Thank you to all who have continued to review and favorite this story. It might be a few days before I update again, just because work has called me out of town yet again. Cape Canaveral here I come!
Anygay... I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but here it is.
And please continue to review. The more you review, the more pumped up I get about writing this. Yes. I am that self-absorbed. It's true.
The second bullet ensured that Chase would not rise, that his death would not be desecrated by the T-virus.
It was the final insult to the cowboy who had been genial, good-natured if not sarcastic in life. In death, he was still her friend, still the man that she man that she remembered, until Claire placed a bullet in the middle of his forehead. If the brain and spinal cord were left intact, he would reanimate; his legs and arms and mouth moving of their own volition, he would become one of the Infected, attacking those he had spent the past five years protecting, surviving with. She owed it to him not to allow that to happen.
The bullet left a tidy hole in his brow, but as the bullet tore and scythed through skull and brain and skin to hit the ground beneath him, it punched a gaping hole in the back of his head.
Claire had pulled the three bodies from where they had fallen to line up next to lay next to one another. While she was still alone, she scavenged blankets from the tanker truck and wrapped the corpses, covered their faces. No one else should have to see their friends slain and mutilated if they did not have to, and she would not be able to bury the bodies alone.
She saved Mikey for last, spreading out the old woolen military-issue woolen blanket out on the ground before rolling his body onto it. She wrapped him gently, tenderly as if he was merely sleeping and she did not want to wake him. Smoothing his blond curls from his forehead, she let her hand rest there for a moment. She had already said good-bye, but it still took several moments for her to cover his face, not quite willing to let go yet.
There was not time to mourn. No time to think of the calm acceptance in Mikey's eyes when he pressed his pistol in her hand. No time to grieve the loss of three good men who had helped Claire hold this convoy together for years.
No. There were duties to attend to, work to be done. The rest of the convoy did not need to see her lose her composure, go to pieces. She had to show them that they were strong, could hold it together. This would not destroy them. The convoy needed leadership, someone to guide them through their grief, to convince them not to give up.
After LJ, Chase, and Mikey were buried under the desert sands where they had died, Claire immediately set about reorganizing the convoy. The sun was up by then, and they needed to get moving again, away from this place, this gravesite.
She assigned Carlos to drive the tanker truck. They would still need it to store fuel. Carlos was the most capable of driving the massive eighteen-wheeled truck. But that left the media van without a driver now that Mikey was dead. It could not be left behind. It contained all their electronic equipment, their perimeter monitoring system, their radios. She assigned Alice to drive it, at least for the day, until she could figure out a better course of action. There were other adults in the convoy she would ask, once the shock of yet another loss wore off.
Alice accepted the assignment with a curt nod, her silent protest was unspoken, but still clear in her eyes.
When she had first joined the convoy, Claire had expected Alice to chafe at being under someone else's leadership, and Claire had made utterly clear to explain that this was her convoy, her responsibility. But despite being obviously accustomed to being in charge herself and being a natural leader, Alice had seamlessly assimilated into the group. Though both women were alphas, leaders, Alice seemed unthreatened by Claire and did not trespass on her authority. When others came to Alice for instruction, she always deferred to Claire. She was the first to lend her agreement and support to whatever instructions or plans Claire put out; their disagreements were always private, so it never appeared that she was undermining Claire's authority.
But Claire had expected her to buck under this order nonetheless and was surprised when she did not.
Camp was broken, vehicles were loaded, comrades were buried.
They traveled only half a day, until they found an isolated gas station where they could make camp. The convoy was still drifting aimlessly since Las Vegas. Had that been only yesterday that they were there? Everyone could use more rest while they decided what to do.
The convoy quickly set about their duties. Claire and Alice cleared the actually gas station. There were no Infected present, thankfully. Carlos checked the station's reservoirs for gasoline. K-mart led the other children in a scavenger hunt for canned goods or other items they might be able to use while the rest of the adults tended to the vehicles or found wood for the evening campfires and set up the outer perimeter.
The fires had crackled to life as dusk began to bruise the sky, and what remained of the lieutenants of Claire's convoy gathered in the back of the media van.
There were so few of them now that the back of the van had more than enough space for a meeting. It was down to Carlos and Claire and Alice now. K-mart had refused to be left alone, so now she sat next to Alice.
"Well, the good news is, I was surprised at how much gas there was still in the reservoirs." Carlos began, scratching his beard. "More than we have scored in a single place in a very long time."
"How much is that?" Claire asked, preparing to do the mental calculations.
He thought for a moment. "The capacity of the tanker is 6,000 gallons. I think there is about enough to fill it a quarter full. But I won't know for sure until we manage to pump it all out of the reservoir." He nodded, as if agreeing with his own estimate.
"That's 1,500 gallons. That might be enough to get us to Alaska." Alice pointed out, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. Glacier blue eyes sought out Claire's.
"I don't want to risk getting stranded in the middle of some of the most isolated land in North America because we "might" have enough to get us there." Claire said neutrally. "And we can't risk hitting a big city again either. We don't have the manpower now."
