Long Road Ahead of Mark

Special thanks to backfromthedead91 and purplepox63010! Keep up the reading! I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

Hunger knaws heartedly at my senses. Yes, we do have food, but no amount of edible substance could fill my stomach. Constantly I could not evade the hunger that seems to meet me at every corner. Looking into a piece of shattered mirror, I could see the dullness of my once lively eyes. My features are turning gaunter and shadowed each passing day. As Carley would say, I'm a 'walking skeleton'.

Lee regularly sees that I receive my rations. Absolutely no amount of food I was feed could ebb the painful hunger, for reasons unknown. My shoulders have long since healed but a patch of white marks the damage inflicted on me by the bandits.

Every sleeping moment is filled to the brim with nightmares. Of the St. Johns' Dairy Farm, my death place, the last moments I suppostively spent on this earth. The nightmares would always end the way it all began. My ultimate painful death created by the St. Johns' gleaming weapons. Cold sweat would lap me like a second skin. Every. Single. Night. A scream would emit itself from me the moment I pull myself from the depths of my haunting nightmares.

Clementine's face would always materialize first. In every single instant, she'd be the first to lead the group into my lodging. Even after the fact that the others stopped coming.

A thought always nags at the back of my brain as I experience the seemingly never ending nightmares, or never ceasing hunger. Should I have died a second time at the hands of the St. Johns'? Should I have prevented Lilly's incorrectly written death?

The strange thing is, the first go around, Lilly wasn't injured. It isn't pure coincidence. Larry hadn't traveled up the hill with his daughter. They had been with the others. They hadn't been lagging behind. It just doesn't add up. It's ironic really. Lee and I went out; I come back with an injury that leads me to my untimely death. Lilly and Larry went out and return with an injury that leads to her death. Something, whatever it is, isn't right.

Taking a deep breath, I shift my glasses in my hands in order to observe the world in its natural blurry bubble. Lines fade away as the colors run together like paint. Distances are subtracted until the farthest I can make out is a few yards in front of me, maybe less. The small perception bubble seems to sway and bounce each time I take a step. A wobbling cloud of pink, black, white, and purple approaches. A face glues itself together like broken shards. Squinting, black lines begin separating distinguishable features. Bright brown eyes peer up at me, shadowed by the brim of her cap. Fumbling with my glasses, I shove the, back to cover my failing eye sight.

"Hey Mark, can you drawl a plane for my picture? I'm not sure exactly how they look." Clementine questions, shifting the chalk in her hands.

"Sure." I ignore the inevitable and nagging lack of sleep dragging at my brain and the pang of hunger in order to approach the cemented area Clementine qualifies as her picture.

"Drawl it above okay?" She places a piece of worn white chalk into my hands.

I look at the space provided and push the chalk to asphalt. I call upon the memories that remind me so much of the home I used to know. A field of polished aircrafts, awaiting the journey that'll take them and their pilot into the clouds. Echoing laughter joins, one I could recognize anywhere.

"Hey Mark, ain't she a pretty?" A soft pat that creates resonating echoes begins to sing in my ears.

"Where did something as slick as this arrive Dax?" It was my voice, upbeat and friendly.

Dax chuckles, "As far as you can travel with only the amount of gas you got in your plane."

"So everywhere?"

"Ambitious. When you fly everywhere, inform me alright? I can tell them stories of how during our training I had to wipe your glasses clean because it was so humid." Together, we laugh at the fond memory.

The asphalt and chalk blur like I have been deprived once again of my glasses. Voices are muffled as though as water is filling my ears, plunging me into yet another memory, more dire than the last.

"How is Dax's fighter?" I was urgent, prowling the hanger for any scrap of news I could find.

"What's even going on in Savannah, Mark?" The pilot turns his head to me, expecting an answer.

"I don't-" I attempt to respond, but was swiftly cut off by a voice more urgent than my own.

"The fighters are down! When they landed in Savannah, they were attacked! B-by…" The messenger's words were bubbling out faster than most could comprehend, explaining the reason behind his ashy face.

"Attacked by what?" Dax could get out. He would be safe.

"Dead humans!"

Voices, heavily pounding in my ears, release me from the memories sucking at my thoughts.

"Mark!"

"Don't break his glasses! Give them here Duck; you can't hold them like that!"

