Three Orphan Pilgrimage (The Alternative to the Final Season)

by J. Gray Dingler

A story about three kids on a post-apocalyptic road trip, and the sequel to Young and Young at Heart. Their reprieve from a world torn apart by the dead coming to a close, a ten-year-old girl and her best friend set out on a journey to find a place to call home for not only themselves but also for the baby boy that they promised to take care of. [Art:Albaharu. Some M-Rated Content]

96. Fall

Clementine felt her grip slipping as she clung to the cliff in desperation. She knew she shouldn't have tried this but had done it anyway. Looking up, she saw a rock sticking out of the wall above her. If she could just get a grip on it she might be able to scramble her way to top before her arms give out. Clem took a deep breath and shot her arm out at the rock jutting out of the cliff. A sense of relief washed over her as she felt her fingers connect with the rock, then her stomach dropped along with the rest of her as her hand slipped off.

The safety rope slowed Clem's fall and the padded mats made a soft landing even softer. She had come to enjoy her morning visits to the climbing wall. The tall ceiling made this room feel less claustrophobic than the rest of the bunker and climbing gave Clem a fun physical activity that didn't require her to go outside. She also enjoyed challenging herself by trying progressively harder routes to the top each morning, even if they were strenuous for someone as short as her.

Clem was tempted to try again, but then she felt a dull ache in her side. It was very minor, but it was right where her gunshot wound used to be; she knew she shouldn't have pushed herself so hard. Clem took off the harness, picked up her lantern and headed for the stairs. She walked up a couple of floors before arriving at the shooting range. It was little more than a row of booths littered with shell casings over-looking a long and empty concrete corridor whose back wall was riddled with bullet holes.

Clem didn't like this room and usually she didn't have any reason to come here. But after setting her lantern down she moved over to the machine gun she dropped off here on her way down to the rock climbing wall. Even after familiarizing herself with every single piece of it, Clem realized last night she'd never actually fired this gun before. After doing a count of their remaining bullets, she reasoned it was prudent to practice while they had enough ammo to even try.

She pulled a sheet of paper out of her backpack along with a roll of tape, then walked down to the end of the range. Peeling some tape off of the roll, Clem's eyes fell on the scraps of paper left on the floor by the previous owners. They were pictures of faces, likely pages torn from magazines or books, and Clem found it unnerving how each and every one had at least a dozen bullet holes neatly drilled into their foreheads.

Clem taped up her own target, a big circle with a dot drawn in the middle, then hurried back to the other side of the range. Picking up the machine gun, Clem took a breath as she acclimated to its weight. Although it wasn't particularly heavy, it was wholly different from the pistols she had grown accustomed to. Clem grabbed a pair of earmuffs from the table behind her, then stepped up to the counter. She switched the gun's safety off, braced the stock against her shoulder, then lined up the sights.

Even after drawing her target as big as she could it wasn't much larger than a tiny dot from this distance. It was difficult to line up the sights on something so small, but Clem took her time and waited between breaths before squeezing the trigger. There was a single sharp kick accompanied by a deafening shot that made Clem's ears ring even through the earmuffs. She couldn't see if she had hit her target but prepared to fire again, reasoning she couldn't stop to check her accuracy in an actual gunfight.

After five shots, Clem figured it was time to practice what she'd actually come here to practice. She located the gun's safety and switched it to 'AUTO'. Clem took another breath then lined up her sights again. Several shots fired almost instantly, prompting Clem to immediately release the trigger. Even having only tapped the trigger for less than a second she had to stop and rub her shoulder.

Clem braced herself and gave the trigger another short pull and felt a few more shots fly out of the gun. She had been ready for it this time and so a short burst wasn't too difficult for her control. Taking a deep breath, Clem reasoned she might need more than just a burst of gunfire someday. She steeled herself and held the trigger down. The gun fiercely resisted her but she kept her hands on it, wrestling with it like it was a live snake trying to arch its head around to spray its lead venom at her.

The shots stopped almost immediately after they started. Clem switched the safety back on and removed the magazine; empty. Ducking under the counter, Clem hurried over to her target at the end of the range. A few of the shots handed landed on the bullseye, many more in the general area around it, and a few just past the edge of the paper. Looking at all the new bullet holes, of which there were a lot of, Clem realized she didn't have to be all that accurate with a gun like this, at least not against the living. Against the dead, only the bull eyes would matter. It dawned on her it was a lot easier to kill people than walkers, and that led her to realize that's probably why there were so many walkers in the early days of the outbreak.

Clem returned to the gun and started reloading the magazine with bullets from her backpack, which took ages longer to do than firing them. She had intended to practice more but her shoulder ached in addition to her side bothering her. Instead, she checked twice to make sure the safety was on after reloading the gun, then tossed it and her backpack over her shoulders. She had practiced enough for one day and was eager to get on with her morning.

Next on her way up to the living room was the pantry, a mostly open room stuffed with half-full pallets of canned goods. Clem found it hard to decide between the various choices of two-year-old goods that all had almost entirely lost their flavor. Sarah and Clem herself didn't care all that much but Omid did and was very stubborn about what he would eat. Clem couldn't blame him, she didn't much care for eating most of this stuff either, but they had little choice.

Clem fished out some canned cranberry and some chicken soup, hoping that alternating between sweet and salty would be enough to get him through another meal. She stuffed several cans of each into her pack, then headed back to the stairs. Food was on the eighth floor down meaning that meals necessitated a long trip up and down eight stories worth of stairs every single day. Clem had volunteered to be one to make these daily hikes; Sarah had enough to worry about already reasoned Clem.

After trudging up a few more flights of stairs, Clem stopped at the library. It was little more than some nice tables and couches arranged around a lot of half-full bookshelves. Whether they were half-full because the previous owners had removed books or it was never finished wasn't clear. But a single bookshelf near the entrance filled with worn and frayed books made it clear that the people here before had made use of the library.

These books were almost entirely how-to guides, manuals, atlases, and other reference material relevant to living in a world where you couldn't call anyone for help. Whenever these books were worn out because the previous owners were reading them or because they had to retrieve them after realizing the bunker's library didn't stock any useful books Clem didn't know. What she did know was these books were valuable and she had spent a lot of time reading them lately.

Opening her backpack, she returned a book on home improvement to the shelf and grabbed a very different instructional book to replace it. She was about to zip up her pack when she spotted Jet's guide in the dim light of the lantern. She had placed it here thinking it was every bit as valuable as the other books but never read it herself; she couldn't even look at the pages very long without thinking about him.

She had tried to hold onto hope she'd still see Jet or Patty or Devlin again, but by now that hope had dwindled to almost nothing. If they were still out there, they probably would never find each other again. Sighing to herself, Clem picked up the book; 'OUTBREAK SURVIVAL GUIDE'. If she and Sarah were to survive, they'd need every advantage they could get it. Clem slipped the guide into her backpack, reasoning she didn't have to start reading it today.

Taking the other book in hand, Clem returned to the pitch darkness that was the stairwell. Even with a lantern Clem found this place in particular unnerving. A seemingly endless cold and dark set of stairs spiraling deep into the bowels of the Earth felt like a stairway to Hell itself. And all the doors leading to rooms she had yet to spend much time investigating unnerved her. Clem was always nervous there was still something hidden in this bunker, and that one day it might come out to greet her.

Finally reaching the door to the living area, Clem hurried out of the stairwell. Before going to greet Sarah and Omid, she briefly detoured the nearest bathroom. After pouring some water into the toilet tank so she could flush it, Clem went to pick up the book she set down near the sink. While grabbing it, she couldn't help catching sight of her reflection. Even in the dim lantern light the massive scar running across the left side of her face was as clear as day.

The wound had healed but the mark it left, like so many others, appeared permanent. Clem hated it but couldn't stop herself from staring at it, the surgical slice crossing across her entire cheek and stopping right at her eye. She literally couldn't look at herself anymore without being reminded of the traumas she had suffered, so she stopped, grabbed her book, and hurried out of the bathroom.

Stepping into the living room, Clem saw the lights were on but couldn't immediately locate Sarah or Omid. She did hear some music coming from the bedroom and started moving towards it but that's when she noticed Sarah on the couch. She was lying on her side, her back turned to Clem. Moving over towards her, Clem saw Sarah had a pillow over her head. Clem tossed the book she was carrying onto the table and knelt down.

"Sarah?" asked Clem in a whisper as she leaned in close. "Are… are you okay?"

Sarah very slowly started to stir. She pulled the pillow off her head and looked over her shoulder. "Hey Clem," she said in a quiet voice.

