"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life..."

Chapter 6

Clementine felt like she was walking through someone else's dream. The unfamiliar, crumbling structures were deteriorating memories that drifted in and out of sight, out of mind. Behind her, Luke and Nick were barely fleshed out ghosts following through the deep curtains of fog. She wondered if this was the way the walkers saw the world, when they weren't driven manic by that hunger, and everything that didn't move was simply deader than they.

The agonized screams had died down by the time they approached the outline of a small cabin, it's sad, sagging roof covered in thick moss and practically vibrating with the dead. They took cover beside a picnic table, watching for movement. "I can't see anything in this shit." Nick grumbled.

Luke retrieved a set of binoculars from his pack, bracing his elbows on the table as he inspected the building. Clementine held her breath, watching an unsettlingly tiny skeleton in a filthy scout uniform amble past them toward the wet squelching coming from the cabin. She tugged on his shirt sleeve. "See anything?"

He swallowed, passing the binoculars to Nick. "There's got to be at least a dozen of them in there. Whoever was in there is gone now."

"Jee-zus, it's like Black Friday in there," Nick said, half-awed and half-disgusted. "Which is exactly why we ought to mosey along, don't you think?"

Clacks of gunshots echoed through the trees once more, making Luke swivel around with the binoculars glued to his face. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Survivors?"

"I don't know, but I don't like this," Nick muttered, chewing on the skin of his finger. "I got this bad feeling, man. We should get back to the boat."

"It's probably just indigestion, you'll be fine," Luke quipped. "Let's at least stick to the plan for now until we know what we're dealing with."

Nick snorted. "Honestly, I'm more worried about getting shot than bit."

"It's coming from that way," Clementine pointed up the trail. Luke made a sour expression. "Towards the ranger station. They'd better be friendly."

"Yeah, well what are the odds of that?"

Luke drew his machete with a long sigh. "Nick, buddy, I value your opinion and all, but you're kind of bringing me down, man."

The unmaintained trail had become rather difficult to follow, due to the low-visibility and the over-active plant growth obscuring the path. They followed the irregular shots echoing clearer until an old brick building rose into view. It was squatted across a small parking lot containing two cars near the entrance, every surface carpeted with forest debris. Verdant moss sprouted through cracks, it's walls covered in patchy pale lichen. What really drew the eye, however, was the shredded blue sofa pushed up against shattered glass doors.

"Psst!" Nick motioned for them to duck behind a dumpster on the edge of the lot. "I see them."

Two—no, three men hunkered in between the two cars, partially obscured and apparently in cover. Indistinct conversation could be heard, punctuated by the occasional shot fired over the hood of the large white minivan. A man in a blue ball-cap and denim jacket popped up and shouted, "Sweetheart, it's been fun real messing 'round with ya, but I'm getting real tired of your shit!" A muffled click click from somewhere inside the station made them duck their heads, resulting in the minivan's passenger mirror exploding.

Clementine peeked around the dumpster. She could make out one of them, the one who'd just spoken, nod to another man in a dark green flannel digging into his pocket. "Don't say we didn't warn ya." He said. A tiny clink, then green-flannel guy lobbed a black cylinder through the window.

A solid two seconds later a sharp explosion rocked the building, the shockwave blowing out the remaining windows and sending shards of glass and splintered wood scattering. "Ho-ly shit!" Green-flannel whooped, "Talk about shooting fish in a barrel, huh?"

Ball-cap guy clapped a hand on the third man's shoulder. "Lou, do your pillage and plunder thing." The guy named Lou could have dwarfed Carlos, a veritable Viking in jeans. He stood up to a full height of well over six and a half inches, hesitating by the window. The words that came out of his mouth sounded garbled.

Ball-cap guy rolled his eyes. "In English, please!"

"Wot. About. Girl?"

Ball-cap guy sighed, stepping measuredly to the giant man. "I'm gonna share with you a personal principle I have for these types of situations: If you're gonna point a gun at someone, you'd better make sure you shoot him. And if you shoot him, you'd better make sure he's dead, 'cause if he isn't, he's gonna get up and try to kill you. Now, do remember what just happened?" He ejected the clip of his pistol into his palm, counting the number of shots left. "I had my gun on her head and didn't shoot her. Why?" He slammed the clip back in place, offering it out with more menace than one would normally give a man covered in that much muscle. "'Cause you asked me not to. And now Babycakes is dead. That's on you. Do the right thing."

Lou stared at it blankly for a moment, square jaw twitching. He took the proffered pistol, ducking his head under the window sill and stepped through the building without another word. Green-flannel guy scratched the balding patch on his head. "Wasn't that a line from Blood Simple?"

