"Who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?"
Chapter Three
"They have a doctor, they gotta have stuff for stitches." Clementine grumbled, skidding on mud. There was something unnerving about walking around at night. The walkers become more active after dark. It was rarely worth the risk, so most of the traveling and scavenging was done during the nine-to-five hours.
Clementine crept up to the window. Rebecca and Alvin appeared to be bickering. Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest and said something like, "I need some air." She left the room, leaving Alvin on the edge of the bed looking at his hands.
On impulse she tapped on the window pane. He raised his head, eyes going wide as he registered her sheepish grin through the glass. He opened the window. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I need your help," she said.
"Me? No... I'm sorry, but I can't do nothin'."
She shifted to a crouch, refusing to be shooed away."Please, I need to fix my arm."
"Are you out of your mind? Even if you ain't bitten by some lurker - which you probably are! - you can't be here!" He looked over his shoulder a the door. "Look, you gotta get out of here, you understand? Get back in that shed and Carlos will take care of you in the morning."
"You'd just let me die?" She blurted out. Alvin's eyes grew wide, then frowned. "I wouldn't let you do nothin'. It's not my call. We're a group."
"But you could help. And if you don't, isn't that the same?"
He rubbed the back of his neck."Look, you gotta get before my wife comes back. We got enough problems already. We got a baby on the way and Becca's all emotional...
Clementine's eyes glistened. "Please help. Please."
Alvin looked intensely uncomfortable. "Aw, n-no. Don't do that...""
"I'm not crying," Clementine sniffed. "I'm just so tired."
He sighed deeply. "You're ... Not with Carver?"
There was that name again. "Huh? No."
"And you didn't get bit by a dead person?"
"No." Clementine said. "I'll do anything I can to help your situation. Anything."
He raised an eyebrow. "Except leave me alone."
"Yeah, I guess."
"I'm screwed if anyone found out I did this. You understand?"
"Yes." She said with a sigh, heart skipping.
"What do you need?"
"The b- the cut on my arm needs to be cleaned and stitched."
"Stitched? I ain't doing that."
"I'll figure it out on my own." She said absently. That was something she was really not looking forward to.
"All right, look. I don't know what I can find. We're short on bandages, but I might be able to find something clean that would work. Wait here." Alvin shut the window and left through the door. Clementine leaned against the wall and slid down to sit. The walker had wandered off, not that it was likely to get very close. She closed her eyes, thinking what it'd be like to sink into a warm bed like the one on the other side of the window. God, when was the last time she'd even woken up to a ceiling over her head? Must've been just before leaving Georgia, at the bed 'n breakfast on the outskirts of town. Georgia had been so long ago, right after-
"Hey, miss?" Clementine jerked up and scrambled to her feet. Alvin held out a ball of gauze on top of a sealed cotton strip. "I found you a bandage."
She took it gratefully, "And I uh ..." He held out a box of apple juice, making her heart melt. "Thank you, thank you so-"
"Alvin." Carlos's voice interrupted from behind the door. "House meeting in five minutes."
"Oh, okay thanks!" Alvin called back. He turned back to Clementine. "Now you need to go."
She nodded, and let him close the window on her. One item down ... She crept along the deck, trying other windows with no luck. She circled the building twice, hearing voices gather at the back door entrance. She nearly missed the sheet of plywood nailed over a portion of lattice under the house. Pulling the hammer from her belt loop, she made quick work of pulling the nails out. A gurgly moan made her jump. That damn walker drifted through the trees, too close for comfort. She crawled through a small hole near the bottom, dragging the board back into place.
She passed under rows of pipes, hearing water rush through them and footsteps directly above her. She saw a trap door and scurried to it only to find it locked when pushed. The edge of the hammer was too thick to wedge between the boxy lock piece. She listened for any noise from the room above her. Hearing nothing, she slipped her knife in the crack and slowly pried at the edges. Just as the lock was about to give way the blade snapped, popping open the door. Damn... But now she had access to the house, at least.