"Kat, what should we do?"

"Kenny I'm working on it. Everyone, please stand back."

"Mommmmmm, is he dead?"

"Clementine, Duck, how about you come play over here with Ben."

"Play what?"

"Come up with something Ben."

"I have to hold his glasses."

"I'll hold them for you Clem."

"Don't break them Lee!"

"I promise I won't sweet pea. Now go play with Ben and Duck."

Feet resonate against the pavement fade with each step farther away. With enough willpower applied, I force my eyes to flutter open.

The white blotted sky is the background to the bubbles of faces hovering above me. The light peaks out behind a cloud momentarily blinding my unshielded eyes before it is clothed again in ivory. My glasses are pressed into place for me, allowing me to distinguish lines once again. Lee, Carley, Kenny and Katjaa lean over my body in a circle of faces, anxiously waiting for any word to be spoken by me.

"What happened…?" I groan when the hunger and sleepiness return at full relentless force.

"You like, blacked out or something." Kenny shakes his head, clueless about the reason why.

"We came running when we heard Clementine yelling." Carley adds, turning to watch the children play with a less enthusiastic Ben.

"What do you believe happened Mark?" Katjaa asks quietly, searching my face for answers.

"I was just remembering things…And lost consciousness…"

"By any chance is that what happened to you at the farm?" Lee deduces.

"Yeah…."

"Well you are lucky. You didn't hit your head or anything," Katjaa notices, "Just be a tad bit more careful alright?"

"Sure thing Kat." I hope I can do such a thing, but I'm on the same page as everyone. I have no idea what's going on. It's like the power of my memories could knock me senseless. That's just not possible.

Coming back to life isn't possible either, a voice reminds me. With that in mind, anything could be possible.

Kenny shakes his head for the second time at the false alarm. He seems to be doing that a lot lately.

"I better get back to guard duty." He says, walking for the pastel bulk called a RV.

Carley walks away as well, leaving myself, Katjaa, and Lee.

"Can I tell you both something?" Katjaa confides, turning to make sure no one was looking our way. Once she confirms clearance, she turns back for an answer.

"You can tell us anything Katjaa." Lee supports.

My stomach growls like it is answering for me as I sit up. The others take no notice.

"I've been keeping track of supplies lately and it seems like some things have gone missing. Do you know anything about it?" She asks.

I shrug. I have no idea who would be taking stuff. Since Lilly and Larry's untimely death, I haven't really pinned any worry on someone specifically. Besides, my mind is still ringing from the exhausting and painful memory of my past. I can't even think of a logical suspect, let alone an answer.

I can feel the sleepiness trying to shut my eyes like two hands. Fighting against it, I drowsily sway to a standing position.

"I can check it out," Lee watches me like he is afraid I'll fall over, "While you get some sleep."

I am about to object, but Katjaa cuts in, "That's a wonderful idea Lee. You need to rest Mark."

There's no denying it. But sleep is no longer a blissful realm to retreat to with the unceasing nightmares. There's no guarantee that I'll get even a wink of sleep. I'm not about to argue my case that has so many holes imbedded in the facts. With a sigh, I escape to my room.

I am so caught up in a merry-go-round of self-pity, I don't notice anything else besides the immediate area surrounding me. The hard, squeaky mattress that protests against my weight. The lightless room, swallowing me into the darkness. The constant ruckus of the children outside, their shrieks of joy reminding me of the St. Johns' swing set. Shaking the horrid memory away, I continually focus on anything I can hear.

Every noise runs together like a sound track, numbing my senses to the point where I'm about to drift off…

Until the gun fire starts.

It cuts through my exhaustion and hunger like a butcher's knife, driving me to my feet in a matter of seconds. The familiar rush of adrenaline floods into my veins, increasing the rhythm of my heart to the point that I thought it will burst from my chest. Rushing for the door, I burst out into the motel's parking lot.

Clementine's mural is smeared with foot prints, erasing lines and making all color run together as one. A serenade of clicks drawls me away from the ruined portrait.

Bandits.

Bandits, clad in similar outfits to the duo that fought before we reached the dairy farm. Bandits, who nailed me in the shoulder with an arrow and forever left an imprint of my skin. The same bandits who unintentionally ended my life forever are holding our group, minus Lee hostage.