A startled woman's cry separated two, nearly simultaneous gunshots from inside the station.

"Yep," He responded, drawing out the Y sound, wiggling the brim of his hat up and down. "Mums the word, though. Later I'm gonna tell him I helped write the script."

Lou came back out with a large rucksack under one arm, a deeply troubled look on his sharply, angular features.

"Dibs on the gun!"

"Dammit, Nate! You always do that." The three men took their time swaggering off around the building, talking between themselves.

Nick waited until they were out of sight before speaking. "This place'll be crawling in lurkers pretty soon after that noise. I still think we should cut our losses now."

"But wait," Clementine objected. "Aren't you even curious about whoever's in the station?"

"They threw a grenade in there and shot her down!"

"Flashbang, actually," Luke clarified. "But I'm with Nick on this, I don't wanna get in the middle of that clusterfuck. Let's just sneak by and avoid any trouble, all right?

"Can you believe that guy though? He's almost as bad as—Clem, wait!"

She was gone, darting across the parking lot without so much as an irritated backwards glance. Nick glared at Luke, as though he were to blame. "Literally does the opposite of everything I say."

"You just have that effect on girls," Luke said with a grin, patting him on the shoulder. "Keep a lookout, will ya?"

"You guys suck, you really do."

The room smelled like an entire matchbook set on fire, smoldering books and partially incinerated pamphlets glowing in the smoke. Clementine was examining the significant portion of the ceiling that had caved in, exposing useless criss-crossing cables. Piles of office furnishings spilled through a door knocked off it's hinges. Other barricades of filing cabinets and folding tables had been pushed against the back windows.

"This must've been a temporary safehouse." Luke murmured.

A grunt from behind the front desk made them freeze. He motioned for Clementine to stay put, calling out, "Hey. Hello? You alive?"

No reply, only hard coughing and the tinkling of broken glass. He quietly rounded the corner with his machete raised over his head, smoothly aiming at something on the ground when he dropped it back down to the side. "Oh shit."

"Well?" Clementine asked, navigated the rubble to have a look. Sprawled on the ground was a woman with short raven-black hair dusted with drywall, nearly invisible in dark clothes topped with a motorcycle jacket and an empty belt holster. Two bullet holes splintered the wall above her head. She cracked one bruised eye open. "Get it over with, I don't have all day."

The two of them exchanged confused looks. "We're not here to hurt you."

"Oh, well that's a nice twist on things, I can get down with this." She groaned, attempting to sit up.

"Whoa, whoa. Easy there," Luke chided, kneeling down with a hand out to steady her. "You hurt, take it slow."

"'Tis but a flesh wound," She said mildly, ignoring him and resting her elbows on her knees, rubbing her temples. Eventually she strained to focus on their faces. "So who the fuck are you?"

He shared a questioning look with Clementine, who nodded encouragingly. "We were just passing through to investigate the town up ways. This is Clementine, and I'm Luke."

"Huh, well you're late to the party," She said with heavy eyelids, nearly tipping over before she caught herself on a stiff arm. "Sorry ... I've had a hell of a night."

"Sounds like an understatement. Let's get you out of here, before walkers..." Luke trailed off when her head drooped again, her head lolling on her shoulder. "Never mind." He scooped his arms under her knees and arms, hoisting her up. "Let's move, Clem. Lead the way?"

She gave him a sloppy salute, nimbly climbing out the window. Nick glowered by the dumpster with his arms crossed until he caught sight of them and the damsel in distress. His jaw dropped an inch. "Huh."

"Take the map out of my pocket, will ya?" Luke said. "Is there a hill nearby overlooking the camp?"

"Uhh," Nick flattened the map out, scouring the lines veining the area. "Yeah! That way!" He pointed to their northeast at a road just barely visible. Luke shifted the weight in his arms. "I think the walkers have been getting funneled downhill,so the further up we go—"

"I gotcha, let's go." Nick led the way up the road. It zigzagged up the steep slope until they reached a shanty cabin that looked as if it'd been tossed carelessly between the trees.

The entire interior of the cabin was a dry splatter of crusted brown fluids and buzzing, stained bones. Clementine gagged, slamming the door back shut on the swarm of flies. Nick whistled from the corner of the cliff. "This looks good."

A turret-shaped gazebo perched between the safety rails overlooking the campground, or at least it would have without the curtain of fog. The slap of water against concrete carried up to their ears, as did the faints guttural howls of the dead.

Luke laid the woman down on the bench, "She's not going anywhere for a while. In the meantime, I suggest we secure this area." He noticed where's Nick's attention was directed. "You mind babysitting for a minute?"