"Hey," said Clem. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I… I just needed to lie down for a minute." Clem did her best not to stare at Sarah's stomach as she rolled over but couldn't stop herself from glancing at it briefly; it looked like Sarah had stuffed a pillow under her shirt. "I had to put on some music when you started shooting," she said.

"I didn't scare Omid did I?" asked Clem. "I told you—"

"It's fine, he's okay," assured Sarah. "But I felt kind of sick so I came out here to get some water, and I heard all those gunshots and… I just needed to lie down."

"I'm sorry." Clem waited for Sarah to say something, but she just laid there. "Is there anything else wrong?" Clem placed her hand on Sarah's shoulder. "If there is, you can tell me." Clem waited patiently until she finally heard Sarah speak.

"I hate being pregnant…" she whispered.

"I know," whispered Clem. "And I'm sorry."

"I'm so sick of it," spoke an embittered Sarah. "I'm sick of being sick, and hungry, and tired, and… I just want it to be over," spoke Sarah through her tears. "I… I can feel it moving sometimes."

"You can?"

"I don't know what else it could be," cried Sarah as she rubbed her stomach. "Every now and then I just feel… moving in my stomach. Like I ate something small that was still alive."

Clem felt a sickly twinge in her own stomach upon hearing that.

"I hate this," wept Sarah. "I hate this so much. I hate it… I hate him…"

Clem didn't ask who 'he' was, she already knew who Sarah was talking about.

"I… I can't do it anymore."

"It won't be forever," assured Clem. "It—"

"It'll be four more months!" barked Sarah suddenly as she sat up, her eyes bursting with anger as they glared at Clementine. "And that's if I'm lucky!"

"I… I know, but—"

"I… I don't want to pregnant anymore!"

"I know…" Clem wrapped her arms around Sarah and tried to console her. "Please don't cry." Sarah just kept crying, sounding more miserable with each choked sob. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it usually wasn't this bad. Normally, Sarah would just cry for a little while and then it would be over, but today was different. She sounded almost hysterical and was crying so hard Clem could feel her desperately gasping for air. This went on so long Clem was actually afraid Sarah was going to suffocate.

"I… I should start drinking again…" she babbled suddenly through her tears.

"We don't have any alcohol," reminded Clem.

"But you could find some, right?" Clem didn't know if she could. "Maybe… maybe it's not too late to kill it."

"But, if it dies now—"

"It doesn't have any teeth—babies don't get those until after they're born," reasoned Sarah, her voice a disturbing mix of terror and eagerness. "Even if turned into a lurker, it couldn't bite me!"

"But it'd be inside you and…" Sarah immediately collapsed into Clem's lap and started crying harder than before. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"I just want to die!"

"Don't say that!" begged Clem, those words practically a dagger through her heart. "It'll be—"

"Don't say it'll be okay!" dictated Sarah through her teeth as she looked up at Clem suddenly. "It's… it's not gonna be okay… It's not… it's…" Sarah collapsed back into Clem's lap, wheezing for air as Clem racked her mind for something—anything to say that wouldn't be an empty promise or a blatant life.

"I… um… Sarah…" Clem rubbed the back of Sarah's head as she endured the waking agony of hearing her in so much pain. "I don't know if it'll be okay or not," said Clem before taking a breath. "But you know I'm gonna be right here with you the whole time, right? Okay? Whatever happens, I'll be right here, and I'm gonna do everything I can for you. You know that, right? Whatever happens, me and Omid will…"

Looking up, Clem saw Omid standing in the hall, a horrified look on his face while tears welled up in his quivering eyes.

"Omid!" Sarah hastily wiped her face off as she stood up. "It's okay! I'm okay," she lied as she hurried over to Omid. "Don't cry, I'm okay."

"Everything's fine," said Clem as she forced a smile onto her face. "Don't worry," Clem started rubbing her hand through Omid's hair as Sarah picked him up. "Don't cry, it's okay."

"Yeah… it's all right," said Sarah between deep breaths. "Everything's fine."

Omid wasn't crying, yet. "You hungry?" Clem set her machine gun on the counter, took off her backpack and unpacked a couple of cans. "I think we could all use some breakfast." Clem opened up the cranberry while Sarah grabbed a battery-powered hot plate, a piece of salvage they discovered while living in the bunker. It wasn't very good, barely heating a single can worth of soup, but it saved them the trouble of going out into the cold to start a fire every meal.

Chopping up the cranberry, Clem noticed Omid was wearing a jacket she never remembered seeing him have before. It was black, with sleeves that were a little too long for him. Examining it more closely, Clem discovered NASA patches on the chest and an American flag on one of the sleeves.

"Where did you get this?" asked Clem as she knelt down for a better look.

"Cape Canaveral." Clem looked as Sarah approached with a soup can carefully balanced on the hotplate. "I picked it out for him in their gift shop, remember?"

"Oh yeah," said Clem. "He was too small to even wear it then."

"And I said in a year or so it'd be perfect for him," said Sarah as she stirred the soup.

"I forgot all about that," admitted Clem.

"I did too until yesterday," said Sarah. "I was digging around in the Brave while you were out to find warmer stuff for us to wear, and I found that jacket buried in the bottom of the drawer."

Clem looked at Omid wearing the tyke-sized flight jacket and couldn't stop herself from smiling as she saw his little fingers poking out past the edges of the sleeves.

"Do you think it'll be warm enough in here for the winter?" Clem looked over at Sarah, who was also staring at Omid but more with concern than amusement. "We're not even through October yet and it's already getting cold."

"It's a lot warmer down here than outside," reminded Clem.

"I know, but… is that gonna be enough?" asked Sarah as she looked up at Clem. "Did those… people, ever say anything about the winter being harder in here or using heaters or anything like that?"

"I don't think so," said Clem. "They said they were here last winter though, so it must have been warm enough."

"Well, just keep an eye out for anything that could help," suggested Sarah as she spooned some soup out of a can. "We've got tons of blankets and stuff already, but if you see anything like a heater and—"

"It runs on batteries?" Sarah sighed in response. "If I do see anything that'll help I'll be sure to bring it home."

"Thanks Clem." Sarah held out a spoonful of soup only for Omid to inch away from it. "Come on Omid, it's chicken soup. It's good." Sarah placed the spoon in her mouth, then flashed Omid a big smile. Clem could tell she was faking that grin; Omid might have as well

"Here, try some cranberry, it's not bad." Clem offered Omid a spoonful of jellied cranberry and got largely the same reaction, with Omid inching away from the spoon as the grimace on his face got bigger. "Come on Omid, you gotta be hungry. You barely ate anything for dinner last night."

Clem kept urging Omid to take a bite, then Sarah, and every time he refused them. They had to keep stopping him from getting up and leaving, only to go back to the routine of trying to urge him to eat, to no success.

"It's almost Halloween," Sarah announced suddenly after Omid refused to eat any soup for the fifth time in a row.

"Huh?" said Clem.

"Halloween," repeated Sarah. "It's probably a week off, or close to it," explained Sarah. "Why not give him a treat?"

"Sarah…"

"What are we saving them for if not a holiday?"

"If we give it to him now he's just gonna want more tomorrow, and we're not gonna have any for him," argued Clem. "He's never gonna get used to canned stuff if we give him a treat now."

"He has been getting used to it," argued Sarah. "He doesn't like it but he eats it anyway, everyday, for two months now."

"Until today."

"Because I scared him by yelling…" Clem watched as Sarah dropped the spoon into the can and covered her face. She was trying her best to not start crying again, which just made Clem feel like crying.

"Fuck it," said Clem as she stood up. "We all could use a treat." Clem headed over to the fridge where they kept their water. Pulling open the door, Clem's eyes darted upward to the top shelf where they stored their favorite foods. There was a single remaining pack of freeze-dried ice cream, two bags of freeze-dried fruit, and about a quarter jar of jam leftover from the farm.

Eyeing her options, dismayed at how little they had left, Clem grabbed the bag of freeze-dried oranges and headed over to where Omid was sitting with Sarah, his face growing increasingly distressed as Sarah struggled to stop herself from crying. Sitting down beside them, both their eyes immediately lit up as Clem opened that bag of freeze-dried goodness.

"Yeah, I figured you'd like these," said Clem as she pulled a dried orange slice out of the bag. "Both of you." Clem offered Sarah a smile, which seemed to chase away a little of the gloom hanging in the air.

"Here you go Omid," said Clem as she handed the slice to the boy, who immediately popped it in his mouth.

"Remember when we had those oranges back in Florida?" said Sarah as Clem handed her a slice. "We used to make him orange juice for breakfast every morning."

"OJ for OJ," said Clem with a weak laugh as she rubbed her fingers through Omid's hair. "He could never get enough of it." Clem popped an orange slice into her mouth and sucked on it until she could taste that familiar citrus flavor again; she wished she had a gallon of it.