They are calling to one another, speaking so quietly that the steady thump of my heart beat drowns them out. Pushing my glasses up, I lick my lips as my mouth suddenly goes cotton-dry in fear.

Is it the end?

But the Save-Lot Bandits aren't focused on me. They don't even see me. They are too busy following Lee's movements through a scope when he approaches the group slowly. He could never talk his way out of this. After seeing the consequences of doing so, I have to do something. So, I turn around and run straight back into my room.

Somehow, I have played a card of Luck. The gun I have in my possession, resting against the wall of my bed side, is a hunting rifle with a scope. Grapping the weapon by its strap, I use the darkness of my room as a concealer. Shutting the door so only a crack of light pours through; I press my barrel through the space and aim. This time, I'm determined not to miss. The adrenaline overloads my senses, shaking my body. But with a steady hand, I aim the gun and with no faults precisely hit a bandit in the forehead.

The group reacts almost instantaneously to the distraction. While the younger members and their respective guardians run for the safety of cover, Carley pulls out her weapon, killing several bandits before ducking down behind cover with Ben.

I bolt for the RV, the same place Lee and Kenny are heading for when the Save-Lot Bandits call for backup. Katjaa trembles behind her choice of cover, holding Duck close and whispers soft words to Clementine.

"We have to get out of here! Lee, Mark, get the others into the RV! I'll get the thing working!" Kenny orders, slamming the vehicle's door into its side when he enters.

I don't decide who to save. My body instinctively chooses for me, racing for the right side of the RV. Seeing this, Lee goes to the left without another word. I'm now faced with three lives, clutched in the palm of my hand. I am the deciding factor to whether they die or not. Just like when my life was on the line. The look of terror in each of their eyes clarifies my will.

I will save Clementine, Duck, and Katjaa.

With my gun clenched tightly in my hands, I grit my teeth as Clementine cries out in fear. Katjaa shelters both children in her arms, ducking to avoid on coming bullets and arrows. The bandits make their way to the defenseless trio, leaving themselves open for attack.

Aim for the head. I tell myself as more reinforcements pour into the motel. I fire a shot, knocking the man off the fence line as though as I have shoved him off. A bandit, crawling to close to the fragment of my group for my liking, is quickly finished off before he had time to react.

"Once you see an opening, run to me!" I call over the steady melody of bullets, only satisfied when I see Katjaa nod her head.

I continue to pick off each bandit as they compromise there positions. Calling upon my military experience, I finish off the last life like I am blowing out a candle. However, my experience is not the only thing that is being dug up.

"Think you can keep up?" I turn to look, seeing that smiling face.

He looks the same as the day he left. Nothing has changed. All the familiarity threaded in his personality is still as lively as ever.

Dax.

"Whatcha gawking at Mark? Too scared to keep going?" His words pierce me like an arrow. I search for Katjaa as a sickening realization takes effect.

My blood runs cold as I see it instead. The bandits have left several openings in our walls, leaving us vulnerable to the walkers who stumble in. We have alerted them.

The RV gives a lurch, finally heeding to Kenny's command to turn on.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" He screeches, clutching the steering wheel to the point that I thought for sure it would break.

Clementine runs for me, tripping on her own haste and is sent sprawling to the ground in the view of all the walkers that are taking over the motel. Killing a walker nearby, I begin to wonder about the things that never can be answered. Did this happen when I was dead?

Katjaa whispers hurriedly to Duck, something along the lines of 'stay close to me', before taking off for the RV. She scoops Clementine up in her arms and with Duck staggering behind her, completes the stretch of asphalt that has separated us. Before I can insure their safety, I am shoved into the vehicle. In three second flat, Kenny wheels out of the parking lot, leaving the rest of us to cling to the interior.

I suddenly could feel the hunger deplete and the exhaustion vanish as though as the adrenaline high had healed me. Something pulls me, directing my vision to the rear window like the explanation could be found there.

Crying out with a muted voice, the figure reaches for the fleeing RV

My throat tightens, sealing my only voice. The same thing that guided me to look back, directs me not to speak. And for some unspeakable reason, I listen.

We drive down the cemented road in a desperate escape until Duck is nothing more than an ant scurrying for cover.

How could Kenny and Katjaa not know this?!

First three people to review for this chapter get a free virtual PS3! XD

-Soul Spirit-