Nick dragged his gaze off the unconscious woman. "Huh? Yeah, yeah, go do that."

Luke turned to Clementine, handing her the binoculars. "Try to see of you can find those guys and follow their movements. I get the feeling we'll want to know what they're up to when she wakes up."

The hours crept by uneventfully. Nick found himself checking his watch every fifteen minutes, blowing air through his lips impatiently. Luke had gone off to investigate whatever had tripped their perimeter alarm (fishing line jerry-rigged with some cat collar bells).

Clem was entertaining herself with the binoculars, leaned up against the rail while peering through the evaporating mist at the campground below, following every blurred movement with hawk-eyed results. Relevant reports, however, became less and less frequent. "This guy in the green shirt will not stop picking his nose, it's like his brain has a rash."

"Thanks for the mental image, Clem. You're doing great."

The woman they'd found hadn't quite woken up yet. From a cursory inspection, she was neither bitten nor grievously injured, yet her olive complexion was ashy and her lips dry. Probably from exhaustion and dehydration. Better to let her rest, though it prevented them from going on with the plan. And that made him nervous.

Questions bubbled up that couldn't yet be answered, making him anxious for what their next move would be. The amorphous feeling of dread had knotted in his sternum, radiating out from his chest. Something bad was imminent, he just didn't know what or how he knew. He looked at his watch, until the tick, tick, tick melded with his pulse.

Fuck, if Pete were here, he'd at least know exactly what to do, he would make a call and follow through like a bull stampede. Not like Nick, he was too wary, too indecisive. He didn't even know her name.

At first sight, she looked like any average woman in her late twenties to early thirties, sort of pretty, a little too underfed. Clearly a well prepared survivor though, wearing a tough, armored jacket and hard polypropylene pads velcroed on her joints. No teeth, at least, could hurt her from the neck down. Nick removed her hard, leather gloves and placed them next to her head, revealing cold, slender fingers. He rubbed them together in his own, breathing into them for warmth.

She mumbled something in her sleep. Nick leaned forward, straining his ears. Her armored jacket seemed tightly buttoned around her throat, her neck laid at an uncomfortable angle against the hard wood bench. Without thinking (coherently, anyway), he flicked the silver button loose, slipping his other palm under her head to tweak it straight. He hesitated on the zipper, gently, slowly, quietly pulling the tab down until it met her belt buckle.

The two halves of the jacket popped apart. In that moment her eyelids twitched, her hand drifting up to Nick's scruffy cheek. "Hey..."

He froze, blinked, touching her fingers lightly. "Hi." Her eyes opened, unfocused at first, then fixed down on his other hand, unfortunately resting on her belt buckle.

Clementine heard a squawk of surprise and a quick scuffle, turning around to find Nick on his knees with his arms tangled behind him, the tip of a short knife appearing out of nowhere to press against his neck. The woman's wild auburn eyes darted under an errant tuft of untrimmed bangs. "What is this? Where am I?"

"Calm down!" Clementine said as gently as she could, her fingers splayed in pacifying gestures. "Remember me? My friends and I saved you!"

She blinked slowly, memories catching up to the rest of her. "Clementine, right? Right ... those were my favorites."

"Yeah," Clementine said, her face contorting in relief as the knife pulled away from Nick's neck. "Are you ok?"

Nick winced, flexing his arm. "Yeah, yeah, just twisted my wrist."

"I was talking to her."

"I could use a stiff drink." She admitted weakly, trying not to wobble as she tucked the blade back into her boot.

"I second that notion," Nick growled, rolling his shoulder. "What's your name anyway?"

Her dark features furrowed together in a wordless apology, offering her hand to pull him to his feet. "Call me Em."

He stared robotically at her for a second, clasping his hand into hers. "I'm Nick."

"You're awake." Luke emerged from the wilderness, decayed blood sprayed in droplets over his clothes. The line of Clementine's shoulders sunk in relief at his arrival, which she probably thought no one noticed. "How you do feel?"

"Like my friends are all dead," She murmured, clawing her fingers through her hair. She dropped her butt down on the bench, breathing out a heavy, "Oh balls..."

Something clicked into place in Clementine's head. "There were three hanged people by the lake. Did you know them?" Em closed her eyes, pressing her lips together, her voice thin. "You saw them?"

"Yeah, as soon as we got here." She said. "We heard screaming near the lake a few hours ago, we had to see if we could help."

Her eyes screwed shut, spitting, "Oh. Yeah. That bimbo sure had a set o' pipes on her." She curled her fingers into fists. "She killed my friend..."