"It's so unfair," said Sarah as Clem handed Omid another slice. "He's a good boy. He should get whatever he wants to eat."

"I know Sarah," spoke a weary Clem as she scooped some cranberry out of a can. "But we can't get any more of the stuff he likes right now."

"If ever," added Sarah under her breath as she stirred the soup.

It still took some coaxing, but Omid finally swallowed a spoonful of soup, and not long after one spoonful of cranberry, but only as long as he was rewarded with another orange slice afterwards. By the time the bag was empty, he had eaten four spoonfuls of soup and three spoons of cranberry. Combined with the orange slices, it was probably the single biggest meal he'd had eaten since Clem's birthday.

After lunch, Clem took Omid back to the bedroom. She read to him for a while, then changed him. After that, she turned on his toy so the room would fill up with stars. This never failed to put him at ease and before long, Clem had managed to get Omid down for a nap. After tucking him, Clem located his stuffed elephant. It was beginning to show its age. One of the ears had nearly been torn off from Omid's chewing, it was leaking stuffing through one of its mangled legs, and one of the eyes had long since fallen off.

Clem carefully tucked the threadbare pachyderm into Omid's arms then gave him a kiss on the forehead. She turned the music down, collected the dirty diaper and brought it into the kitchen, where she tossed it into the sink. They had cleaned these cloth diapers so many times they were little more than frayed rags covered in unremovable stains at this point. Normally they would have replaced them by now, but Clem hadn't found any in Cheyenne or the surrounding areas. At the rate they were going, she'd probably have to chance a trip to Denver to get everything they'd need for the winter.

Clem took some unboiled water from the bottom shelf of the fridge and did her best to clean the diaper. After deciding it was as clean as it was going to get, she rinsed off her hands and headed over to the couch where Sarah was sitting. She was reading the book Clem had dropped earlier, Pregnancy for Dummies. Clem had found it during her last trip to Cheyenne while searching for building supplies. Sarah's face was buried in it and the look of intensity in her eyes unnerved Clem.

"Sarah." Sarah didn't respond right away, seemingly lost in the book for several seconds before finally looking over at Clem. "Are… are you okay?" Sarah didn't answer, she just sat there with a sullen look on her face. "I'm gonna read that, every page of it," assured Clem as she sat down. "You don't have read it, I'll—"

"I already read it the day after you brought it back," said Sarah as she set the book down. "I just thought I'd check it again, in case I missed something, some… solution."

"Like I said, I'm gonna read it—twice," promised Clem hastily. "When… it happens, we're gonna be ready, and I'm gonna do everything I can so you'll be okay. I was there with Christa when Omid as born, and it was scary and there was a lot of yelling, but then it was over and everything was okay. You're gonna be okay."

"But what about after that?" asked Sarah with a grimace. "Even if I… what do we do after? We… we can't take care of another baby. We're barely taking care of Omid at this point, and he's over a year and half old. A newborn is gonna need formula and we don't have that, and even if we found some it'd probably be spoiled by now."

"I… I don't know Sarah."

"This is my fault."

"No," dictated Clem as she looked Sarah in the eyes. "Don't ever say that." Sarah stared at Clem in disbelief for a second before turning away. She had never told Clem exactly what happened between her and Anthony, and Clem never asked, thinking if Sarah wanted her to know she'd eventually tell her. "I love you Sarah, and I'd do anything for you, and nothing's ever gonna change that."

"Thanks Clem," spoked Sarah in a quiet voice as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Is… is there anything I can do for you right now?" asked Clem as she inched closer. "If there is, just tell me."

"You're already doing a ton Clem," said Sarah. "Don't worry."

"I do worry, about you. If there's anything I can do to make you feel better, just a little, tell me, and it'll help us both feel better."

"Well…" Sarah bit her lip for a second. "You were with Christa and Omid's dad for a long time right?"

"Yeah."

"Did they ever… argue? Or change their mind about wanting a baby? Or anything?"

"I'd hear them argue sometimes, but not about that. If they did I don't remember it. I was really sad back then, so I wasn't always paying attention. Why?"

"It's just… I hope it dies after it's born," admitted Sarah, shame tugging at the sides of her face as she turned away. "That's a horrible thing to say isn't it?"

Clem didn't know how to answer that. She didn't want to see a baby die, but she didn't know how they could possibly take care of another one either. She racked her mind trying to find something comforting to say to Sarah, but all that came out was: "I have no idea."

Clem's words only further saddened Sarah, who buried her face in her hands again. "Hey, don't be like that," said Clem as she put an arm around her. "Remember after Omid was born, and Christa got bitten?"

"How could I forget?" mumbled Sarah. "It was the… it was one of the worse moments of my life."

"Yeah, but… she said we could just give Omid back to God." Sarah looked over at Clem suddenly.

"She did say that."

"She was one of the bravest people I ever met, and you're the nicest one I've ever met," said Clem. "The only reason we're even having to think about this stuff is because the world is horrible, not you, or her."

"Yeah, it is," said Sarah with a sigh. "I'm just so… tired… and scared."

"Me too." Clem moved in close as Sarah wrapped her arms around her. Clem gently stroked Sarah's back while Sarah sobbed softly into Clem's arms. As Clem clung to her, she spotted another book lying on the coffee table. It was covered in decorative stars and planets surrounding a sun etched into the middle in gold.

"Is that your diary?" asked Clem.

"Huh." Sarah let go of Clem and dried her eyes before looking at the table. "Yeah, I found it while digging out Omid's jacket. I started writing down everything that's happened since we left the farm. I figure… if something happens—"

"Don't say that."

"At least this way someone will know about us, that we were alive once."

"Sarah, stop it."

"It won't have all been for nothing."

"It's gonna be okay!"

"You don't know that!"

"I know I don't but I'm trying damnit!" Clem just barely held herself back from outright yelling. She looked over her shoulder at the bedroom door and waited; silence thankfully. Turning back around, Clem found Sarah staring down at her feet, looking ashamed.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "You're going out there all the time trying to make things better for us and I'm just here complaining every day."

"It's okay," shrugged Clem. "I did the same thing when I was shot."

"Yeah, because you were hurt."

"So are you." Clem caressed Sarah's cheek. "And by now I was mostly better."

Sarah clasped Clem's hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she professed with such honesty that in unnerved Clem slightly.

"I feel the same way," she admitted, unable to hide her own fear as she realized she'd be lost without Sarah.

"You're still wearing this." Clem watched as Sarah tugged at the bracelet of colored beads on her wrist. "Do you ever take it off?"

"When I go to bed, or take a bath," answered Clem. "And sometimes I forget."

"When I made it, I thought it looked kind of stupid," admitted Sarah as she gently grasped the heart pendant hanging from the bracelet. "I'm surprised you like it so much."

"I love you. Why would it surprise you that I love things you make for me?" Sarah laughed and turned away in embarrassment; Clem could swear she was blushing. "Oh, that reminds me, did you have any luck with those seeds I brought back?" Sarah let go of Clem's hand and sighed. "No then."

"A little," she answered. "Come on, I'll show you." Sarah stood slowly, grasping her stomach as she did, then led Clem to one of the spare bedrooms. Sarah had set up a very crude lab with tools Clem brought back from her scavenging expeditions. In the back of the room was a couple of large fluorescent lamps shining down on some paper towels spread out over a long table. Peeling back the paper, Clem saw several dozen seeds laid out on the table, a grand total of three of which had green stems growing out of them.

"This is not good," concluded Clem as she looked at the struggling seedlings.

"Honestly, it's better than I was expecting," said Sarah. "All those seed packets you brought back had probably been left out for three winters now. And, I'm not sure if these lights I got are the right ones or not. You can use fluorescents instead of sunlight but it needs to be the right wavelength or… something else I had written down in my binders that we left behind on the farm. Still, this means they're not all dead."

"Yeah, but not many of them," concluded Clem. "I'll have to find more before it gets even colder and kills what few seeds are left in the world."

"I was also going to ask you, if it's okay, if you can get me some pots," added Sarah. "We can't make at greenhouse in here, but I might be able to grow a couple of tomato plants," said Sarah as she adjusted her jacket. "If we're lucky, they'll grow into full plants and I can use them to get us some fresh seeds just before spring, and… at least we can grow tomatoes."

"I'll be sure to get some when I go to Cheyenne today. I should get going already." Clem returned to kitchen. She offloaded the remaining canned goods onto the counter; lunch and dinner for later. She then tossed her backpack over her shoulder and retrieved her pistol, radio and bayonet from the cupboards.

"Do you really think you need that?" asked Sarah as Clem collected the machine gun.

