Clementine…baby…if you can hear this, call the police. That's nine…one…one…we love you…we love you…we love y-
The dial tone was deafening, a hollow and horrible white noise. It intermingled with other empty sounds; a radio dial tuned to a dead station, rushing water overwhelming anything and everything save for a woman sobbing uncontrollably somewhere behind the chaos. It built slowly, swelling from a low hum to a violent crescendo that thundered in Amelia's ears and reverberated through her chest and as it peaked hit her right in the spine, hard enough to have her arching her back as she woke up, blinking in the cold and confused as to where she was. Wondering how a dream could actually make her feel like she was drowning in sound, suffocating while having plenty of air to breathe.
It had been a long time – years – since she'd relived the last time she'd ever heard her mother's voice. She'd been proud of herself for evading it for so long. But somewhere along the way her worst memories got clever and started sneaking up on her in her dreams.
She was awake; but now she had no choice. She'd already heard too much of it, already made eye contact with the Gorgon. She was knee-deep in the memory with nothing left to do but submerge herself completely, no matter how murky and toxic the water was. Suddenly she was dwelling on how afraid her parents must have been in their last moments, not for themselves but for her, and for Clementine. Brought to tears not because the city was going to hell around them but because their daughters were caught up in it, somewhere far away where things would happen to them that their parents would never know about.
Yeah. Been there, Mom.
Amelia let out a breath, a long one that turned to a smoker's plume as it collided with frigid morning air. She blinked in the sunlight. Heard a bird chip and realized she'd been allowed to sleep through the night; it was early, very early, but the sun was already up. She sat up to see who was on watch, first to know who to thank for the extra hours of rest and then to make sure they hadn't seen her writhing like a maniac in her sleep –
-ouch dammit-
-and only managed to sit up halfway before some restraint on her hair forced her head back down to the tarp.
Once again flat on her back, she slowly turned her head toward the only thing that could've been responsible. The source of heat and noise by her side – close by her side, she realized, closer than they'd been when the two of them went to sleep – taking up more than half of the tarp they shared with the way he insisted on lying diagonally, legs spread out like his lower body was in the middle of a snow angel. She'd kept her thoughts on it to herself for the night, given that the tarp wasn't hers. But complaining about it in her head? Fair game.
Nick, apparently, was a stomach-sleeper. He was face-down on the tarp, his arms folded into a pillow beneath his head and on top of her ponytail, effectively pinning it and her head to the ground.
Amelia huffed a sigh, blowing another burst of fog into the air. Come on, dude.
She gripped her ponytail in a tight fist, squeezing it so she wouldn't tear it out of her head as she pulled it out from under him. She sat up slowly, not because she was trying to be gentle but because it wouldn't give.
"Come on…" she whispered to herself, pushing against his shoulder in an effort to get him to roll. She was about to put a hand flat on his face and push when he frowned and wrinkled his nose, still asleep but just awake enough to know he was being disturbed. She gave him another push, and he rolled onto his back, then onto his side, grumbling something indecipherable and feeling around his head for pillows that weren't there.
Sitting up, she saw Alvin was on watch, set up with a rifle on one side of the camp while Carlos watched the other; everyone else was still asleep. She had a feeling she knew which of the two had let her sleep when he was supposed to come get her. She first wondered why, and wondered second whether she should bring it up, and decided to answer both questions later.
She twisted in her spot, stretching her back and deciding she'd go take his place now, give him the rest of the morning off to thank him and maybe take his watch tonight-
Oh my God.
Amelia froze, breathless as she watched a doe tread carefully over the ground, barely making any noise she could hear despite being twenty feet from their camp. She didn't dare move a muscle, as if she would scare it away if she released the breath she was holding. For all she knew, she would.
Finally, she started thinking clearly and dropped. Flat on her stomach, she eyed the doe in a military crawl, thinking every time it twitched an ear or flinched at the sound of a bird taking flight that it was about to run away, disappear forever.
She couldn't let that happen.
She looked over one shoulder, then the other to see if Alvin or Carlos had seen it. They both had their backs to her. She was the only one watching, staring in awe and finger-twitching excitement at a deer, grazing in a clearing with no idea how badly Amelia wanted to shoot it.
They had rules. No gunshots. No fires. Nothing that would leave a trail. They were running. They were being chased. She knew this.
They were also starving. The group had danced around the word for three days, trying to avoid saying it as if it would make it any less true. They'd run out of food the day before, and still had two straight days of travel with…what? Half a protein bar to share among nine people? Ten, if she counted Rebecca's baby, which would starve for as long as she did…and die much sooner than the rest of them. Luke had been trying to keep everyone's mind off of it, trying to remind them that dwelling and complaining about the problem wouldn't make the trip any easier. To an extent, Amelia agreed.
But Clementine and Sarah couldn't eat optimism.
She knew there wasn't much wildlife left in the forest – any forest. She knew she was left with squirrels and the occasional raccoon because large animals had been hunted near to extinction. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a deer. She had a chance. One that had fallen so perfectly into her lap she couldn't imagine not taking it. She couldn't pass it up because she already knew there wouldn't be another.
She thought about reaching for her pistol, and decided a hunting rifle would be a safer choice. She wanted something steady, powerful, something that would do a lethal amount of damage. Something that would make it harder to miss.
You've never shot one before.
She eyed Nick's rifle, left on the ground next to the tarp just on the other side of his body, and made a slow, cautious reach for it. She came up just short of it, able to touch it with her fingertips but not get her hand around it. She watched the deer, anxiously and silently begging it not to leave while leaned over him far enough to catch the gun by the stock, and pull it toward her.
As if his rifle was wired to some kind of internal alarm, Nick opened his eyes the moment she touched it, and to his credit, didn't react much. Not to the fact that she was trying to steal - borrow - something of his and not to the intimately small space between his face and hers. Her clumsy invasion of his personal space got only a wide-eyed look that matched hers, at first. Then skepticism. Half of a smirk.