"So we just give up?" K-mart interjected incredulously. "Quit before we even really tried?" Normally, she wasn't a part of these discussions, but she did not let that stop her from adding her opinion. Claire was initially annoyed by the teenager's audacity, but something else vied for dominance. Pride, she realized with a faint smile. How much had the little girl grown up in the years since they had found her alone and scared in a K-mart parking lot? When had she stopped being a child and become an adult with her own opinions and ideas? That was something at least, something good to hold onto.
"No, we just need more fuel."
"And food." Carlos scratched his beard. It was an unconscious habit whenever he was thinking. "Even if we get there, we won't have enough to last very long."
"So where can we get enough food and fuel to last us that isn't a big city?"
The van was silent while they thought.
"A military installation." Alice finally said.
Claire frowned. "Why?"
"Military bases are built to be defensible and self-sustaining." Carlos answered for her, his eyes widening. "They would have several fuel pumps. Their supply warehouse would have MREs. But what makes you think they haven't already been raided? Wouldn't the soldiers take everything when they left?"
Alice shook her head. "They couldn't take everything. MREs are incredibly bulky. Each box has 12 MREs, each pallet has twenty boxes. We could fit two, maybe two and a half pallets onto the deuce and a half. Their warehouses are huge. Unless they had a convoy of a hundred trucks, they couldn't empty it. Besides," Her lips formed a thin line, a wry smirk. "There probably weren't enough people left to take it all."
"And civilians wouldn't know where to look to scavenge. Every damn military building looks the same," Carlos added, his accent thickening just slightly with excitement. "It's a good idea, Claire."
Nodding her agreement, Alice held her hands out to Claire, palms up, a conciliatory gesture. "It's your call, Claire."
The camp was quiet.
The normal fires burned in defiance of the chill breath of the night. The survivors huddled in small circles next to their vehicles, throwing dice or speaking in hushed tones, mumbled whispers. Forced normalcy had settled over the group like a linen bandage over a wound. Everyone tried to conduct their nightly activities as usual, but no one's heart was in it. Even eating the nightly meal was an affair undertaken with half-hearted effort.
It had hit everyone hard, but they talked about anything, everything else. There was a false sense of calm. During the day there had been distractions, when night fell there was nothing left to fill the vacuum left by the dead. They had buried three of their comrades that morning, pillars of the convoy, but no one wanted admit it, talk about it, remember it. Talking about it made the reality much more tangible, much more unbearable.
The Hummer's rear door was swung open, and Claire sat in the back, her arms wrapped loosely around her knees, feet resting on the rear bumper. She didn't have her hat on, or her usual button down shirt, despite the cool night. Her shoulders and arms were bare against the night chill. She stared sightlessly into the camp, at those who still sat outside their vehicles.
Death. Loss. With all her duties tended to, there was nothing keeping the numbness of grief at bay. She had agreed to head towards the nearest military installation, Fort Lewis in Washington, but it seemed hopeless.
When they had buried Mikey and LJ and Chase, no one had offered any final words, any prayers or stories or memories. Not even Claire. It hurt too much to remember them as they had been in life; she could not give it voice or she would break. But alone, she remembered them. Every smile and laughter they had shared, their words of wisdom, LJ's insane stories and lies about his life, Mikey's insistence that they keep searching for other survivors, never give up hope.
She punished herself with these memories and the memories of the others. Otto, Betty, Micah, Tiffany… there were so many, but she forced herself to remember them all. Each of their deaths was an individual blow, a personal failing. They had been her people to protect, and she had failed each one of them. She bore the burden of each of their deaths separately. None was more important than the other. She had a duty that she had failed to perform. What was more, each of these people were friends, and she had broken the promise of their friendship by allowing them to die.
Once, she had been a college student. Her biggest concern was making it through finals or applying for financial aid. She had been happy and idealistic; she wanted to be a veterinarian, help people, help animals. Her brother had been her hero, though they had only saw each other on holidays since he joined S.T.A.R.S. in Raccoon City.
She did not know if he had even survived. The young Claire that always smiled, that loved animals and laughing and softball games on Sunday afternoons with her friends, had not survived. People were not the only things that the T-virus killed. Innocence, happiness, youth had all been victims of the Infection.
The young version of Claire, who knew nothing of violence or leading others to survival, whose only real loss had been her grandparents when she had been too young to understand the finality or devastation of death, was gone.
Her grief was as raw as a physical wound. Anguish wound its constricting fingers around her heart and chest, but she refused to let the tears that pricked her eyes fall. Tonight, she felt the agony of loss. Not just of Mikey and Chase and all the others she had failed to protect, but the loss of her younger self, a young woman she had failed as surely as any of her friends.
Alice approached from the media van. She had handed the keys and responsibility of the vehicle to Joel, whom Claire had decided would be in charge of it from now on. Suddenly, she regretted making that decision tonight. Alice could have stayed with the van at least one more night; Claire wanted to be alone.