"I… I don't know," shrugged Clem as she checked to make sure the safety was still on. "I figure I should get used to carrying it now, in case I need it."

"I hope you don't," said Sarah.

"Me too." Clem tossed the gun onto her back. "Is there anything else you need while I'm out?"

"Um, sleeping pills if you can find any."

"We're not out of those."

"No, but… we'll probably need more before the winter is over."

Clem looked at Sarah for a moment. Despite looking exhausted, she was all too aware of how much trouble she had sleeping. "I'll find you some." Clem turned and headed for the door when she felt something grabbing her from behind.

"Thank you," whispered Sarah as she hugged Clem tenderly. "If there's anything I can do for you, anything, just tell me." Clem's heart skipped a beat upon hearing those words. She could think of several things Sarah could do for her: set-up a romantic dinner, sweep her into her arms, kiss her on the lips over and over again. But feeling Sarah's stomach pressing against her back made Clem's choice easy. "Just take care of yourself, and Omid," said Clem. "Keeping you two safe is all I want right now."

"I know, but if you want anything else—"

"Just take care of yourself and Omid," repeated Clem. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Keep your radio on. Just in case."

"I will. I love you Sarah."

"I love you too." Clem reluctantly pulled free of Sarah and walked the long and lonely concrete path back up to the surface. Nearing the blast doors, Clem felt a shiver shoot up her spine as the cold wind blew in through the opening. Hurrying past the doors, Clem moved into the Brave and retrieved her trench coat and gas mask from the fridge. After loathing them for making her sweat all summer, she now treasured them for keeping her warm.

Stepping back out, Clem inspected a barrel near the blast doors. She knelt down and examined the spigot sticking out of the bottom. "Come on," she said as she twisted the handle. Water started pouring into a pot sitting beside the barrel. Clem filled it half way up then turned the spigot off. Now she waited, staring intently at the seal where the spigot met the barrel. Clem knew water would start seeping out around the spigot any second now; it didn't.

Clem blinked in disbelief as she realized she had finally made a working rain barrel. It wasn't leaking, the spigot didn't pop out overnight, and water actually came out. A month of fumbling over washers, studying do it yourself guides and wrecking perfectly good barrels had finally paid off. No more dumping her hands into frigid water every morning, she could just turn on a spigot and they have water, just like Sin had made for them back on the farm.

Now Clem only needed to make a dozen more before spring, along with fixing up an old farmhouse, find more seeds and do a few hundred other things, all so they'd have everything they'd need for another summer of backbreaking farm work. Just thinking about it exhausted Clem as she trudged around to the back of the Brave. The last couple of months had been an annoying mix of tedium and loneliness, and as Clem pulled her bike off the Brave's rack, she was dismayed when she realized that was all she had to look forward to.

Pedaling north, Clem found the bleak scenery an accurate reflection of her own mood. The already desolate plains of Wyoming had become even more dreary as the first frost of the season had set in a month ago and killed the already dying grass, now leaving just cold emptiness sprawling out in every direction. Although Clem never entirely stopped being afraid of going out, the dread of being attacked had gradually been replaced with a fear of isolation.

She had been all around the region surrounding Cheyenne, and never once did she find any signs of living people. Not at the overpasses where she left messages, not near the farmhouse Clem had been gradually repairing, not anywhere. She had traveled further and more often in these two months then the entire half a year they spent in Spokeston and had found no one, no evidence to suggest anyone was still alive, anywhere; it was as if they were last living people on Earth.

Reaching the creek, Clem went through her usual routine of searching for signs of visitors and of course found nothing. After that, Clem gathered wood in the old farmhouse's fireplace and started a fire. It wasn't like their cozy home in Spokeston, it was drafty and broken, with cold air seeping in from every angle. And unlike in their farmhouse in Oklahoma, Clem didn't have anyone else around to fix the various problems this building had.

She had spent the week fumbling over boards, nails, and caulk trying to keep the heat in, thinking it'd be essential if they ever expected to live here instead of the bunker. Closing all the doors, Clem waited for the fire to warm the living room, then sighed as she inevitably felt a stiff breeze coming from the broken windows. Clem picked up a caulking gun she had left in the corner and started working.

Repairing the broken windows was beyond Clem. Even after reading through numerous books about home improvement, she had no idea how to replace panes of glass even if she could find ones that would fit. Instead, she had boarded up over the windows, which she later stripped off and replaced with more precisely placed boards after the first batch did nothing to stop the cold from getting it. Now she was caulking the already caulked slight gaps between the boards, hoping that would be enough.

Taking a step back, Clem looked at the mess of wood and caulk covering what used to be a window and took a deep breath. Boarding it and two others up left the living room very dark, with only the dim glow of the fire and the last window near the front door letting in any light. Without them, it'd be pitch black in here; it would be like living in the bunker, except colder and less safe.

After making sure all the windows were caulked and hammering the boards' nails a little more to make sure they were as secure as could be, Clem noticed it was getting warmer inside. It still paled in comparison to the small and toasty little living room they had back in Spokeston, but the noticeable improvement at least was some small victory; she didn't spend the last week hammering up boards for nothing.

Heading upstairs, Clem was less pleased to find the second story hallway was soaking wet. She had spent most of yesterday morning trying to plug up the leaks in the roof in anticipation of last night's rain. She had hoped just caulking the leaks from the inside would be enough, but the hall appeared every bit as flooded as if she had never done anything at all. Clem sighed as she realized this problem couldn't be fixed from the relative comfort of being inside the farmhouse.

Heading outside, Clem adjusted her coat as the cold caused her to shiver. She propped up a ladder against the side of the farmhouse and started climbing. Crawling across the roof on all fours, Clem found herself thinking back to when she helped Devlin fix the roof on their old farmhouse. Instead of being nostalgic for her lost friend, Clem was trying to remember all the mundane details of that task. Which tools Devlin used, what order he used them, and exactly how he patched the roof were more important right now.

One thing Clem did remember was him replacing the shingles on the roof. Grabbing one of the tiles on this roof, Clem felt it was loose and came off with barely a nudge. Holding it in her hand, she discovered it was brittle and would likely snap if she didn't handle it gently enough. It probably needed to be replaced, and looking out at the rest of the roof, the hundreds of brittle shingles laid out before her, Clem realized they all would have to be replaced.

Clem sighed, then placed the shingle in her backpack; she could use it to make sure she got the right size pieces later in Cheyenne. Heading back into the house, Clem was disappointed to see the fire was already going out. She took a moment to warm herself before it went out for good. Once it was gone, she headed outside and walked along the road until she reached the bridge overlooking the creek.

Fetching her fishing rod from under the tarp, Clem told herself that because it rained last night her odds of catching a fish were good. She didn't really know if that was true, but she told herself that anyway because she needed to believe she'd catch a fish again. Hanging her legs over the bridge and watching the floater, Clem found it hard to sit and wait. It felt like she was just wasting time, and staring at the water just forced her to think of all the work that still needed doing.

She still hadn't figured out a way to move water from this pitifully shallow creek to the plot of land behind the farmhouse. She had pored through books and had some vague notions of running a hose to some kind of hand pump, but still didn't really have any idea how to build something like that. Even most of the books she read suggested using electrical pumps, like the one they used to get diesel, which needed diesel itself for its own generator to even function; not a sustainable solution.

Watching that floater intently, Clem noticed something small and white drifting down to land next to it, followed by another, and another. It was snowing, and looking up Clem couldn't help smiling at the sight of so many little specks of ice dancing in the wind without a care in the world. It was beautiful and she was briefly overcome with a sense of serenity she hadn't felt in a long time; Omid would love this.

But before Clem could envision herself playing in the snow with Omid and Sarah, her daydream was invaded with more sobering thoughts. The snow could cover the roads and make it harder to get around. The cold might freeze the water in their rain barrels. A blizzard could set in and trap them inside the bunker for weeks. Or Clem might get sick because she sat out in the cold hoping for a fish she'd never catch. She tucked her rod away under the tarp, grabbed her bike and headed back.

It only seemed to get colder as Clem pedaled back, with the wind whipping at the exposed parts of her skin her mask didn't cover and the sun mostly hiding behind clouds. Sarah said since they were further north the winters here would be a lot colder. It wasn't even November yet and it already felt colder than the coldest winters Clem could remember. They had discussed the possibility of driving somewhere south for the winter, but they didn't know of anywhere safe to go and their food supply was buried in the bunker, giving them little choice but to brave winter in Wyoming.

By the time Clem returned to the bunker, her lungs were aching from the bitter cold and her fingers were nearly numb even with gloves on. She could barely summon the strength to return the bike to the rack before staggering into the RV. She tossed off her backpack, machine gun and mask, then collapsed on the couch, immediately curling up into a ball as she buried herself in the upholstery for a bit more warmth.