He reached up and brushed her bangs from her forehead. "So you don't want to talk about it but you'll jump my-"
He stopped when Amelia put her free hand to his face, touching his jaw with a single index finger and turning his head to look at the deer. He let out a shuddering breath.
"Shit…" he muttered, so quietly Amelia almost didn't hear him.
Yeah. Shit.
She lifted the gun over him, staying low while she pointed the barrel at it and keeping in mind that any sudden movement would scare it away. On her stomach, she aimed up from the ground.
Shit. She didn't know where to aim. The neck would land her a guaranteed kill, but was a small target. Too small. She doubted her marksmanship with a gun she'd never held before would amount to much. She'd run the risk of missing completely. Sounding off a gunshot for nothing.
Nick rolled quietly, onto his stomach beside her. "Don't do that," he said.
She was already doing it. That much was decided. He had the chance to stop her – a chance she'd never meant to give him. He could alert the group, scare the deer away, wrench the gun from her hands. If he didn't do any of those things, if he didn't resort to using force, she was going to take the shot.
Still. It would have been nice if he supported it. It would have been nice to have one person who agreed with her, out of an entire group who she already knew didn't want her to do this.
She eyed the doe's neck in the crosshairs, trailing the center slowly down to the body, which she hoped would be easier to hit.
Damn it. She was shaking, and she hoped it had do with the weight of the gun or the awkward position she was in. Her view through the scope was jittering violently and she couldn't keep it on the deer for more than a second. Two if she was lucky.
Get it together.
"Don't do that," Nick repeated, quiet and impatient. "The scope's gonna hit you in the eye. Pick it up."
Amelia turned from looking down the sights to looking at him, so unprepared for what he said that she didn't understand him right away.
He put a hand under the gun and lifted slowly, keeping an eye on the deer while he raised the rifle and Amelia rose with it until she sat up straight. "There…" Amelia put a foot flat on the tarp and stabilized herself on one knee. "Line it up…stock goes in your shoulder...like that." She felt a hand on her lower back, another on her knee, turning her slightly and keeping her steady.
The view through the scope was still, and only moved in time with her breathing. Staring at the deer, watching it graze with its back to the two of them, she felt a weight on the gun, heard a click, and realized Nick had switched off the safety for her.
And just like that, the gun started shaking again. Her hands were weak, wet, useless. She had seconds to shoot before the deer turned around and saw her. It didn't even need to see her; it could hear a noise and take off without a reason. She had to shoot now but she couldn't get the gun to hold still-
"Amelia." Her heart started beating harder, pounding away in her chest when she realized the voice wasn't Nick's. It was deeper and more severe and very displeased with her. Carlos kept his voice low and his warning quiet, for a reason she didn't understand. She imagined it was less to avoid scaring the deer away and more to avoid scaring her. "Put the gun down. Now."
The doe perked its ears up, sat up and started looking around. It was twitchy. Nervous. Amelia knew what it looked like when something was about to cut and run; she'd done it herself, many times. Others in the group stirred. A group full of light sleepers, sitting up and aware that something wasn't right. She could tell by the voices who was up.
Luke said something careful, and calming, like she was about to step off a rooftop and he was trying to talk her down. Sarah asked her father a question. Clementine called Amelia by name. She'd already been running out of time, and now they were about to throw away what little she had left.
The doe turned around, looked straight at her and froze. It stared down the barrel and didn't move, just like Amelia had more than once in her life.
Make your choice.
Do it now or let it go.
But she couldn't let it go, not without thinking of Dad, I'm hungry when can we eat again and Clementine's don't worry, I'm okay while she tried to hide the sound of her stomach growling. Her finger curled up against the trigger, but hesitated to pull it. Carlos warned her again, his voice louder this time, resorting to yelling at her, to scaring away the deer so she wouldn't have any reason to fire the gun. It jumped at the sound of his voice, hunched on bent legs and ready to sprint-
-it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission-
-so Amelia pulled the trigger before it could.
The shot was deafening. An explosion of sound in a silent forest, with an echo just as loud. Immediate pain in her shoulder, a violent and sudden jerk that threw it back farther than it was supposed to go. She released the gun with one hand, dropping the barrel onto the ground, and held her shoulder as she stood up to watch; she saw a flash of red and heard the deer cry out, a pathetic, heart-wrenching whine, followed by the sound of its hooves beating the ground as it ran. It moved clumsily, stumbling and frantic as it fell to the ground, struggled back to its feet, and took off into the trees.
In the renewed silence, Amelia let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She hit it. She actually fucking hit it.
But she didn't kill it. Which meant she had to move.
She was on her feet, aware that people were talking to her, angry with her, and knowing it was a bridge she'd cross later. She reached into her backpack and found her handgun, and kept Nick's rifle, having decided both would come with her. The deer had gone running, but not at a pace too fast for her to catch. All she had to do was follow it, and come back with food, and the group would move out before anyone followed the gunshot to their camp. No harm done.
No harm done.
Repeat it as often as you want. Doesn't make it true.
Carlos was silent. Amelia was reminded again that it was worse than hearing him yell. Quiet anger spoke volumes more than screaming.
"Do you have any idea what you've just done?" his words were low, and grave as she made her way toward the trees. She couldn't run in the opposite direction like she wanted. She had to walk toward them to follow the deer. Had to go right through them and answer for what she did.
Luke shook his head, angry and confused and trying to react to everything that had happened around him within seconds of waking up.
"That gunshot will draw everyone around here, for miles! Amelia, what were you thinking?"
She stopped and put Nick's gun on the ground just long enough to strap Hilda to her back. Later she would explain and apologize and face consequences, but at the moment she had a window, a small one that was rapidly closing.
