Chapter Eight
Somewhere on the road, a little earlier…
.
.
.
The carriage was moving slowly. The quality of the dirt road didn't help either; the large holes on the ground, dug out by thick hooves made the wooden cart drop and jump in every few seconds. It was an irritating way to travel and Amy hated it.
The whole thing was uncomfortable to begin with. As if they didn't feel miserable enough already. There were twelve of them sitting on wooden benches, when the place would have been enough for five the most. It's been half an hour since they had left and she already felt her leg give into tingling numbness.
The air was also very stifling. It was a hot day and the over-packed carriage heated up in no time. And the blanket-like thing, they decided to throw over the carriage to protect them from the firing sun, didn't let is escape.
Her only savior was the small hole on the material, near her head. She leant back, closing her eyes and turned her sweaty cheek towards it, enjoying the soothing mild breeze that got through.
Now that she thought back, this was worse part of her day so far. Even the depressing goodbye that they were rewarded with in the early morning was better.
It was a tradition that all the cadets gathered around the carriage, to show their respects as it left, clenching their fist in front of their hearts, saluting the way that they were taught to.
It was a fucking joke.
She couldn't understand how showing their pity was any help. Because it was nothing more. Just pity. It was written all over their faces. There was no exception. The warm smile of Armin's the night before was replaced with the pitiful look that sat on his face during the whole thing. They managed to taint one of her last happy memory and she blamed him for that.
She hated Shadis too. Maybe he was already planning on kicking her out and his comments was just the icing on her cake of failure.
But somehow Jean's words felt like the biggest betrayal she never expected.
She was happy that he permanently disappeared from her life.
So why was she sad when she couldn't find him in the sea of pitiful faces?
She sighed.
This is ridiculous.
She tried to concentrate on the feeling of the light breeze, tickling her skin like a feather. It was pleasant. Maybe if she managed to tune out the smell of sweat, the numbness in her body and the quiet chat, braced with heavy sobs, she would find peace.
That hope disappeared when one boy sitting in front of her started to talk to her.
It was an alluring thought to simply ignore him. She was sure that he would give up after a few tries.
But as much she craved the silence, she opened her eyes and peered at him.
It was a familiar face with an unfamiliar expression on his face. She remembered talking with him once in the beginning, but their ways parted after that. He was a pretty smiling short boy, covered in freckles behind his ridiculous curly red hair.
Now however his smile was just a thing of the past. All that remained was sweat and grim.
"I remember you... You are Amy, right?"
She nodded, not really feeling like talking. If she opened her mouth her thirst would only worsen. She silently cursed herself for drinking so little before the ride. And she cursed the others for drinking all the water given to them in the first minutes.
"You don't remember me" he mumbled turning his head away.
"I do" she mumbled back. "But I forgot your name. I'm sorry."
There was a sad silence.
"It's okay. I'm Tommy. We've talked once."
She nodded again, wondering if she could close her eyes.
"But we ended up in different barracks" he continued, stopping between words whenever the carriage entered a bigger hole. "You with the big ones."
Amy furrowed her brow.
"Big ones?"
"Yeah, that barrack was quite famous. Funny how the top ten out of three hundred ended up under the same roof."
"Ah."
Big ones? Besides Mikasa and maybe Reiner she didn't find any of them so exceptional to call them the "big ones". They were good alright, but were they actually considered that outstanding? How weak everyone else was then?
She didn't pay much attention to the other drop outs sitting next to her, but she finally took a look.
And they were weak.
She suddenly felt out of place, seeing their scrawny built. They were mostly short, without any noticeable muscle. Some of them still cried like a little child.
She had muscles. She had a healthy body. She didn't cry.
She was stronger than them.
And still, she sat in the same cart.
She was an outcast too.
It was unfair to label her the same.
Ridiculous.
Unjust.
Preposterous.
She was much stronger.
With that, her disappointment and sadness vanished into thin air.
Her self-pity was replaced with anger.
And in that moment the carriage broke down.
The left rear-wheel gave up fighting. It cracked under the weight of children and broke in half.
They climbed out of the carriage, one by one, stepping into the ray of light. Amy was one of the last ones who escaped the suffocating wooden box.
She stumbled a little; the sudden change of brightness darkened her vision, making her momentarily dizzy. But it didn't last long and her sight was sharp as ever when the carriage's driver examined the damage.
"Ah, for fuck's sake… you've got to be kidding me!"
He was talking to no one in particular.
The driver was a middle-aged rounded man with a curtain-like dark brown beard that only ran around his wide chin before it merged into his sideburns. He scratched it vehemently, most likely in frustration before letting out another colorful line of curses.
It wasn't hard to tune out him too. Amy sat down in the yellowish grass and let her fingers run through it. She remembered doing this back when she was a little child. Her memories were faint, but she still felt the rough hands of her father as he gently set her down in the middle of their tiny garden. It was mostly just grass and weed. They couldn't afford any flower seeds, but his father still seemed to enjoy spending time in it.
They usually just sat in there, watching as her chubby little hands grasped the soft grass and tore it out. And her father let her. She was at the age of destroying, breaking and tearing, kicking and punching.