She peeked inside, finding herself in some sort of broom closet. She opened the door a crack, hearing muted voices in an adjacent room.
"I've already made my decision."
"Well, Luke has more to say on that. Where's Sarah?"
"She's got her book. She doesn't need to be a part of this."
The conversation traveled elsewhere in the house. She cracked open the door and peeked out. It opened out to a cozy living room bathed in warm firelight. Two green plaid couches bordered a small coffee table covered in the remnants of an abandoned poker game. A staircase to her left would take her to other bedrooms, she assumed. To her right was a hall ending in the front door, and another door labeled with the word Kitchen. Unable to resist, she pressed her ear to it, catching pieces of conversation.
"She's connected to somebody. There ain't no way she's out here on her own." Nick was saying.
"She said she was alone." Pete replied.
"Yeah right."
"Who ever she's with, they'll probably come looking for her." Carlos pointed out.
"If they show up, and we got her locked up in the shed..." Pete let the implication hang.
"You think we should let her in here?" Rebecca's voice was clearest, probably closest to the door.
"No, I'm just sayin, it wouldn't look too good."
"It's just a precautionary measure. Anyone else would do the same."
She gently pressed on the door, allowing her to get a brief glimpse of the kitchen. She counted all six people who'd been outside, plus the girl Sarah holed up in a part of the house, ruling out any wild cards remaining inside the house whom she hadn't had the pleasure of being introduced to. Luke sighed. "You really think Carver would come after us?"
"You think he wouldn't?" Nick responded, chewing on his thumbnail.
"He's not exactly the type to let things slide." Pete agreed.
"What happened happened. There's nothing we can do about it now." Carlos reasoned.
"Let 'im come. I really don't give a damn."
"Alvin."
"What? I don't."
Nick turned to pick something off the table when his eyes landed directly at her. She jerked back, silently praying she hadn't been noticed. In what was probably her least graceful getaway, she waddled on the balls of her feet to the nearest door and slipped inside. The lights were dimmed, though it appeared to be Alvin's bedroom. She listened at the door for sounds indicating she'd been busted, but heard nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to give the room a quick sweep.
A picture of a duck hung on the wall made her heart clench. She looked away bitterly. Other than some note paper with lists of baby names on the desk, nothing else piqued her interest. She carefully tiptoed across the living room to the stairs, the candles flickering as she passed them. She cringed as each step creaked like an old man in bad weather until several closed doors greeted her at the top. She picked the door to her immediate right, quietly turning the handle.
The girl with the red glasses raised her nose from her book and gasped. Clementine gasped back, wanting to bolt back outside but her feet were rooted in place. Neither of them moved or said a word for a few seconds. Clementine pressed her finger to her lips. The girl set her book aside and whispered, "You're not supposed to be in here."
She was pretty young, probably not much younger than Clementine. She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. "Hi. Can you please help me?"
"I'm not supposed to talk to you." She said uneasily. "My dad can't know."
"Why? What will he do?"
"Get mad at me." The girl said.
Clementine's stomach twisted. She'd hate for this girl to be punished on her behalf. "What does he do when he gets mad?"
"He gets angry, and he says he's disappointed in me, and that he loves me and just wants me to be safe."
Clementine blinked slowly, deciding she was probably younger than she looked. "Is that it? Nothing else?"
"Yeah. It's the worst." Her eyes settled on Clementine's red-soaked sleeve. "What happened to you?"
"A dog bit me."
Her eyes grew wide. "Sounds scary, I bet it hurts."
"I could die if I don't take care of it." Clementine said dramatically. "Do you understand? I need something to clean it with. And a needle and thread to sew it up. Do you know where those things are?"
She shrugged. "My dad has some stuff for cleaning with his supplies upstairs. It kinda burns. I don't know if he has stuff for sewing though."
"Upstairs?" Clementine frowned.
Sarah pointed to the ceiling. "In the attic. We don't have much. He's still trying to restock since we moved." She paused. "I'll help you."