"I have to go," she said, pulling the strap to keep her ice pick in place. "The blood is going to draw lurkers…" She stuttered for a moment, confused at her own choice of words before she decided to move on. "If they get to it before I do, we can't eat it-" She needed a bag. Something to carry the meat back…
Fuck it. Use the backpack.
More voices, belonging to people Amelia had just woken up. They didn't know what was happening yet. Didn't know how angry they were about to be. Amelia recognized Clementine's voice somewhere in the mix, telling her to wait, to please stop for a minute.
Rebecca spoke to Alvin from her sleeping bag, alarmed and looking for the source of the gunshot that had jarred her awake. "Alvin, what…?" Sarah clung to her dad, asked him what was going to happen now while Pete had lunged from his tarp and reached for his rifle. He chambered a round in one smooth, automatic motion before looking around and realizing there were no intruders, nothing and no one to shoot.
"What in the hell is goin' on? Is someone gonna tell me who's shootin' off like we're at the goddamn range?"
"Amelia shot a deer," Sarah answered him anxiously. "Dad?"
"We'll talk later," Amelia said to Luke, picking up Nick's rifle and stepping around him.
"Hold on-"
She spoke to him over her shoulder as she walked, settling for a severe understatement of what she wanted to say. "I know. This was bad. But if you don't want it to be for nothing, I have to go after it now,"
Another voice called out to her, one that was close behind her, and gaining on her. She hoped he wasn't coming to stop her, and knew from the second she heard it that he wasn't.
"Wait," Nick said, coming to a stop with a hand out. He nodded to his gun. "Give me that,"
Amelia shook her head. "I need it. Not for long, just-"
"Give it to me. I'll cover you out there."
He took it from her and turned to Luke, who was equally upset with him for a host of reasons.
"You were right there, Nick! Why didn't you stop her?"
Nick's answer was fast. It was a question he'd been ready for. "We're fucking starving out here,"
"We're out here for a reason! What's the point of runnin' from-"
"What did you think we were gonna do for three more days? We're out of food, Luke, what were you gonna do about it?"
"I am trying to keep everyone safe!"
"If we keep going like this, we'll all drop dead before we make it to the mountains-"
Amelia moved for the trees. She didn't mean to cause this. Didn't mean to wake everyone up in a panic, didn't mean to start a heated fight between best friends.
She found herself stopping in front of Carlos and Pete, just short of the trees. This wasn't the first time the three of them had had a discussion like this. She hoped it would be the last before realizing that it would be up to her.
Stop fucking up and they'll stop yelling at you.
She looked between the both of them. "It's already done, and I'm sorry. But we don't have much time to catch it."
Sarah tugged at Carlos' shirt. "Dad, is the deer going to be okay?" He quieted her, holding up a hand and regarding Amelia with a stoic, unreadable face.
"Go now. Return quickly. We will talk about this when you do."
She nodded. I'm already gone.
Luke spoke up from behind her. "You're just gonna let her go? Alone? What if she runs into people on the way? What if people find us here before-"
"Then you don't need to be here when I get back," she said, backing into the woods to get out her last few words before disappearing. "Move if you have to. I'll find you."
She knew how fast walkers would form a horde when they smelled blood. She knew it would be a long time before they found something to eat again. She knew how quickly malnourished babies died after they were born. These were the thoughts that drove her into the forest, breaking into a run with little more than an "I'm sorry" thrown over her shoulder to the group she'd just put in danger.
A minute into the forest, she heard Nick call out something behind her. She didn't slow down.
She pushed branches from her face and tried to stay upright on uneven ground as she ran. Her list of skills was random, and short. She could name most of the elements on the periodic table and could hold her liquor well enough. She wasn't the best at conversation or fishing or driving a stick shift. Her spelling was impressive. Her cooking skills were not.
But she was fast. This deer wasn't about to outrun her, she told herself. Not with a bullet in its ribcage.
She followed the trail it left behind, looking for wide, messy tracks dashed into the dirt, and skidded to a stop only when they started to fade. She looked this way and that, breathing hard and deep while trying to decide which way to go. The doe could have gone anywhere.
Think.
Nick slowed to a stop behind her, his footfalls heavy and labored. He hunched, hands on his knees and his gun strapped to his back.
"Jesus…" he breathed. "Did you…did you hear me? I said…" A deep breath. A cough. "…told you to wait up…"
Use your head. Where did it go?
The tracks had faded, which meant it slowed down. Because it couldn't run any further. Which meant it couldn't be far, and was likely already dead.
Amelia scanned the area around them, looking over tree roots and bushes for-
Blood. It was hard to spot. Only there to people who were looking for it. But it was there, dripping crimson over the dark green leaves of some plant Amelia couldn't name.
"This way," she said, gesturing for him to follow her without looking to make sure he was.
He trailed behind her and said "hey" twice, before closing the gap between them and catching her by the arm from behind. She whirled, looking him up and down and wondering what could be so important it was worth stalling her – stalling the two of them – getting back to the group.
"What?"
"It's okay if we don't find it."
She shook her head. "It's not. It's really not." She pulled her arm free – easily, because like always he was gentle and willing to keep his hands to himself when she didn't want to be touched – and kept walking.
It had to be here. It had to be. She couldn't go back to the group empty-handed. She broke the one rule they had, broadcasted a signal of their exact location, and it couldn't be for nothing.
What would she do if it was? Her first thought was to leave. Take off running into the trees and try to find her way back to the small towns in the foothills. Her second was that she couldn't do it without Clem. She'd have to come with her.
Clementine wouldn't have that.
Which only left her with one choice. She walked deeper into the woods, snapping twigs and breaking pinecones under her shoes and ignoring Nick's attempts to speak to her, hoping he would think it was because she was preoccupied. Hoping he wouldn't guess it was because he scared her, in a way, and because she worried he would try again to ask her questions she didn't know how to answer.