It probably wasn't even noon yet and she was already exhausted. She did her best to put on a brave face for Sarah, but every day it got a little harder to keep going. Clem felt like drifting off for a nap for a while but forced herself to sit up instead. She dragged herself into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine churned meekly for several seconds and nothing happened. Clem turned the key again, and again got nothing. Then again; still nothing.

"Come on, I know you're cold; I'm cold too," Clem told the Brave as she turned the key again. "I know you're tired; I'm tired too," continued Clem as the engine refused to start. "I know you probably just want to give up…" Clem took her hand off the key. "I do too," she admitted in a whisper. She sat there, in the cold, in the silence, wanting nothing more than to just forget.

"Clem?" Sarah's voice caught Clem off-guard. She looked around the Brave briefly before realizing it was coming from the radio. "Are… are you there?"

"I'm right here," said Clem as she picked up her radio. "I'm all right."

"I thought I heard an engine," said Sarah. "Was that you?"

"Yeah, I was just trying to start the Brave. I need to get more stuff from Cheyenne, and the bike wouldn't be able to carry it."

"Do you need my help?"

"Do you know if there's anything wrong with the Brave?"

"I don't think so, at least nothing new," said Sarah. "It's a diesel engine though, and those struggle when it gets cold."

"Yeah, I know, and it's really cold right now," said Clem. "Is there anything we can do about it?"

"I don't think so, other than wait for it to warm up." Clem sighed as she leaned back in her seat. Sitting there, she watched quietly as flurries started sticking to the windshield. Looking out at the sky, she could see the sun shining in through the gaps in the clouds, almost like rays from heaven that caused the snowflakes to twinkle.

"You know, it just started snowing a little while ago."

"Really?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, it's really pretty," said Clem as she watched the snow fall. "Maybe when I get back, we could take Omid out in it, at least for a minute."

"It probably would be good for him to see the outside again," said Sarah. "Sometimes I'm worried what staying in the bunker all day is doing to him. It'd be good for him to see the sky again, see actual stars instead of just the fake ones that toy makes."

"Maybe we can take him out for a little while tonight, that way he can see stars and snow," suggested Clem. "We could put on the Brave's headlights and he could play in the snow, just like he did during his birthday."

"That sounds wonderful." Clem felt a tinge of warmth grip her heart as she heard an eagerness she rarely heard anymore in Sarah's voice.

"Yeah, it does." Clem took a deep breath. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay. Be…"

"Sarah?"

"Sorry, Omid wants me to keep reading," said Sarah, sounding almost happy for once. "Do you want to say hi to Clementine? Huh? Kemmen?"

Clem listened anxiously for a response. It had been so long since Omid had spoke she had nearly forgotten what his voice had sounded like.

"Clem," said Sarah. "He's smiling right now."

Clem smirked. "Do me a favor. Put the radio right up to his ear."

"Okay." Clem waited a few seconds then pressed the talk button. "I love you," she whispered, a smile on her lips as she spoke.

"He loves you too," assured Sarah. "You be careful, okay?"

"I will." Clem clipped her radio to her belt then placed her hand on the ignition. "We can't give up, not yet, not as long we still have them." Clem turned the key, the engine churned and churned, then there was a pop followed by a dull roar. Clem breathed a sigh of relief as she shifted the Brave into drive.

She drove slow, fearful the snow might make the roads more treacherous. Weather aside, Clem had made this trip back and forth between Cheyenne nearly a dozen times and could probably do it in her sleep. It was always the same empty roads surrounded by the same empty fields. She hadn't even seen any animals in the region since it became colder. Seeing the overpass come into sight on the horizon, Clem almost didn't notice the caravan of vehicles parked on it.

Panic gripped Clem's entire body as she instinctively shifted the Brave into reverse. Her heart was pounding against her chest as she stared out on the line of vehicles stretched out on the tiny overpass. Big trucks and trailers all just lined up on the road like they had always been there. They struck terror into Clem's heart and she didn't stop backing up until they disappeared from sight.

It wasn't until she felt the Brave nearly swerving off the road did Clem take her foot off the gas and slam on the brakes instead, bringing everything to a screeching halt. There she sat, listening to the sound of the engine idling and her heart pounding, eyes glued on the horizon while her mind was filled with horrifying thoughts about those vehicles suddenly bursting over the hill and barreling right towards her.

Clem didn't know how long she sat there until she summoned the will to move again. Her mind was paralyzed with possibilities. Her first instinct was just to drive away; she never wanted to see those trucks again. But then another thought took hold in her mind; what if the others had finally found them? Why else would people park on that empty overpass in the middle of nowhere unless they knew the meaning of the word 'CERES'? What if Patty and Jet and Devlin were all over there right now, looking for her?

Clem slowly took her trembling hands off the wheel, then stood up. She gathered her mask and her machine gun, never taking her eyes off the windshield in case what she saw had seen her and was already on its way. She left the Brave's engine on, reasoning she couldn't risk it not starting if she had to leave in a hurry. Armed and ready, Clem decided she'd use her binoculars to briefly examine the overpass before hurrying home.

Stepping outside, Clem felt more afraid than she had been in a long time. All those old fears of being out in the open were pouring back into her mind, making her knees shake and her stomach churn. Hastily stumbling around the back of the Brave, Clem quickly confirmed she hadn't damaged it when backing up. The very back of the Brave was somewhat hanging past the edge of the road but otherwise appeared fine.

Clem looked out at the horizon and listened carefully; if those trucks were coming closer she'd hear them, hopefully. It was quiet beside the sound of Brave idling, which was barely audible even while Clem was standing right next to it. Not wanting to spend a second longer than necessary out here, Clem rushed up the Brave's back ladder as fast she could, snowflakes sticking to her mask as she gasped for air.

Seeing the overpass in the distance caused Clem to instinctively drop to prone. She made herself as small possible as she crawled across the cold metal. After inching to the very front of the Brave, the overpass became visible in the distance, if only just barely. Clem lay there for a second, her own warm breath clouding up the eyepieces of her mask as she summoned the courage to reach for her binoculars.

She had passed by this overpass so many times that the sight of that empty chunk of elevated road had been burned into her mind, just another piece of the static scenery like the gently sloping hills surrounding it. Looking at it now, an entire parking lot worth of vehicles resting on it felt unreal to Clem. Most of all, it frightened her. As miserable as her routine had been this sudden new development served as a blunt reminder that things could still be worse.

Scanning the overpass, the first thing Clem spotted was a school bus. All the side windows had been covered in crude shutters and the body had been covered in a rainbow of sloppy graffiti. Clem couldn't read any of it except for one word painted in big blue and gold letters across the length of the bus; 'VAQUERO'. Next was a semi-truck complete with trailer, also covered in graffiti, also with only the word 'vaquero' legible from this distance.

Past it was another semi-truck but this one had an open trailer with some kind of construction equipment parked on it. It looked kind of like a bulldozer, but instead of huge shovel on the front it was a row of giant rotating blades. It looked like a massive angry maw filled with sharp teeth, just waiting to eat whatever was foolish enough to approach it. Examining it closely, Clem could see the blades were stained with something dark, which she could only assume was dried blood.

The binoculars trembled in her hands as she scanned a firetruck next. It too was graffitied like the other vehicles but otherwise wasn't noteworthy. Lastly was a small but strange looking car. It had big muddy tires but a very small body, almost like pieces of the car had been removed until only the frame remained. It also had a big bumper on the front that didn't look like it was part of the original vehicle. Clem couldn't help thinking it looked like a weird race car.

She was about to back away when she spotted a couple of figures standing on the very edge of the overpass. Clem went to a kneel to get a better look at them. One of them was wearing a mask but not a gas mask. It was something else, maybe a piece of sporting gear that had been painted blue and gold. Clem didn't know what to make of it so she studied the other figure. She couldn't see their face clearly, something glinting in the sunlight was obscuring it.

Something struck Clem across the face with such force it knocked her backwards, slamming her head against the hard metal of the RV. Her ears were ringing so badly it briefly sounded like something exploded and the whole world was twirling as she tried to stand up. Clem spun around, partially because she was dizzy but also because she was terrified that whatever attacked her was still close.

She didn't see anything nearby except for her binoculars lying at her feet. She grabbed them then rushed over to the edge of the edge Brave, where she quickly leapt off. She lost her footing as she landed, causing her to topple over and fall face first into the dirt. The mask banged against the side of her head, which was already throbbing. Clem forced herself to stand up and charge towards the Brave, not slowing down for a second until she reached the driver's seat. Tossing the binoculars onto the dashboard as she shifted the vehicle into drive, Clem suddenly noticed they were broken.