But whenever she reached for the weeds a big hand would envelope her small one.
"Don't hurt the flowers, sweetie" he would always say.
Amy sighed for the umpteenth time. The grass between her fingers was dry; it wasn't even fun to tear it out. So she just kept combing it, ignoring the tickling feeling of the ant that managed to climb up on her moving hand.
"Well aren't you all so fucking comfortable? How about lending a hand?"
Amy looked at the man, who was now standing with a freshly dug out spare wheel in his hands. She remembered seeing it lying around in the carriage with some other stuff. No wonder they had no free space.
"You!" he shouted. "Big girl! Come and help me put this on."
Not really feeling like entering an argument she silently stood up and walked to the man. She took the offered wheel out of his hands, while the driver leaned down to take off the remaining pieces of the broken one. Letting out a groan he stood up just as quickly.
"Hold on."
The man took off his brown jacket and threw it on the ground. It was a bit shabby, but the roses were still visible.
"Garrison" she thought out loud. The man in question looked up with an unkind look.
"What about it?"
"What are you doing here?"
"What does it seem like?"
"Aren't you supposed to guard the Wall?"
The driver looked around.
"Do you see a Wall here?"
"…no."
"Then I'm not guarding the fucking Wall."
Amy bit back the remark on the tip of her tongue and stayed silent. In the meantime the man started to loosen the straps of his gear and stepped out of it.
"Isn't that against regulations?" she muttered.
"How about I don't get lectured by a drop out about the rules of military?" he scoffed back, making Amy slightly flinch. "I can't crouch in this fucking thing, the straps are strangling me."
"Well, maybe if you weren't so fucking fat, they wouldn't do that."
Expecting a fierce glare or belittling she was surprised when the man snorted with laughter. "Ah, you little punk. Nice to see someone with balls. There are eight guys here but I've seen none."
He bundled up his gear and threw it at her, followed by his jacket which landed on her head due to the wheel which still occupied her hands. Luckily the swords didn't fly her way; he just cautiously put them on the growing pile. "Put these on my seats in the front."
The malice from his voice was gone, but it was still an order. She did as he asked and set down his gear and swords next to his flask and carved bone horn.
Her throat dried at the sight of the flask. Taking a quick look around her eyes fixated on it again.
She was in no one's line of sight. The carriage hid her from everyone.
And the horses surely wouldn't tell…
She couldn't decide if she should do this quickly or very cautiously, but she picked up the flask nonetheless. With clumsy fingers she twisted the lid and took a big gulp before her brain could react to the strong smell oozing from it.
She didn't know what it was, but it was way too strong for her. Resisting the urge to spit it out she swallowed it with a hiss.
This was a bad idea.
The inside of her mouth and throat was burning and her thirst wasn't satisfied the least. If anything, it worsened.
She put the flask back the way it was before walking back to Garrison. She didn't know his name and didn't care enough to ask, so she decided to stick with this.
Garrison's shirt was drenched in sweat. The generally white shirt darkened at most places and became slightly see-through. If she looked hard enough she could see the red markings of the 3DMG, which left its memory on his skin permanently.
Not realizing she was staring, Garrison's deep voice startled her.
"Don't just stand there, punk. Help me."
Feeling a bit guilty about the drink she obeyed without any objection. She only needed to assist him though. Give him this, give him that, hold this, hold that. After a few minutes her shirt was drenched as well.
Comfort-wise, she would have rather sat in the grass, but being helpful made her somewhat feel better. Even though Garrison kept treating her like some slave.
"Yes!" he triumphed. The old wheel was fully replaced. "About fucking time. Alright punk, you've been a pretty handy subordinate so I will forgive you for snipping my brandy. But do that again without my permission and you will be pulling the cart alongside the horses, got it?"
As Amy eyes widened Garrison tapped his nose.
"You can't fool this. You've been pretty much stinking of it ever since."
Before Amy could say a word Garrison already dismissed her. He put away the things he worked with while talking at the top of his voice.
"Okay, nap time over! Get back on, kids and let's get fucking going already!"
With that, Garrison trudged back to his seat and sat down with a yawn. Amy heard bones crackling while he stretched. It seemed he won't bother putting his gear back on. He actually seemed half asleep when he took the reins into his hands.
Climbing back to that pit of hell was a pain. Luckily enough no one took her seat or more importantly her breathing hole.
Her stomach growled the moment she nestled down, already feeling her limbs protesting. It was around breakfast time and she missed yesterday's dinner as well dinner due to her lack of appetite.
It didn't take her five minutes to fell asleep to Garrison's even snoring.
A/N:
Thanks for reading!
First of all, thank you for all the kind reviews and encouraging words! They really do mean a lot to me, you guys are just too nice!
About this chapter: I planned this chapter to be about twice as long, but I decided to cut it here, because I'm still not satisfied with the other half.
I hope it wasn't boring… I know there is no Jean here and literally only OCs appear... In case you found yourself skipping paragraphs please tell me, and I will try to write in a more engaging/enjoyable way. So criticism is most welcomed!
As always English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes I made.
Wish you all the best!