She heard the sound of a wounded animal loudly struggling to breathe – a sound that she was ashamed to say thrilled her, given the circumstances – and followed it to find the doe collapsed at the base of a tree. Its fur was stained by a large red splotch that ranged from its neck to its ribs, darkest near the center where the bullet had gone in and blood continued to gush out. Its breathing was heavy and uneven, and its breath fogged up the morning air in front of its nose in thin, weak clouds.
And she stood there, realizing she'd been so intent on finding it that she hadn't planned any further than that. Now that she had it, she found herself turning to Nick, to decide what to do with it.
He caught up with her, and gave her a look she didn't understand. Maybe he wasn't an open book. At least not all the time.
He waved a hand to the deer. "Well?"
She frowned, searching his face for something that would give away his thoughts. He didn't look confused. He looked like he was expecting something. From her.
"I've never skinned an animal." She said. "A big one, I mean."
He crossed his arms. His face didn't change. If he'd been waiting for something, that wasn't it.
She shook her head, impatient. "Can you just…? Pete made it sound like he taught you how to hunt. You…know how to do this?"
Nick looked from her to the deer, then back. She finally saw something change – his face softened and he looked like he was biting the inside of his bottom lip – and from the way it disappeared when he looked back to her, the soft expression hadn't been for her.
"Kill it first."
"I-" I did. Then she realized what he meant. "I mean…don't you know the best way to…" She trailed off, hoping he would see what she wanted and make it easy for her. Take the ice pick from her and do it.
"You shot it. You finish it. It's how it goes."
She didn't know what to say to that. It was one thing if he didn't want to do it, but that didn't seem to be the case. His dismissive shrug and his refusal to look at the deer on the ground left her staring at him and trying to understand. He finally met her eyes, looking at her with the reluctant defiance of someone who didn't make the rules and didn't always want to follow them...but respected them enough to do it regardless.
"What difference does it make?"
"It's just how it goes. You hurt something, it's your job to end its suffering. No one else's. You're responsible for it."
Oh. Now she got it. Didn't agree with it, but she understood it.
"…did Pete teach you that?"
He nodded. He didn't seem interested in talking much. Maybe because he suspected that Amelia might try to talk him into doing her job for her. She'd have been offended, if he hadn't been right. She thought about saying please, to try being direct and asking nicely for once-
He's not going to do it for you just because he likes you.
Who even says he likes you?
She stepped back, crouching by the deer and her backpack on the ground. She unstrapped her climbing axe and poured half of her bottle of water over the blade, dragging it across the grass to wipe it clean.
The deer whined as she stood over it, its breathing becoming shallow and ragged and…sad.
She would have avoided it if she could have. Killing and causing pain was a necessary evil of her new life. An unfortunate side effect that some suffered from more than others. Just do it. The longer you put it off the more it suffers.
She raised the axe, muttered an apology under her breath, and put it firmly in the deer's neck, then dragged. Blood flowed from its open throat, soaking into the dirt, pooling on the ground, creating red mud and giving off a sharp metallic smell. The deer went silent and motionless, and Amelia turned away. She didn't want to see anymore, and saw Nick had done the same.
After a long few seconds, he turned back. Arms still crossed defensively, though what he felt defensive toward, she didn't know. Was it her?
It was done. She didn't feel the need to say it, so she waited. Nick knew what to do, she hoped. Pete certainly did, and must have taught him at some point. She didn't want to ask again. Didn't want to push anyone more than she already had, least of all him. So she waited until he crossed to the deer; she stepped aside and handed over her ice pick when he did.
Nick cut into it, starting at its stomach and pulling the axe all the way up through its ribcage. Amelia took a seat on the ground and watched him from behind when she realized it wasn't going to be as fast and easy as she imagined. He blocked most of what she could see, but over his shoulder she caught glimpses of entrails, a red mess of organs and muck that he pushed aside with his hands. She wondered why he wasn't cringing at the gore of what he was doing and remembered that it was probably nothing compared to watching her do the same to a human corpse.
She remembered something Clementine said to her, and wished she hadn't.
"…thanks."
"Mhm." He muttered over his shoulder. She'd have guessed that he wasn't interested in what she had to say so much as in what he was doing. But he didn't seem interested in that either. She didn't blame him for wanting it to be over.
This didn't seem like the time. But in her opinion, there never would be a right time to talk about things that made her nervous. There was always a reason to put it off, to say she'd do it later while knowing deep down that she never would. Yes, Nick had his hands in the carcass of an animal she'd just killed, but they were alone. They had privacy, and quiet, and weren't in danger. What would happen if she did something despite being afraid, just this once?
"It was nice," she said quietly, and did not elaborate.
Nick's hands went still. Then started moving again. He picked up Hilda again, smearing blood all the way down the handle, and used it to cut into something Amelia couldn't see.
"'Nice.'" He repeated. Paused. Then nodded. "I'll, uh…I'll take that."
They fell into a long silence. Amelia started counting to pass the time. She'd gotten to thirty-one when Nick finally looked at her over his shoulder.
"Was it-" He cut himself off and turned back. Took another second to think, then looked at her again. "Anything else?"
That was too hard of a question. Not because she didn't have an answer but because of what the answers were, and the fact that she would have to voice them out loud. It had been a lot of things. A long list of words, every single one of them good. Every one of them gave her a warm feeling and brought a smile to her face, and he'd have had to put a gun to her head to get her to say them.
Nick cleared this throat, loudly, and seemed to be trying to talk when he didn't have anything to say yet. "Uh- you know, I just meant…anything else you wanted to say…at all?" Another silence when Amelia didn't offer an answer. She sat cross-legged, and ran her hands over her knees. Noticed a new hole in the knee of her jeans. Tugged the collar of her shirt down over her shoulder and poked at the bruise. It was starting to turn purple. "That's what I meant."
She wasn't sure it was.
There was more to say, there would always be more to say. But she decided to go with what couldn't be avoided, even by her.
"You didn't…" she shook her head. She wanted him to hear it more than she didn't want to say it. "…push too hard."