Relief flooded through her. "Good. Thanks."
"I'm Sarah."
Pause. "I'm Clementine."
"We're friends." Clementine did a double take, suddenly growing alarmed by Sarah's excited smile. "Right? We can be best friends! I haven't met another girl my age since, like, way before."
Stunned, Clementine stammered, "I-I'm 18, though."
That made her stop for a moment."Really? You don't look like it. I turned 15 in August, so it not that bad."
That blew Clementine's mind. "No way."
Sarah nodded. "It's hard to be the only girl. Rebecca's ok, but she's old. And that's it. And if her baby's a girl it'll be forever until she's old enough to be my friend. And then I'll be super old -"
"Ok, ok, um," She cut her off awkwardly, trying to look normal. "We are friends."
"Promise?" Clementine's smile shrank. "It's important. Friends have to trust each other, no matter what. Do you promise or not?"
"I promise." She said woodenly.
Sarah smiled enthusiastically. "Me too. Friends." She held out her pinky. Wow, Clementine thought. This girl ought to be a lawyer or something. She hooked her pinky in the universal symbol for death before dishonor. "A pinky swear is forever."
"Super." Clementine lamented.
"I'll see if I can find what my dad uses when I get a cut. Let me look around," She circled her bed, picking though drawers and a woven chest. She squinted at a brown bottle in her hand. "I think this is it.
"That'll work." She said, accepting it gratefully. This was much better than she had expected; she'd thought she'd have to look for packaged sanitizer wipes.
Sarah waved her hands from side to side. "You can't do it here though! Someone will find you!"
"Don't worry, I won't." Clementine pushed the door open a sliver before going through. "Thanks Sarah." She said, hoping to never see her again.
"Shhh!"
She tiptoed into the room directly across the hall, finding herself in a bathroom. There was probably a stash of toiletries somewhere, a small sewing kit maybe, something she could use. Her hopes were dashed after going through the linen closet, then the cabinet and drawers under the sink. Some bobby pins, a tube of lip balm, mini shampoo bottles. She caught her reflection in the mirror and stopped. There was dried blood sprayed across her face, streaked with dirt as though it had dripped in the rain. She looked pale and sickly, her features slightly gray and wild. No wonder they suspected she was infected.
She pulled at the edge of the mirror, and there it was. One mid-sized sewing needle plunged into a tomato pin cushion. She plucked it out just as she heard the floorboards creak up the stairs. Someone was coming. Clementine panicked, shutting the mirror and backed into the shower, drawing the curtains around her.
The door creaked open, hearing Rebecca's voice say "Dammit." as it shut behind her. "I just need to have this baby and ... Oh god." She heard the faucet gush water, lightning flashing the room and illuminating the woman's outline through the shower curtain. "Let it be ok and let it be his." She adjusted her shirt over her stomach, attempting to flash a smile into the mirror until she left.
Clementine waited a few breaths before daring to leave the safety of the tub. Now that she had her supplies, it was time for her to skedaddle.
By the time she got back inside the shed she could barely stand upright. She arranged the items around on the table; Peroxide, bandages, fishing line, needle, apple juice. She rolled up her sleeve, which had started to dry onto the sides of her arm. The wound looked bruised and angry, trickling fresh bright blood.
"This is gonna suck." She sipped at the juice, mentally preparing herself. She uncapped the peroxide, sucking in a big breath, and poured it over the ripped skin. Fire bloomed up her arm. She screamed, squeezing her wrist as the gash fizzled. After a while the burning finally receded enough to flex her arm muscles to relax.
"Ok ... Ok ... I'm good, I'm fine." She sucked at the juice box, the sweetness soothing her throat and mind a little. "Now for the fun part." She threaded the fishing line through the eye of the needle, then pressed her thumb on the center to create a bend in it. "Now ... Just like last time," She muttered, reaching for the pencil. "Just how Christa showed me." She bit into the pencil, then pierced the needle through the skin.