The right lens was completely shattered. At first Clem thought she had broken them in the fall, but picking them up, she discovered it was broken on both ends. It was only then she noticed she had trouble seeing through her mask's right eyepiece. There was a massive crack in it now that wasn't there a minute ago. Pulling her mask off and taking a closer look at the binoculars, Clem found herself reaching her trembling hand in the broken tube to retrieve something; she pulled out a severely dented bullet.

"Sarah, pack everything you can and get Omid, we're leaving!" Clem didn't even wait for a response over the radio before slamming on the gas pedal, spinning the Brave around faster than she had ever before. They shot her, and the only reason she was alive right now was dumb luck. She hadn't even done anything beyond try to see them and they had tried to kill her. Clem didn't know who these people were and didn't want to know, she just wanted to get as far away as possible from them.

"Clem?" called Sarah from the radio. "What happened? What's—"

"Get Omid and your gun and pack as much food and anything else we need into a backpack, then come outside."

"But—"

"Just do it!" ordered Clem as she struggled to keep the Brave on the road as she wrangled the wheel in one hand and the radio in the other. "I'll be there in a couple of minutes, wait for me outside, I'll explain everything then."

Clem tossed the radio onto the dashboard and placed both hands onto the steering wheel just in time to avoid driving the Brave into a ditch. She was panicking, and she knew it, and it didn't make a lick of difference to Clem right now. She couldn't do this again, couldn't be a prisoner again or a slave or beaten or shot or raped, she just couldn't, and she wouldn't let it happen, not again, she wouldn't just sit and wait for monsters to catch her again.

The bunker came into sight and Clem found herself driving a little faster, pushing the old RV chugging off years old diesel as hard as she could. She screeched to stop in front of the bunker, the Brave sliding slightly even after slamming on the brakes as hard as Clem could. She hurried over to the window and was frustrated when she didn't see Sarah standing outside. Clem raced over and snatched her radio off the dashboard.

"Sarah where are you?" No response. "Sarah!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" she barked back over the radio. Clem clipped the radio to her belt, picked up her machine gun off the counter and pulled her mask back down before charging out the door. She stopped briefly as she looked up at the bunkers' giant metal doors; she wouldn't miss them. She then raced inside, charging through the concrete tunnels with a lantern in one hand and the machine gun loosely grasped in another; she wouldn't miss this either.

Clem saw the door to the living room and burst inside. "We're gonna go out, okay?" Clem saw Sarah telling Omid, who looked over suddenly at Clem as she marched forward. He recoiled in fear, his upper lip quivering as Clem drew closer, seemingly on the verge of crying now.

"Clem?" Clem looked over at Sarah, who had a spooked look on her face and a loaded rifle in her hands.

"It's me," assured Clem as she pulled off her mask. "It's just me, okay Omid?" she said as she leaned in so he could see her face; this stopped Omid from crying but did little else to reassure him.

"Clem, wuh… what's going on?" asked Sarah, barely able to mask the panic in her voice.

"We gotta go, did you pack?"

"Yeah, I grabbed as much food as I could fit in here," said Sarah as she pivoted to show the backpack she was wearing. "And I also packed—"

"Good, grab Omid, I'll cover us," said Clem as she clipped the lantern to her belt so both hands would be free to operate the machine gun. "And keep quiet, just in case they're on their way here."

"Who's they?"

"I don't know," said Clem as she pulled her mask back down. "And I want to leave before we have to find out."

Sarah didn't question Clem after that. She picked up Omid and followed Clem as they started moving towards the surface. Clem couldn't run while Sarah was carrying Omid, but she walked briskly hoping to set a good pace. Clem was trembling the entire way, barely able to keep moving because her knees were shaking so badly. Every footstep echoing in the tunnels made it hard to hear anything else, and before long Clem could swear she could hear more than just hers and Sarah's footsteps.

Once she spotted the light at the end of the tunnel, Clem started running. She didn't even wait for Sarah, thinking if there was anyone out there only she was in a position to fight back right now. Clem burst past the doors and swung her gun around; no sign of anyone coming from the road. Clem switched off the lantern and spun around just in time to see Sarah step out with Omid. She was shuddering while Omid whimpered in her arms.

"Come on," whispered Clem, a sudden swell of guilt washing over her. "It'll be okay."

Sarah followed Clem inside and then immediately rushed Omid to the bedroom. Clem locked the door and then hurried into the driver's seat.

"What's happening?" asked Sarah in a whisper as she rushed back to the front.

"We're leaving." Clem shifted the Brave into drive and started turning back to the road.

"Why? What happened?" said Sarah with some small sense of authority.

"There were people at the overpass today," reported Clem as she put her foot down on the pedal, sending the Brave rushing forward.

"People?" repeated Sarah, her voice trembling. "Wait, maybe—"

"They shot at me," continued Clem as she turned onto the road leading north towards the creek. "I was looking at them with my binoculars and one of them shot me."

"Oh my God, are you okay?" asked Sarah as she rushed to Clem's side.

"I got lucky; my binoculars stopped the bullet," said Clem, her hands shaking uncontrollably as spoke. "Still, we can't stay here."

"But… where are we going to go?"

"I don't know, just not here."

"We need the food in the bunker to get through the winter, we can't just leave it," argued Sarah.

"We'll figure something out," insisted Clem.

"They don't know where the bunker is, do they? I barely found it when I was looking for you and only because I saw someone leaving it."

"We can't take the chance they'll find it anyway."

"The doors inside are really sturdy and can only be opened with keys we have. They wouldn't be able to get in."

"I'm not staying in there!"

"Clem stop, right now!"

Sarah's order compelled Clem to obey, causing her to hastily slam the brakes on, bringing the RV to a rolling stop. She could see they were just in front of the creek and the farmhouse now, which only slightly alleviated Clem's fears. She looked over her shoulder as Sarah came up behind her. She wasn't angry, just worried. Slowly, she removed Clementine's mask and then placed a hand on her cheek.

"Oh God… does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" asked a nervous Clem. "What do you see?"

"The right side of your face is all bruised up, like someone hit you."

"That's where my binoculars smashed into my mask… I think," said Clem. "If I didn't have them up when I did, the bullet would have gone through my head instead."

"God, no wonder you're so scared," spoke Sarah with great sympathy. "But let's just stop and think about this, okay?"

"I… I just…"

"You're scared, so am I," admitted Sarah. "Let's just go back to the bunker, and—"

"No!" insisted Clem as she turned away.

"I know you hate it in there, but it's safe," insisted Sarah as she moved in front of Clem so as to keep speaking face to face. "There's only one way in and only we have the keys."

"What if they break down the door?"

"Then we'll shoot them." Sarah's words were as cold as ice. "It's just a long tunnel between the living room and the room with the big doors; they'd have nowhere to hide."

"It'd be like a shooting range," realized Clem.

"Exactly, and we'll camp out right beside the door with our guns and wait. If they break in we'd hear it coming a mile away and be ready for them." There was a confidence in her words that Clem rarely heard from Sarah. What she said was making sense, and she was saying it loud enough to drown out Clem's own panicked thoughts. "Here, just get up and I'll drive us back to the bunker. We got enough water saved up to stay inside for days, that'll give us plenty of time to figure out what to do."

"Oh… okay." Clem peeled her hands off the steering wheel, her knuckles aching from having gripped it so hard. She could barely manage to remain standing as she shuffled out of the way.

"Why don't you go check on Omid?" asked Sarah as she sat down in the driver's seat. "He's really scared right now."

"Oh… okay." Clem walked back to the bedroom, feeling almost like she was in a trance. Stepping inside, she found Omid standing on the bed, his hands pressed against the back window. Clem bellyflopped onto the mattress and started crawling towards him.

"Omid?" said Clem as she came up behind him. "I know you're scared right now, but…" Leaning in closer, Clem noticed Omid didn't look scared anymore. Instead, he was looking out the window with great curiosity as snow flurries kept falling past the plastic that replaced their back window. "You… you don't even know what's happening." Clem let out a weak laugh. "I wish I was you right now."

Clem knelt down and wrapped her hands around Omid, gently stroking his hair while hugging him with her other arm. He didn't even seem to notice, he just kept staring out at the snow. Eventually, a snowflake landed on the window, prompting Omid to try and touch it as planted his palms on the plastic.

"I know what you're thinking," said Clem as she watched the Brave slowly turn around. "You want to go out there." Omid looked distressed as the Brave started picking up speed and the snow became more difficult to see. "I'm sorry Omid, but we're gonna have to stay inside for a while… like, more than we already were."