"I-" Nick seemed to have something to say right away, then changed his mind. "Good."
Good.
He held a hand out behind him without looking. "Bag." She took her water from her backpack, which left it empty, and tossed it to him. She'd figured it a better use for it than what she'd been doing with it. He started filling with large cuts of meat by the handful, and Amelia stood behind him, knowing she wasn't being much help but unsure of what to do. She gathered that their conversation was over, and was more than okay with it. It didn't mean she didn't like him. She recognized the paradox of enjoying his company without wanting to talk to him; something that would've been hard to explain to anyone other than him.
He zipped the bag shut and stood up when it was finished, his hands covered in blood that reached his forearms. She saw him contemplate wiping it on his shirt – the last clean one he had – and decide not to, which left him standing with his arms bent like a surgeon who'd just scrubbed into the OR.
She found something about it funny, and almost smiled. She uncapped her water bottle and told him to hold his hands out.
He shook his head. "Don't waste it,"
"I'll be fine until tomorrow." Waiting until Luke passed out the next round of water rations the following morning wasn't going to be hard to do. If she got desperate, she could share with Clementine.
Or just ask Luke for more, because you know he'd probably give it to you anyway.
He considered it, looking down at his hands again and wrinkling his nose at the smell. He held them out so Amelia could pour the water over his forearms, down to his wrists and over his hands. He scrubbed them together furiously, trying to get clean before Amelia ran out, she assumed. There wasn't much left by the time he was. She still appreciated the thought.
"Thanks." He muttered, flinging the excess water from his hands.
"Yep."
She found herself watching him, drying his palms on the front of his pants, adjusting his hat, and noted that she wasn't standing far from him. She could kiss him from here. She'd have to stand up on her toes to reach him, but she could. He was right there.
She wondered how he'd react if she did.
Why not just do it? She didn't have an answer right away. Hadn't that been what the night in the shed – the three hours they killed together – was about? Giving in to something they wanted without being afraid of what might happen after?
But not caring about consequences wouldn't eradicate them. They would still be there, coming to hit her like a train after she did something she couldn't take back. For a brief second, she was honest with herself, and admitted that she wanted to kiss him again. But she wouldn't be able to do it without reminding herself that what she knew would destroy him if he ever found out.
She shouldered the bag, now surprisingly heavy, and he slipped his hand under the strap before she could. He took it from her, mumbling something along the lines of, "Here, let me…" and handed her ice pick back to her.
They returned to the camp quickly, and in silence.
They came back to find a camp full of people ready to move. Sleeping bags were rolled, supplies were packed. Bags were on shoulders, guns were loaded. They stepped back into the clearing stopping just past the tree line, and had everyone's attention immediately. Carlos spotted them at a distance and turned to give directions to the others. Luke came over to meet them, Clementine trailing behind him, this time without a smile.
"You two, uh…" he paused as the approached them. "You alright?"
Amelia let Nick answer. After a pause, he nodded. "Yeah. Fine. We got it."
"That's…good," Luke said with no small amount of uncertainty, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the group. "Then let's go. Carlos really wants us outta here, now."
"Yeah, just…" Nick turned to Amelia and let the bag fall from his shoulder. "I have to check on Pete,"
She nodded, and took it from him before he left. Luke fell into step beside him, asking,
"So everything went smoothly out there?"
"Yeah, it was hard to find for a while, but…"
Their voices faded with distance, leaving Amelia with her sister.
Clementine crossed her arms, avoiding eye contact and, for the first time Amelia had seen in a while, looking nervous.
"Clem?"
Her eyes ran warily over the bag on Amelia's shoulder. "Is that…is that it?"
She took a long, exhausted breath and nodded. Leaned back against a tree trunk. "Yeah. We'll find a place to cook it somewhere down the road."
Clementine shifted, arms still crossed. She clearly had something to say. But Amelia knew from experience that if Clem didn't want to say it, nothing Amelia could say or do would pry it out of her.
"You think it was a mistake." Amelia guessed.
"No…"
"So…you're glad I did it."
"No."
That was it. She was conflicted. Frustrated with it. Hungry and trying to stay impartial between her sister and her new group, two parties who always seemed to be at odds thanks to one person in particular.
Right there with you, Clem. Was it possible to be glad she did it and at the same time wish she hadn't?
"Clem, I just…" Amelia sighed, threw her hands out, tossed a glance back into the forest behind her. "I tried to make the right choice."
"I wish you hadn't run off by yourself like that," she said. "Something could've happened."
"Add it to the list," she muttered. There was plenty she had to answer for when the group made their next stop. When they were finished fleeing the scene of her last decision, there was going to be a talk. A long one. Maybe a loud one. She wasn't looking forward to it, and at the same time couldn't wait. She wanted it to be over and done.
That, and she wanted to explain herself. A chance to convince these people that she could still be trusted. This is, if they ever trusted her in the first place.
"I tried. You asked me to try, and I am. Really."
"I know." Clem said carefully. "I think they know you're trying, too. I'm just worried…it won't be enough."
Damn it. Amelia had recognized the anxiety on her sister's face from a mile away; it was easier to spot than to understand its cause, and suddenly it hit her like a punch in the nose.
"Are you worried they won't let us stay after this?"
"No…" Clem's eyes trailed out to the group. "No, I don't…think they'll…you know, kick us out…"
Amelia knew what it sounded like when Clementine was certain of something. This wasn't it. Amelia hesitated, unsure that words would be worth anything now. She knew Clementine would rather see her fix this than be told about it.
"Just wait. For the day. I'll talk to them. Okay? I'll fix…Clem?"
Her sister's hand caught her by the arm and her face changed in an instant, something that, in itself, struck Amelia cold and made her heartbeat pick up. Clem's eyes were wide and her mouth was open like she was about to say something, and either couldn't get the words out or decided not to. Both were equally bad signs. Amelia knew there was something behind her before she looked, and she turned around with thoughts of walkers and wild animals and found herself nearly up against a man who'd come out of the trees. Another followed, and came to a stop behind him.