Instead of going straight to her, Alice rounded the side of the SUV and retrieved one of the sleeping bags from the back seat. She unzipped it as she made were way back to the strawberry-blonde woman and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Claire did not acknowledge her, did not break her gaze from the night sky. Removing her duster, Alice cast it over the rear door of the Hummer before sitting next to Claire, and was silent for several minutes.
"It isn't your fault."
Claire's jaw tightened, but she still didn't look at Alice. "Oh no?" she asked wryly. "I was responsible for them."
"But you aren't responsible for what happened to them." Alice shrugged and said simply, as if she were observing something so obvious it need not be stated.
Finally, Claire whipped her head to the side to face her, green eyes furious with unshed tears. "They depended on me. They were my people!" She hissed through clenched teeth. If anyone knew her guilt, understood her feelings, it should be Alice.
"And you didn't kill them!" Alice replied with a ferocity that was equal to Claire's though it was quieter, wrought by conviction rather than grief. "You'll probably always feel guilty about it. I know I do." A cool breeze tousled Claire's hair, blowing strands of strawberry blonde into her face. Tentatively, Alice reached out, brushed them aside, her voice more gentle. "But you still have a responsibility to those of us still alive. We're depending on you. And if you don't have to keep this bottled inside; it will break you. You don't have to do this alone. Carlos, K-mart, me… we're all here for you."
Abruptly, Claire turned her gaze away, the urge to lean into Alice's touch was too overwhelming. She was suddenly so tired. "No matter what I do, it never seems enough." She said finally, giving voice to her true feelings for the first time. She did not have the energy to fend Alice off, to push her away with denials of grief or brush her off by telling her she was fine. "I can never beat the Infection. We are surviving, but how can I protect them when everything in this world is conspiring to kill us, when all that's left is death and violence and destruction. How can we survive that?"
There was a weighted pause as Alice considered what Claire said. She pointed up at the sky, to the dark night that hung above them. "Do you see that star? The really bright one." Claire looked where she pointed and nodded when she spotted the star that Alice meant. "Just look at it a minute."
Claire did.
It was a bright star, though maybe not the brightest, peaking out behind the few clouds that had gathered. It twinkled white against the purple black sky, like a diamond against black velvet. The beauty of it contrasted with the barren, forsaken desert.
"There are places that the darkness cannot touch." Alice whispered. "The shadow of this world is only a small thing that will pass in time; there will always be light and beauty forever beyond its reach." Alice was gazing up at the star as well, as if seeing it gave her great comfort.
Claire felt it, a shaft of warmth piercing the cold. But then she lowered her eyes to the earthly desolation surrounding her. "They depended on me. How do I beat back the shadow? I've failed so many times."
"You do the best you can. You don't have to do it alone."
"No," Claire shook her head; K-mart might not be a child any longer, but she was still too young to hear of Claire's misgivings, her hopelessness. And Carlos… men did not understand emotions in the same way as their female counterparts. She had to hold it together, be confident even if she wasn't, for the good of the convoy. They needed someone they could depend to, look to for guidance and strength in times like these.
The ghost of a touch whispered on Claire's cheek, firmed as Alice cupped her face with a small, delicate hand, turning Claire's face towards her. It was intimate, but not romantic.
Claire had managed to keep herself composed the entire night, even though she could not shake the image Mikey's face, so open with adoration even as Claire squeezed the trigger. Or the image of the fresh graves they had buried their comrades in. Or the sound of the killing shot being fired.
But the older woman's touch, the warmth of her palm against her cheek had undone her. She squeezed her eyes shut but tears still slipped through unbidden. When she opened her eyes and spoke, her voice did not quaver. "I have to be strong for them."
Alice shook her head and hesitated, her expression contorted with pain and conflict. "You don't have to be strong for me."
The first sob came as if the tears were frozen, and Claire felt herself be immediately gathered into Alice's arms. She wept for Mikey, wept that she had been the one to kill him. She wept for Chase and LJ and Otto and Betty. She wept for the nameless victims of the T-virus, for the loss of everything that seemed to be good in the world. She wept for the death of the world, for the world she had grown up in that K-mart would never know. She wept for herself. She wept for the love she could not allow herself.
The forced numbness that Claire so meticulously maintained shattered and bled hot, consuming anguish.
In Alice's arms, pressed against the subtle, slender curves of the other woman, she mourned the loss of everything she had never allowed herself to grieve in half a decade, allowing all of her fears and failures rise to the surface. She wept for the both of them.
And in Alice's arms, she made herself utterly vulnerable, stripped naked of every wall and barrier she had built to protect herself, yet she felt safe. Her head cradled to Alice's chest, encircled by strong arms, she wept for all the beauty of the stars, and it was okay.
I am torn by which I like more, the ending of this chapter or the beginning of the last chapter. I've been trying something new with each chapter of this story, which is really obscure and nerdy, but maybe I'll tell y'all about it when the story is finished.
Please review!