Clem peeled Omid away from the window and laid down on the bed with him. Holding him made Clem feel warmer and just lying there helped her to relax. Everything had happened so fast it had almost felt like a dream and Clem wished she could just wake up. She's had plenty of bad dreams before, too many. It made it hard to tell when she was awake sometimes.

Omid however was restless, wriggling more and more the longer they lay there, as if he was protesting. Eventually, he pried Clem's hand off and hurried back over to the window.

"We'll go out again sometime," assured Clem as she sat-up. "One day, when it's safe, we'll go out and…" Clem spotted something moving on the road behind them; it was the race car she had seen on the overpass.

"Shit!" Clem grabbed Omid and carried him out of the bedroom. "Sarah, stay away from the bunker!"

"What? We're already—"

"They're coming!"

"Who?"

Before Clem could answer, the distant sound of a loud engine came into earshot. Sarah heard it too and the Brave rolled to a soft stop as they all sat there in silence, wide-eyed with horror. Omid let out a quiet whining sound as that horrible noise drew closer with every passing second. Suddenly, the engine roared in their ears, like a vicious animal howling just outside their door. Omid started crying as Clem set him on the carpet while Sarah kept staring out the windshield, paralyzed with fear.

Clem rushed over and grabbed her mask just in time to see the racer shoot in front of the Brave. She quickly slipped it on as the car spun around in front of them—a predator heading off its prey. Clem and Sarah watched in terror as the racer squealed to a sudden stop. They were petrified as the door swung open and out stepped someone wearing a blue and gold mask, a long rifle clutched in their hands.

"Back up!"

The Brave hurdled backwards on Clem's command so fast it nearly knocked her off her feet. Just as they were swinging around the sound of gunshots rang out followed by horrible metal bangs that seemed to reverberate through the air around them. Clem dove onto the floor where she discovered Omid curled up on the carpet across from her.

"Omid!" yelled Clem as more gunshots and squealing tires filled her ears. "It's okay, it's okay," Clem told herself as she crawled over to him. "It's okay, it's…" Clem hesitated before rolling Omid over, terrified of what she'd find. Moving Omid onto his back, she found him tightly curled up into fetal position, crying softly to himself. Clem carefully examined him, the image of a bloody bullet wound seared into her mind.

"It's… it's okay," repeated Clem, able to force some relief into her voice as she confirmed Omid was uninjured. "It'll be okay Omid," assured Clem as she ran her hand up and down his back. "We'll be… Sarah!" Clem sprung up and ran over to Sarah next, who was still in the driver's seat. She was stiff as a board and her terror-struck eyes were glued to the road, prompting Clem to search her for injuries.

"I… I'm okay," stuttered Sarah, barely able to speak. "I… I'm okay," she repeated, only slightly calmer.

"Thank God," said Clem.

"Who… who was that?"

"I have no idea," answered Clem. "I just saw that car and some others at the overpass. They all had this word on the side of their vehicles; vaquero."

"What does that mean?" asked Sarah.

"I don't know, maybe…" Clem became silent as she heard another engine behind them. Clem and Sarah turned to each other, exchanging looks of sheer panic before Clem raced back to the bedroom. Crawling across the bed, she peered out the back window and saw it; the racer was chasing them.

"Fuck!" Clem raced up to the front. "They're following us!"

"Why?"

"I don't—"

There was a horrible rumbling sound and Clem fell to the floor as the whole vehicle shifted out from under her. Picking herself up, she found Omid crying across from her, his hands clamped over his ears. "It'll be okay!" repeated Clem as she grabbed Omid. "You'll be okay." Clem set Omid beside the couch before pulling the cushions out of it. "Nothing's gonna happen to you." Clem gave Omid a reassuring pat, then carefully piled the cushions around him. "I won't let it." Clem whipped the machine gun off her shoulder and cocked it.

She stood up just in time to see Sarah swerving away from the racer and back onto the road. Peering out the kitchen window, Clem saw just as they were starting to pick up some speed the racer overtook them and slammed into the side of the Brave. The window cracked and this horrible crunching sound filled the air as it felt like whole RV was gonna tip over onto its side for a second. Clem saw Sarah desperately spinning the steering wheel, trying to keep them from spiraling out of control entirely.

"Go faster!" yelled Clem as she turned back to the now broken window.

"I'm going as fast as we can!" yelled Sarah as Clem saw the racer approaching from their left for yet another sideswipe.

"Then… stop!"

"What!"

"Stop! Right now!" The Brave skidded to a very rough stop just as the racer swerved at them. It overshot them and kept going until it skidded off the other side of the road entirely.

"Go, now!" ordered Clem as she ran up to the driver's seat. "Stay on the left side of the road—keep them on our right!"

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

Clem braced herself as she felt the Brave drastically swerve towards the left as they sped past the racer, which was already turning in place in preparation to give chase.

"They're just gonna catch us again!" rambled Sarah. "And—"

"I'm counting on it!" yelled Clem as she moved towards the door.

"What—"

"Just try to keep us straight and go as fast you can." Clem flipped the safety off on her gun and put her left hand on the door's handle. She could hear it, barreling towards them with incredible speed. It was a horrible sound, one that drilled through both of Clem's ears and burrowed down her spine like a malicious parasite with an icy touch, turning the blood in her veins to ice water with its wicked touch. But even over that horrible sound Clem could hear Omid crying in the corner, and that was enough to keep her standing.

The racer zoomed into sight and Clem froze. The sight of it, just past the window on the other side of the door scared her like she hadn't been scared in years; it was almost like seeing a walker up close for the first time all over again. The racer started drifting away, likely setting itself up for another swipe when Clem threw the door open. It swerved closer just as Clem pulled the trigger.

Things almost moved in slow motion as Clem could see every bullet she fired at them. Every little eruption of glass on the windshield, every hole slicing through its metal, every single shot into these bastard's car and hopefully into their fucking hearts as Clem envisioned the people inside being torn apart until they were nothing more than piles of shredded meat rotting in their own bullet-riddled blood-soaked coffin.

The gun clicked loudly as it ran out of ammo and the racer swerved off the road and into a ditch. It disappeared from sight so fast that Clem found herself racing back to the bedroom for a better look. She could see it through the back window, slowing disappearing into the horizon. A rush of elation washed over Clem as she felt victorious, but it soon evaporated with the realization that they were slowing down. Just before the racer would have disappeared over the horizon, the Brave rolled to a stop.

"Why are we stopping?" asked Clem as she ran up front.

"Something's wrong," reported Sarah.

"Something?"

"I don't know, the engine just shut off!" rambled a panicked Sarah.

"Okay, it's okay," assured Clem. "I got them."

"You… you did?" asked Sarah in disbelief.

"Yeah, I shot them full of holes and they crashed their car," spoke Clem, anger boiling over in her voice. "So, just take a breath and we'll fix this."

"Oh… okay." Sarah took a deep breath. She turned the key, and there was nothing, not even the churning of a stubborn engine. "God damnit!"

"It's okay," dictated Clem. "We're okay now, let's just go and… check under the hood."

"I… all right." Clem watched as Sarah stood up, her entire body shaking as she struggled to stand.

"I'll go first and when I say it's okay you come out," instructed Clem, fearful Sarah would shut down entirely if she didn't keep talking to her.

"Be… be careful Clem," mumbled Sarah, her voice sounding a million miles away. Clem marched down the steps and out the already open door. She immediately scanned the horizons. There was nothing of interest in front of them. To their right was a dirt path leading off into some hills covered in trees.

The Brave had stopped at an angle, blocking Clem's view of what was behind them. She dreaded moving closer to where she last saw the racer but forced herself forward anyway. Clem quickly reached the end of the Brave and peeked past the edge. She could still see their pursuers, or what was left of them. It was barely visible but Clem spotted the metal of the racer glinting in the sun; it wasn't moving.

"Okay, come on out." Sarah came racing out of the RV, not even stopping to look at Clem before hurrying over to the front of the Brave. Clem followed after her, arriving just in time to see Sarah pull open the Brave's front panel. Clem wasn't a mechanic but she knew gunshots probably didn't do engines much good. There was only three, but each had left a massive hole puncturing the Brave's various inner workings.

"Can… can you fix it?" asked Clem out of desperation.

"I… um… I… ah…"

"Sarah!"

"I don't know!" she cried before collapsing to her knees. "I… I don't know what to do! I have no idea! I—"

The sound of an engine in the distance cut through Sarah's cries like a knife. The pair raced around to the back of the Brave and peered past the edge. There Clem could see something approaching in the distance. It wasn't the racer, which she could still see in the same position from before, but there was something else now inching forward on the horizon, something bigger.

"It's a school bus." Clem turned her head to see Sarah looking through her rifle's scope. "It's… it's turning, it's moving towards the car."