Amelia put an arm out to keep Clementine behind her. She took a panicked step back and gave Clem a push, harder than she had ever pushed her sister or any child in her life; Clem stumbled away, and had to catch herself with two hands on the ground before standing back up.
"Amelia," she said, objecting quietly but keeping her distance. "Don't-"
Amelia ran her eyes over the strangers within arm's reach of her – or rather she was within arm's reach of them – looking for weapons, and she found them easily. The one closest to her had a handgun in his belt. The one behind him, the taller of the two, carried a shotgun. If he shot her at this range he could put a hole in her chest the size of a basketball don't panic don't panic don't panic
They looked prepared for the cold, all long sleeves and scarves and beanie hats. They looked like they'd been out here for a while, and the winter boots and heavy backpacks said they planned to stay. She tried to notice things about them, and couldn't find much. She couldn't tell what kind of frames they had under their snow jackets, any facial features she might have spotted were obscured by the scarves that covered half of their faces. They were tall and broad, but otherwise anonymous and forgettable. She was sure it wasn't an accident.
Amelia forced herself not to reach for her handgun. She fixated on it, her only lifeline left after Nick had walked away with his rifle. If her life was in danger, it was the only thing she had that would save her. Reaching for it too soon was also the fastest way to get these men to shoot her in the head.
They're probably going to do it anyway, idiot.
She expected them to. She expected them to move, to speak, to do something, and they didn't. The man in front of her looked over her shoulder, swept his gaze silently across the group behind her, then pulled his scarf down to his neck to reveal chapped lips and a scraggly, tangled mess of a beard.
"Hey, there."
Amelia could hear footsteps behind her, members of her group coming closer, but didn't dare to look. If it was Clementine, she was ready to push her again.
"Sorry if we scared you," he said, a half-smirk on his face suggesting he was trying not to smile more than he was. "Didn't mean any harm, sweetheart."
How did she let this happen? She turned her back to the forest for too long; long enough that she didn't see them until they were right behind her, close enough to grab her or stab her or break her neck. She never did that. Ever. It was a rule, something that came as naturally as breathing now. Watch where your back is facing, always. How did she fuck this up?
The group had you feeling too safe. You let your guard down because you didn't think anything could touch you with them around.
If she didn't die here, she'd take the lesson with her.
The man looked past her, swept his eyes over the tense postures and cautious faces of the group. "Hey, folks. Looks like we caught you moving out." He stuck a hand out, and Amelia had to force herself not to flinch when he did. "Del." He jerked his head toward his friend. "This is Louis."
She didn't reach for it. Didn't want to touch him. Didn't want to be anywhere near either of them but here she was.
"You gonna…give us your name? Or anyone's?" He got silence for an answer and turned to his friend with a grin. A small laugh. "Guess not."
Her back stiffened, reminding her of the handgun tucked into her waist, the grip hard against her spine. Her eyes darted between the two of them, watching their hands more than their faces and she couldn't take being this close. It was too dangerous. Too easy for them to do something she wouldn't be able to stop.
She slowly, took a cautious step back. The moment her foot touched grass behind her Del's hand shot out and caught her just above the elbow and he flashed an oil-slick grin, a smile made of grime and razor blades. "Woah, hold on, there,"
Alarms bells hot adrenaline in her veins ice in the pit of her stomach get away
She heard several people behind her step forward, faster now, louder. She didn't see because she refused to take her eyes off of the man in front of her, knowing that looking away would be a mistake that could kill her. Nick said something, Pete raised his voice and gave them a warning she didn't understand because she wasn't listening. All she could hear was the constant and panicked stream of words her thoughts had become.
Don't make them mad or they'll shoot someone.
Don't say anything because they'll take it to mean what they want it to mean.
Don't turn your back or they'll take your gun.
"Alright, hey," Del took his hand back and held it up in the universal sign of surrender. Just the one. The other stayed at his side, a thumb hooked into his belt and within grabbing distance of of his gun. "Everyone relax, I'm just sayin' there's no need to back up. We're all friends, here, right?"
Was that what he called it?
Friends. The word echoed in her head, its irony bottlenecking her thoughts and making her want to hit someone, making her regret treating her new group like strangers for all this time; it had been so long since she interacted with a real stranger she'd forgotten what it looked like. Pete, Luke, Alvin, Carlos, Rebecca, Sarah were not strangers. Nick wasn't a stranger. They were her friends. They shared water with her and treated her sister with kindness and watched her back at night while she slept. This was what a stranger looked like. She focused on his face, trying to keep her head through the haze of adrenaline, her heart pounding so hard she was getting lightheaded and remembered this is what strangers made her feel like.
Del put a hand to his chest, a gesture of sincerity that was insulting in its transparency. "I apologize. Alright?" Another grin spread over his face, slow like honey from broken jar. "Everyone's good here, right?"
Back away slowly.
Would he grab her again if she did? Or shoot her?
He threw a sideways look to his friend when she didn't respond. "She's not much of a talker, is she?"
Louis shrugged, and shook his head without a smile. He looked bored. "Guess not."
Amelia heard a voice speak up behind her, and turned just enough to see Luke in her peripheral, standing in front of Clementine with an arm out to keep her there.
"We…get nervous around strangers." He watched them carefully. His brow was creased and his jaw was set. He looked angry, she realized, and couldn't remember the last thing to make him angry that wasn't her. He had a hand on the gun at his hip, and she could tell how hard he was trying not to pull it. He knew as well as everyone that this could be escalated in a second, with nothing more than a flinch. "Sure you understand."
"I do, my friend," Del said, shaking his head at the unfortunate truth of their new world. Damn shame. "Absolutely do."
"Then…how about she just comes over here with me?"