They waited in bated silence as she choked on a sob, clamping her hand against her mouth. "She got bit..." Em blurted out. "My friends and I were combing through that town up ways—" She stopped when she noticed the way they all tensed and looked at each other. "It take it you guys know of it."

Luke nodded. "We were going to scout the place out, yeah. We figured it was just out of the way enough to still have supplies."

"It sure as hell did," She said bitterly. "Took us most of the day to hike to it, but ..." She swallowed hard. "... In the end, the paydirt was what killed us. Meds, ammo, food, the whole post-apocalyptic nine yards. Arielle even found this necklace..." She trailed off, features hardening.

Nick tentatively pressed a hand on her arm. "What happened to them?"

"We ... met this Bulgarian guy, Lyuben, in the gift shop. He was awkward as shit, didn't really speak English and built like a fucking brick shithouse, but ... I don't know, he looked so fucking lost. He helped us search the clinic, then that smarmy fucking prick Nate and his goons come along and start demanding we hand over everything we got. That bitchass Babycakes, or whatever the fuck they called her, saw Arielle's hand and killed her." Her posture squared off, reflecting her caged rage bubbling within. "Deadbeats bit a few of her fingers off. I told her it would be fine but I don't think any of us believed it. I lied my ass off anyway, that we'd tie off her arm, I would chop it off and cauterize it, and it would be fine. I would have done it too. But ..." She brushed heavy tears off her lashes. "They never even gave her, or any of us, a chance to come to terms with it."

They sat in uncomfortable silence, as she strangled the little sobs in her throat, almost unaware she was still clutching at Nick's hand. "I've known her since fourth grade. She played fucking cello. She was like my sister."

"I'm so sorry..." Clementine whispered sorrowfully, not knowing what else to say.

"I...I managed to chew my ropes off while they were hanging the others, one by one. I stole my gun back, grabbed one of our bags and booked it. They followed me until some deadbeats backed me into a cabin, and that girl nearly gets me before I shot her kneecaps. It bought me some time to get to the station. I guess you guys know the rest."

They watched her rub the blood off the cut on her lip and stare at it in disbelief. "I'm actually really surprised I'm not dead."

"So you knew that big guy, Lou, or Lyuben, the one who was supposed to shoot you in the station?" Luke asked. "He didn't kill you because he knew you?"

"Maybe..." She acquiesced, looking like she'd be ill. "He didn't put much of a fight when they came along. Probably felt guilty."

"Any idea what they might be up to now?" Nick asked. She shook her head. "I don't know, they took everything we had. All our food, medicine, and weapons ... it won't be long before they move on."

"We'll get your things back," He declared, making Luke and Clementine raise their eyebrows. Nick looked at the two of them like he expected them to object. "They have everything we wanted to get from that town, so our plan is fucked. At the very least, we can get her things back. With the four of us together we outnumber them. That's a start."

She gave his hand a little squeeze, a dejected smile on her lips. "I really appreciate that. I guess after checking the cabins, they might end up down by the water, looking for gas to siphon from from any boats that might be left—"

"Fuck, seriously?" Luke shouted, jumping to his feet. Em was startled, nodding apprehensively. "Yeah, why? Oh shit, you guys didn't get here by boat, did you?

"Yeah, and we didn't exactly put a bike lock on it. Clem, what was their last position?"

"By the public bathrooms east of the station. It did look like they were making their way downhill. There were a lot of walkers slowing down their progress."

Luke tsked. "Even so, they'll beat us to it. We'd never make it past them without them noticing us."

"Do you think we can take them on?" Clementine asked. Em winced. "Doubtful. They took all of our shit. Weapons and ammo, meds ... it doesn't matter that they're outnumbered unless we can take them by surprise."

"Well, we have to make sure our exit route it secured." Luke said. "Going into town is pointless now. We'll need to think of some kind of distraction."

"So, anyone wanna volunteer to run up and moon them into submission?" Nick drawled.

"Well," Em said slowly. "Do any of you have matches?"

Confused, Clementine reached into her pocket. "I have a zippo."

Em grinned. "I may have an idea."

"Fucking gross." Devon said, kicking at one of the squirming bodies hanging cold in the air. It bounced against one of the others, snarling as it swayed.

Nate stepped back from the slouching cabin's window, his face warped in repulsion. "What a fucking waste. She had such a slammin' rack on her. Dumb as a rock, but that's why god invented strippers."

