Clark looked on past the gates, staring into the darkness he was to drive into.
The mist of the ocean had begun to draw in close to the camp walls, slowly rolling over the sea to cloak everything else in its shroud. Attempting to push through, the sun was struggling to fit its rays of light through the gaps in the mist, instead opting for a faint glow from behind where he stood.
He was ready for what he was about to commit himself to, ready for the journey and drive. He had packed the car and with the help of the others, had loaded it with enough supplies to last him for a while. Thinking of them, he turned back around to look at the figures staring back at him, all the twenty-six pairs of eyes that belonged to the camp. Some were pitiful, few full of sorrowful, but most were full of contempt. He didn't need the words to know how most of them felt towards his leaving.
From the crowd, two figures stepped forward, one male and one female. They all met each other's blue eyes, observing for a moment before the young woman leapt forward to wrap her arms around Clark. She sobbed silently in his shoulder, his burly mass taking most of her embrace for her to clutch. His eyes soften, resting his head onto hers and looking at the figure behind her. The figure looked away, avoiding eye contact.
She pulled away before opening her right hand, forming a 'C' shape on her temple then moving it down and forwards, while closing, to rest it on the up-turned palm of her other hand; a sign for 'remember'. Clark understood her, nodded whilst giving a warm smile before she stepped back, allowing the other figure to step to him. He finally made eye contact with him before shoving the handle to an axe into Clark's chest. He looked down to it, before taking it in his own hands, watching as the figure stared him down. The two looked to each other for a moment, before the figure's harsh glare faded and gave a silent, acknowledging nod.
Clark's siblings had their own different ways of saying goodbye to him.
He watched as his brother and sister turned away, his sister more reluctantly than his brother but in time, they both stood in front of the crowd who was watching him leave. He walked to his chosen vehicle; a three-doored Peugeot 205 hatchback - a compact, low performing car. It was all the camp could spare. They had pumped the tires, given him a full tank of gasoline, half a fuel can of gasoline and he himself had even given it a brown paint job. He carefully opened the boot of the car, placing the axe next to the box of provisions he had been given before closing the boot as quietly as he could. Clark trailed around to the driver's side, looking back one final time to see what he was leaving.
The camp members stood in front of its high walls, built up from junk and wood that the pier they were built on provided. Those walls, standing so tall and slender seemed to belittle Clark's size, making him truly feel like he was locked out. He looked to his sister, to his brother, smiling at both of them before opening the driver's door, throwing his backpack to the passenger seat beside him. He breathed in sharply, rubbing his eyes - still waking up from his morning daze as he turned the keys in the ignition.
This was it, no going back now.
Slowly, the car pulled out from it's parked position, trailing from grass to a thin offroad path that began to sink into the surrounding trees. Behind him, the torch lights from the camp lessened more and more until they disappeared into the morning mist. It was definitely scary, travelling out of the comfort of your home, leaving what family you had left, all with the slim hope of safety, all the way on the other side of America. Those things would be out here, certain of it. More importantly, whatever strands of people still alive in the city was the more worrying party in this situation; he had never seen what they were like.
Despite all this, he never back turned around to look at the camp, gradually disappearing behind him.