else is your daddy's, ain't it? Funny, though, I don't see much of him in ya."

I didn't speak. I tried to imagine Carver and my father as young brothers together. And I realized I never thought about who was older. It had to have been Carver.

"What do you want?" I whispered, rotating my wrists inside the ropes.

"Right to the point. I like that," he replied, his voice gravelly. Despite the circumstances, it reminded me of Before, and was almost comforting as I remembered so much time spent on his lap, listening to him tell stories about his job, the handcuffs on his utility belt kneading at the small of my back. He'd been like a superhero in my eyes. And as I looked at him now, though he appeared the same, I couldn't believe how far we'd come. And how little I really did know about him. He straightened up, his face hardening. "Tell me about that ski lodge."

"Why do you want with those people?" I tested.

Carver eyed me for a moment before sighing deeply. "Do you know what the greatest sin is, darlin'? Ingratitude." His eyes glinted in the firelight. "I took those people in, gave them beds and a roof over their head, food to eat, and a family. And what do they do? Run off, stealing valuable supplies and causing me and the rest of mine some undue burden tryin' to hunt them down."

"Why not just let them go?" I countered. "Because of Rebecca?"

Carver stood, illuminated by the wisps of orange tinder floating above the fire, and came to stand before me. I swallowed, but kept eye contact. "Now what kind of father would I be if I abandoned my only child?"

Dad? Dad... The walker hissed and spat. Daddy!

"The baby's Alvin's," I returned. Carver's face hardened and he squatted down to my level.

"Tell me again what they did to you when you first met them."

My breath hitched in my throat and I dropped my eyes to the ground.

"And you trust them?" he pressed.

I raised my head. "I don't trust anyone."

In the darkness, he smiled eerily. "And you have me to thank for raisin' you right." He straightened up. "Though I'm not sure how I feel about you smoking."

I looked up, shocked. It was true, the half-consumed pack of Camels was still in my jacket pocket, but if the man could smell it on me in this frigid a climate, well... it at least explained where some of my tracking abilities had come from.

"Any left?"

What a tone change. I felt like I was being interrogated by the principal of my elementary school. "No."

Carver clearly didn't believe me, and nodded to Troy, who set his rifle against the backside of the log and reached for my lapel. I'd been working my bonds for as long as we'd been talking. As his grubby hands dug through the pockets of my jacket I quickly slipped my wrists free of the ropes and before anyone could stop me I pressed my hands down on the back of his head and rammed his face into my left knee.

Troy screamed, flailing backward, doubled-over against the log, clutching his nose. Hot, sticky blood poured through his fingers. "You little bitch!" he sputtered, spraying his fluids across my jacket. I scrambled back, but wasn't fast enough to evade his grasp.

Then we heard the gunshot and stilled. I pressed my hands to my ears to stop the ringing, squinting upward as Carver lowered the barrel of his Colt Python from the sky and dropped it back into its holster. Then he advanced. I flinched, but he stepped over me, grabbing Troy by the lapels of his jacket and hauling him off the log and onto his back in the dirt. Carver straddled him and pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. I heard Troy whimper as the cartilage snapped back into place. I saw his legs still as Carver raised his arm, and Troy made no sound when the blow came to the side of his face. For a moment, my heart seemed to stop, and Carver stood, towering over me. I reeled back but his arm was lightening fast, the back of his hand colliding with my cheek so hard I tasted blood. I clutched my face, feeling cold tears against my palms. He was unmoving, snatching me by the collar and dragging me to my feet.

"Don't make me ask again," he threatened. Breathing hard, I reached a trembling hand into my chest pocket, pulling the carton of cigarettes free and dropping it into his waiting hand.

"You get one free pass, kiddo," he clutched me tighter, drawing me uncomfortably close. "Lie to me again and you will regret it. Isn't that right, Troy?"

Troy was getting to his feet now, still covering his nose and glaring at me. "Yes, sir," he muttered, soldier-like.

"Do you and I have an understanding?" Carver turned back to me.

It would be one of the only times Troy led by example. "Yes, sir," I whispered hoarsely.