Del inhaled through his teeth, a cheeky glint in his eyes. "Can't do that, unfortunately." He didn't explain, and once again Amelia had to stop herself from reaching for the gun they still hadn't checked her for.
Not the right time. You'll only get one chance.
She heard Nick's voice next, and could see from where she was that he had his rifle pointed at the ground, in their direction. A warning more than a threat. A subtle tilt upwards and he'd be aiming at their heads.
"It wasn't a question."
"Relax, no one here has to get hurt-"
"I disagree. I think someone's gonna get hurt here real fast."
The reckless, cocky part of Amelia's mind wanted her to smile. To look into his eyes and dare him to touch her again because she had backup this time. Maybe he would. Maybe he'd kill her. She had friends who would be happy to blow a hole in his head if he did.
She looked back to Del and settled for raising an eyebrow.
Maybe you should listen to him.
He caught it, to his credit. He didn't look or sound like it, but there was a cleverness in his eyes, somewhere. He was paying attention, unlike his friend. Louis looked like he'd rather have been anywhere than here. Like he was waiting for something, and getting tired of it. At least she knew which one she had to watch.
Del looked over Amelia's head, and raised his voice to address everyone as a group.
"Gentleman, gentleman, I see your guns. There's no need to get so hostile."
Somewhere behind Amelia, Pete chambered a round in his gun. The metallic shift of the action was heavy and loud and as much of a threat as he needed to make. "We'd be more up to talkin' if you didn't have a hostage."
Del's eyes trailed down to Pete's lower body, and he whistled at the red-stained bandage closing off his missing limb.
"Woah, sir! That looks fresh. The hell happened to you?"
"Take a step back, son."
Go ahead. Fuck with him. Amelia would have paid to see this backwoods fuckwit, with his sleezy face and cocky grin, try to handle Pete. You're poking a bear you don't want to wake up.
"Don't want to talk about it. Alright," he said, in a tone he might have thought was pleasant. But Amelia learned a long time ago that nothing was more disturbing than a person trying to act pleasant while they had a horror show going on inside their head. He chuckled. "No hostages, sir. Not sure why you'd think that. Do you feel like a hostage, sweetheart?"
No answer. Just a glare and the expression of a girl questioning the choices she'd made to get herself here.
"Right," he said, more to his friend than to her. "This one doesn't talk. Forgot." His friend answered with an apathetic nod. Turned his head and spit into the grass. "She's not a hostage," he said to her group, chuckling at the statement like it was a joke Pete had meant to make. Good one. "Just a, uh…person of interest."
Amelia didn't know what that meant, and hated the way it sounded. She glanced to Louis, who still wasn't paying much attention beyond the occasional nod. He looked lazy and dull, and his gun was heavy, which meant he'd be slow to draw. Hopefully.
"Look, fellas, my friend and I were just passing through. We're out scouting for our group, and you wouldn't believe what we found out in the forest, not too far from here."
Amelia shook her head slightly, not about to ask a question she knew the answer to. She could see where they were going with this, and nothing she could've said could direct them away from it.
Del's eyes slid easily down to the backpack, then back up. "What's in the bag? Wouldn't be that deer…" he pointed over his shoulder without looking, a lazy one-armed wave. "…we found slaughtered a quarter mile out, would it?"
She didn't tell them no because they already knew the answer was yes. There wouldn't have been any point.
If this was what they wanted, then they could have it. Anything to get them to leave.
You really think that's all they want?
She tried again to take a step back, and as she shifted to move Del's hand went slowly, casually to the gun on his belt. It was nonchalant, like he was trying to pretend it had nothing to do with the fact that she'd just moved.
Fucker.
Without warning, Nick raised his gun. He was staring at them down the sights and Pete and Luke simultaneously pulled theirs as well. They didn't look like they wanted to, but they couldn't leave Nick the only one with a weapon out. There were rules to this game they were playing. This game where no one wins. Russian roulette with six loaded chambers.
Del drew his gun as quickly as they did, holding it at arm's length and pointing it straight at Luke. "Hey, heyheyheyhey! Easy! Why'd you have to go and do that?" Louis' shotgun was up, sweeping across each of them in turn. Over Nick, Luke and Clementine, Pete…and Amelia, at point-blank range.
"We're having a nice conversation. She's polite. I'm polite." Del asked Louis without looking at him and without waiting for an answer. "Aren't we having a nice talk? And now, you start reaching for guns, and we gotta do it this way."
Amelia tried to move again. She wanted to draw her gun, which by dumb luck they still didn't know she had. She would need distance for that. She couldn't do anything a foot and a half away from...
"Easy, kitty cat." Del put his gun on her, effectively freezing her where she stood. "Show us what's in the bag."
"You know what's in the bag."
"I appreciate the honesty. How about you give it here?"
"The rest of the deer is still out there. It's all yours."
"Ah. Can't do that, see, 'cause the crawlers already got to it. Meat's bad now. Afraid you've got the only good stuff."
Then take it. She slipped it from her shoulders and held it out. If she'd been willing to risk her life to give him a middle finger, she'd have dropped it on the ground and let him pick it up.
"Thank you for being so agreeable," he said with a slow nod and a rattlesnake grin. He found something funny. Amelia didn't want to know what.
Clementine spoke from somewhere behind Luke, leaning out to see past him. "Don't hurt her."
No.
"Just take the bag and go."
Clem, stop. Luke shared her thoughts, and put a hand to her shoulder.
"Clem-"
He turned to look for her, looking for the source of Clem's small voice and Amelia spoke suddenly, and loudly. "There's more than enough for the two of you." She didn't know what she was saying, didn't care. She didn't want this man's attention anywhere near Clementine. "That's all we have. So take it."
It didn't work. He'd already seen her and no amount of useless chatter could make him un-see her. "Look at that," he said. As if he knew that where there was one kid there was likely another, he looked out across the rest of the group until he spotted Sarah, hiding behind Carlos. He looked back to Amelia.