"They're together, I saw them both on the overpass along with a firetruck and some other stuff."

"So they're… they're gonna kill us!"

"No, we—"

"That's what gonna happen!" yelled out Sarah as she lowered her rifle. "The Brave's dead, and there's no way we can outrun them… they're just gonna drive up to us and shoot us and… oh God… why is this happening to me!" Sarah collapsed onto the pavement. She crumpled onto her side and pulled her knees up to her swollen stomach as she cried out in horror.

"Sarah, get up!" begged Clem as she dropped to her knees. "I need you… I… Omid needs you!"

"Omid?" his name was like a spell that brought Sarah back to her senses.

"We can't give up, we promised to take care of him!" reminded Clem as she knelt down, moving her face closer to Sarah.

"But… what can we do?"

Clem looked away suddenly, unable to answer Sarah's question. They had no Brave anymore, there were no more bullets in the machine gun, they had little chance of fighting off these people just the two of them, and there's no way they could outrun them, especially while carrying Omid. All hope was lost, and Clem collapsed onto her side.

She had fought so hard, for so long, only to die on the side of the road along with the only family she had left. It wasn't fair—none of this was fair, and Clem suddenly turned her gaze skyward, as if to curse out God for what they had done to her. But she didn't, she couldn't, she had no fight left in her anymore. Instead, she just rolled onto her side, and awaited her fate.

Clem felt Sarah's hand around her waist and eagerly grasped it. They had no words left, but at least they knew they were together. Looking out at the forest ahead of them, Clem couldn't help thinking it would have been nice if she could have taken Omid there to play. Just get lost in those woods for a while, away from the rest of this horrible world.

"Wait…"

Clem's eyes moved to the small trail leading up into those woods. Following it with her eyes, it started right here by the road they were on. It was a narrow trail, so narrow that even an off-road car probably wouldn't be able to drive on it, but a bike might. And even without their leaves, Clem couldn't see much through the trees in the distance, meaning the pursuers wouldn't either; it was the only chance they had.

"Get the bikes," said Clem as she stood up.

"The bikes?" repeated Sarah as Clem helped her to her feet.

"Yeah, you still got your backpack on, so you go grab Omid, put him in the bike with the basket, and go that way, into the trees." Clem gestured towards the dirt trail.

"But what are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna stuff my backpack with as much as I can carry and I'll be right behind you."

"But—"

The sound of another engine churning in the distance cut through the air and the pair rushed over to the end of the Brave to investigate. Clem could see the racer was moving now, but not much. Maybe it was stuck or maybe it was having engine troubles too, but it wasn't completely dead yet, and neither were the people who just pulled up in that school bus.

Looking over, Clem saw the bikes and wasted no time. She immediately pulled the red one off the rack, which Sarah quickly rolled back around to the side of the Brave while Clem grabbed the black one. She hurried back to the door and out of sight of their attackers. Sarah was already collecting Omid, lying to him about how it would be okay as she peeled away the couch cushions and collected the trembling child into her arms.

"Pedal fast, they have rifles, and at least one of them is a good shot," said Clem as she raced to the closet. "And don't wait for me," said Clem as she slung her backpack off.

"But—"

"Just go!" Clem turned to Sarah suddenly; she didn't want to leave but Clem kept staring at her until she did. The second Sarah rushed out the door Clem turned back to the closet. She unzipped her pack and slid her arm behind a row of cans, haphazardly knocking them off the shelf; only two cans fell into the pack. She quickly grabbed a few of the ones that fell, tossed them inside, tossed her tomahawk over her shoulder, then raced up front. She was going to leave when she spotted the cabinet hanging over head.

Clem grabbed the stool, hopped on it faster than she had ever before and threw the cupboard open. She tossed Sarah's revolver, her ankle gun, and four boxes of bullets into her bag before the weight nearly dragged her off her stool. Clem hopped down and was gonna zip up her pack, but her eyes fell on the fridge next. She pulled it open, grabbed Sarah's gas mask and raincoat, tossed them into the pack, then tried zipping it up.

The raincoat got stuck in the zipper, preventing Clem from closing it up, but she tossed it over her shoulder anyway. The weight almost dragged Clem onto her back but she caught herself before falling and slipped the other shoulder strap on. Rushing outside, the first thing Clem saw was Sarah, already far off in the distance and heading into the trees; good. Clem was about to get on her own bike, but then she remembered one last thing.

She went over to the compartment nearest the Brave's door and pulled it open; inside was an ammo box containing two hand grenades. Clem immediately stuffed one in her coat pocket but as she grabbed the other one she heard that engine again, the one belonging to the racer. She couldn't forget it. It was like a vicious animal yelling out to announce its presence, and it sounded hungry.

Gripping the other grenade, Clem didn't put in her pocket. Instead, she tipped over the ammo box and shoved it forward until the box was pushing against the grenade. The ammo box was heavy, heavy enough to hold the handle down hoped Clem as so she very carefully pulled the pin. The handle didn't spring off, meaning it should be safe until someone disturbs it, and if it wasn't that was one more reason for Clem to leave.

Just as she hopped onto her bike, Clem caught sight of the height chart running along the Brave's door, one last time; they deserved better. Clem took off pedaling harder than she had ever before and went zooming down the trail. The wind cut at the exposed parts of her face like razors while she gasped for air through her mask. Her legs started to ache, her lungs started to ache, her back began to ache from the weight, her entire body began to ache in pain as it begged Clem to stop.

She struggled to breathe as the bike started wobbling beneath her. Looking over her shoulder, Clem could see them through the trees now, the racer and that school bus rushing closer. They were still far and they were becoming difficult to see, but would Clem be far enough away by the time they reached the Brave? She didn't know, and she couldn't bear to keep watching so she looked ahead instead, turned away from her own impending doom and just kept pedaling.

The trees were getting thicker and even without leaves there was enough of them now they were covering Clem in shadows as she heard the motors of those vehicles race towards where she was just a minute ago. Her legs felt like they were gonna snap off any moment but Clem gritted her teeth and forced them to keep moving. She just wanted to collapse, but she kept telling herself; they'll kill you if you stop. Over and over again; they'll kill you if you stop. They'll kill you if you stop, and Sarah and Omid would be alone.

The trees grew thicker still and the path narrowed to a fraction of its former size, and yet Clem kept pedaling. She knew if there was any way over here that car could cover it in a heartbeat, and she knew it was still out there. She could hear its engine idling in the distance—plotting its next move. Did they spot her as she escaped? Did they know where Clem was going? Were they just thinking of the best way to catch her? Were they arguing about what they wanted to do to her?

Clem's legs gave out and the bike toppled over, taking her with it. She found herself panicking as she felt her leg pinned under the bike and she couldn't easily move thanks to the massive weight she was carrying on her back. She also suddenly realized she was lost, surrounded by dead trees in every direction. There was no trail or path anymore, just a lifeless forest that Clem was terrified she'd become the latest addition to.

Suddenly there was a hand on her neck. Clem managed to pull her pistol from its holster and instinctively aimed it at her attacker, only to find a terrified Sarah looking down the barrel. Clem had to blink her eyes a few times to make sure she wasn't seeing things. She looked over and saw Sarah's hand on her shoulder; it must have only brushed past her neck. Looking back at her, Clem lowered the gun and a relieved Sarah helped to pull the bike off her.

"Thank God you're okay," babbled Clem, what little composure she had left going out the window as she broke down sobbing.

"What about you? Are you okay?" cried Sarah as the pair embraced each other. "Did they hurt you?"

"No," wept Clem. "Where's Omid?"

"Right here." Sarah led Clem to the other bike parked beside a tree. There she found something wrapped tightly in Sarah's jacket trembling in the basket.

"Is he okay?" asked Clem as she started to peel away the jacket.

"I think so, but it's cold out here," announced Sarah. "I don't think it's good for him."

Clem pulled back just enough of the jacket to see Omid's eyes. They were tightly shut and tears were gently rolling down from them as he shivered. "It'll be okay Omid, it—"

A distant eruption rang out with such force it felt like it shook the dirt beneath their feet.

"Oh God, what was that!" yelled Sarah as she spun around in a panic. "They're shooting at us!"

"That wasn't a gunshot." It was the Brave; it was gone. "We need to go—we need to find a house or… something to stay in before it gets dark, before it gets even colder," dictated Clem as she carefully wrapped the sleeve of Sarah's jacket around Omid's head.

"And then what?"

Clem turned and found herself face to face with Sarah, who was desperate for an answer. Clem had none beyond getting back on her bike. All they could do now was move forward and pray there was something waiting for them on the other side of this forest. A thought and a prayer; it's all they had left now.