She screamed at the pain shooting up her arm, pulling the wider eye of the needle through to the other end. She dropped it and slammed her fist on the table, starting to feel dazed. The sky thundered ominously.
The next stitch was quicker, stabbing through before she could protest. She felt tears flow freely down her face and tried to slow down her breathing. She placed the needle to her skin again, taking her a couple tries to get her hand to stop wavering. She pushed it through, snapping the pencil in her mouth. She spat it out, pressing her forehead to the table. Just one more, and you can be done...
She fought to keep her hand steady, nausea rolling through her. "Just one more..." Her hand, slick with blood, slipped and pierced too deep. Thunder drowned out her cry of agony. She adjusted the needle, yanking the final stitch through. There. It was done.
She tied it off and bit off the string. She felt lightheaded, laying her upper body over the table to rest as she slurped the rest of the juice. When she could breathe normally again she reached for the bandages. They were awfully cute to staunch all that blood. She fumbled with it, dropping it through clumsy fingers. She groaned, bending to pick the ball of gauze up.
A pair of white decaying eyes met hers before she realized what was happening. The walker latched on to her wrist, lifting itself and clacking its yellowed teeth. Clementine shrieked, kicking at it's head and pulling back her arm. She reached for the hammer on the table when the hole it was crawling through broke open wider. They crashed to ground, her cheekbone hitting the table on the way down. The walker dragged itself on top of her, spewing toxic breath and dirt from it's beard. She flailed in terror, screaming and pushing with her legs on it's chest. It toppled off, allowing her to grab at the first thing she saw: a metal rake. She used it to pull herself up just as the walker shambled at her with outstretched fingers. She jabbed the curved tines at its neck, staving off it's forward momentum. With a determined cry she ran it backwards into the wall. It tripped over it's own feet and hit the sharp anchor, splitting through it's sternum.
Clementine hastily scooped up the hammer, nearly falling on her face. Taking practiced aim, she hurled it down on its skull. The bone cracked, exposing the infected grey matter. She swung it down again, and again, until it got lodged in the bone and the walker's jaw hung slack. She panted as her vision spun, yanking at the handle feebly, not caring that the shed door was being jangled unlocked and flung open. "Holy shit..."
She wiggled the hammer free with an exhausted grunt as more people ran up. "What the-"
She wiped her face on her shoulder, feeling the start of a bruise swell on her cheekbone. She turned to face the music, dropping the hammer at her feet. Luke had his hands in his hair, sharing everyone's shocked expression. "How the hell did it get in here?"
"Girl's tough as nails." Pete mused.
"I am still. Not. Bitten." She met their wide eyes with exhausted fury. "I never was! And you left me in here to die."
Some of them exchanged guilty looks. Luke noticed her rolled up sleeve. "You patched yourself up?"
"Where'd you get that stuff?" Nick demanded.
"Did she steal from us?" Rebecca asked incredously.
"This doesn't change a thing. She hasn't done anything to us." Pete announced, hands out in a peaceful gesture.
"No, I did." Clementine admitted. "I took stuff. And I'm sorry, I really am. But you left me no other choice. It was that, or die."
"And you think you can trust her?" Rebecca shot back, glaring at Pete.
"God DAMMIT, don't even start." Pete shouted. "Any of you would have done the same if you were half as tough as this young lady, so just save it."
They were quiet, shamefully averting their eyes. Carlos shook his head. "Bring her inside, I'll check on her arm."
"Damn lurkers sneakin' around out here." Alvin added, rubbing Rebecca's shoulder. "We better get inside."
They left Luke and Clementine at the entrance of the shed. Luke was biting his lip and looked like there was something he wanted to say. Clementine went to follow the rest into the house.
"You hungry?" Clementine paused, trying to come up with a polite way to say fuck no, until she gave up and left him with his stupid question.
Next chapter will start to deviate from the game a bit more. Remember, when you leave a review, an angel gets it's wings.