"You can go, now." She said, on-edge, impatient. "You have what you asked for." Just leave.
"Cute kids. You watching 'em close?"
Amelia lowered her voice. "What does that mean?"
"It means maybe your friends should give me their backpacks, too. Wouldn't want anything to happen to them, you know?"
Shouldn't have said that.
Amelia closed her eyes and tilted her head, cracking her neck loudly. Stay calm, not yet, she would have given him the backpacks but you really shouldn't have said that.
Louis suddenly seemed interested. He lowered his gun just a bit, seemed to straighten up and grow a smile of his own.
"I think you made her mad, Del."
"I think I did. You alright, sweetheart? No need to get worked up." He reached toward her head, like he was about to touch her face or her hair and the idea almost drove her to let him do it just so she could bite his fingers, crush them between her teeth with every intention of tearing them from his hand.
Fast and malicious, she slapped it away hard, volatile anger blooming in her chest at a rate faster than she knew what to do with. He was just fucking with her now. Taunting her, pulling her back and forth, trying to confuse her. It wasn't working the way he wanted it to; it was only pissing her off. Maybe that was what he wanted.
He drew his hand back when she hit it, curling his fingers and smiling to his friend. "We did make her mad."
"Look, you know how this is gonna go. I don't want to shoot anyone. I don't. Your friends over there seem real nice." He said this with his gun still trained at them, waving it around carelessly, which she thought was intentional. A twitch of his finger would have had Nick bleeding out on the ground. Luke crippled from the waist down. Pete's other kneecap blown off.
A hole in Clementine's head.
"You got the short end. It sucks. I feel for you, sweetheart, I really do. But you're all gonna drop your stuff, and pass it over here. Alright, boys?"
No one moved, and he pointed his gun straight up into the air and fired a warning shot. The bang cracked throughout the clearing, tearing through the otherwise silent field and startling birds settled into the trees around them.
"Come on, guys," he grinned, arms out. "I know y'all heard me."
Luke was the first to comply, slipping his backpack from his shoulders and switching his gun from one hand to the other to avoid taking it off of them. He tossed it to their feet, starting a pile that the other bags in the group soon joined. Nick did the same, as did Alvin. Carlos took Sarah's backpack for her and passed it to Pete, who threw it to the two men with a scowl and a glare.
"That's it," Del said as the stolen supplies piled up in front of him. "Not so hard, right?" Back to Amelia. "Where's yours, sweetheart? This all you got?"
"That was it."
"Need me to check?"
Her face burned and she moved her hands to her hips, trying to get them closer to her gun, sick to her stomach and trying not to do the wrong thing at the wrong time.
Not yet.
"I said that was it. Take it and leave."
"You sure?" he stepped forward, and Amelia matched it with a step back. "'Cause I really feel like you're holding out on me…"
Her sister's voice came out of nowhere, and made her more afraid than anything Del had said or done so far. "Leave her alone."
"Clementine, shut up," Amelia snapped, in what was easily the harshest tone she'd ever used with her sister.
But it was too late. Clem had his attention, and Amelia saw from the second he turned away that she wouldn't be able to pull it back. Suddenly everything she heard was a blur, a messy amalgamation of Del asking questions as he walked toward them, Luke giving a warning and tightening his grip on his gun.
You know what's happening. They have everything you own and they're still here. They want more and you don't have anything left to give.
Amelia's train of thought was braking at full speed, sparks flying off of red-hot rails, her inner voice of reason silenced by a horrible, panicked sound, a sound like gravel in a blender that she'd give anything, anything to stop. Del turned his back and Louis still had his gun aimed at the ground, his gun that was heavy and slow to lift
-do it now-
She bet she could draw faster than he could, and she was right.
The gun was out of her jeans and in her outstretched hands before Louis saw. By the time he did it was too late; he lifted his shotgun just a bit, nowhere near enough before Amelia got his head in the sights. Red mist. A black hole between his eyes. His gun hit the ground before he did.
Del was her bigger problem. He whirled when he heard the shot, gun in hand, and she aimed for his head, she tried, but ended up putting it in his shoulder and knocking him to the ground in front of Luke and Clementine. Luke grabbed Clem by the arm and pulled her back, dragging her away from the man on the ground because he was still kicking, still reaching for the gun that had flown out of his hand and landed in the grass a few feet away.
Amelia caught up to him, still riding the adrenaline rush he'd given her, keeping in mind that hesitating now would be the fastest way to die. She started this. She had to finish it before he finished it for her. He crawled on his back, inching over the ground and reaching out for his gun. He got his hand around it seconds before Amelia was standing over him, and as he raised it to her she threw an arm across her body and lashed out in a full-armed sweep, backhanding the gun from his grip.
He moved fast. Faster than she thought he'd be. He didn't spend any time reaching for the gun and instead reached for his own ankle. Amelia caught sunlight glinting from something reflective and was too slow to see the knife until he slashed her across her lower leg. She hunched and screamed through gritted teeth, kicking him in the forearm and then stepping on it; his hand sprawled open like a dead spider on its back. She pointed her gun in his face and leaned her weight onto the foot crushing his wrist into the ground.
"Wait, wait, wait," he said, holding up his other hand in surrender. The blood pouring from her calf dripped in gobs down her leg and into the open palm of the hand she'd pinned to the ground. "You don't have to-"
Amelia shot him once in the head. Had to restrain herself from doing it twice. Blood sprayed up, out, everywhere, good thing you're wearing black a fountain of morbidity and irrevocable choices.
She dropped her gun within reaching distance of his body, able to breathe now, feeling safe for the first time today because a corpse couldn't pick it up and shoot her.
The silence in the clearing gave way to a white noise of voices, talking to her. Some yelling, others not, some cursing. Sarah screamed, and started crying. She ignored all of them and ran for the tree line. She barely made it to the trees before she lost her balance, fell to her hands and knees, and threw up in the dirt.