After retrieving their stolen stash of supplies, it had taken them hours to circle around the horde collecting around the station, forcing the three of them to retreat within the cabins until the dead meandered by. Time didn't matter, though. Now that the chick who disarmed Babycakes (he didn't actually know her real name, not that he'd bothered to ask) got her just desserts, they were set for months. He even swiped the bitch's gun, a sexy silenced MK 23 fitted with a laser sight. "Just the survival of the fittest."

"Are you talking to me?" Devon said, nose wrinkled.

"No, I'm talking to Lou, cause that's real fucking rewarding." He pointed lazily at the crouched man, who was scooping something from slick, brown bones underneath the hanged people. He didn't look up, but his sour expression spoke for him.

Nate squinted off into the harbor's distance. "That little boaty thing over there..." He pointed to the nearly hidden, bobbing dinghy. "That looks useful. Lou, go check it out."

Lou stood up straight, his bloody grip wrapped around something in his palm. "Lyuben."

"What?"

"Kazvam se Lyuben. Name, " He said as though speaking to a child, pointing at his chest. "Lyuben Zerihov."

"Shit, you sound like a fucking epileptic—"

A shrill whistle snatched their attention. A small pop of colors exploded above the water, echoing through the silent trees. "What the shit..." Devon said.

Another flash zipped through the air, bright phosphorescent tendrils in the dimming sky. Nate brought the gun up to eye-level. "Nobody move."

A third firecracker went off, the line of smoke trailing from some bushes by the lake's edge. He squinted down the sight, seeing a shadowy figure dart into the trees. His finger tightened on the trigger.

Swift realization dawned on him a millisecond before he felt the cold edge of a blade press against his neck. A man's voice, "No sudden movements."

He scoffed, cheerfully throwing up his hands in surrender, chuckling, "Fucking smooth, man. I didn't even hear you coming."

A heavy thwack dropped Devon in a heap at Clementine's feet, gripping her hammer with both hands. Lyuben pointed his gun at her, only to lower it at the sight of Nick's rifle emerge from the trees.

"Lets make this clean and quick." Luke said. "We're here for the stolen items."

Nate's grin fell, connecting the dots. He threw a black look at Lyuben. "You...inbred fucktard, I gave you one job!"

"I got this one." Clementine said, wrestling the rucksack off Devon's shoulders. "It's really heavy."

"What's it gonna be?" Luke nudged the back of his head with the flat of his blade. Nate drew his lips back in a vicious grin. "You've crossed me. I promise you, I'll kill you like a dog in the street for this."

"Can't say I'm too worried about that." Em retorted, walking up from behind with Luke's single action in a teacup grip. Lyuben wore a slightly remorseful look at her approach. She huffed, "Nice to see you too."

He towered over her, having to sharply incline his head to meet her eyes. He dropped his gun and kicked it to her. The rucksack slid off his shoulders, offering it out in one hand and a dirty silver chain in the other. The color drained from her face, reaching out to accept the red-stained necklace first. "Sorry." He said, the low sound coming from deep in his chest.

Nate was disgusted, raising the gun. "Backstabbing son of a-" Luke struck him with the butt of his machete, sending him falling face first into a bushel of ferns.

For a moment, none of them spoke, too surprised by their change in fortune. "That went really well, didn't it?" Nick said, scratching under his hat.

Em walked up to the Nate's prostrate form, picking up the silenced gun from his hand. "There's my baby." She said, checking the magazine before tucking it into her hip holster.

"So," Clementine began, twirling her hammer shyly. "What are you gonna do now?"

Em handed her the borrowed gun and lighter back, smiling warmly. "I can't exactly carry all this junk by myself. You guys came all this way for it, so take whatever you need. As my thanks."

"You're welcome to come back with us." Luke suggested. "We got a decent setup a few miles south."

"I appreciate it, but I can't. Besides, I don't think you have room in your pathetic excuse for a boat."

"Where will you go?" The young girl asked.

"Well, I've been searching for a couple of guys for a few months now, both about—" Em held her hand several inches over her head."—yay tall. A man named Roy and this fourteen year old named Orion. I don't suppose you've seen them?"

Luke and Nick both shook their heads. Clementine shrugged, "I don't remember anyone like that."

Distress flickered over her features for an instant. "Ah, I see."

"Family?"

She smiled. "Yeah. My husband and son."

Nick was staggered. "You're married?"

"Well, no, not in any legal-binding way. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find an ordained minister nowadays." She confessed, pulling on a cord around her neck. On it dangled a spectacular diamond ring large enough to take out an eye. "But in my heart we are, where it counts."

"That's really wonderful." Nick said, crestfallen yet sincere.

Em turned a dauntless eye to the tall Bulgarian, who was awkwardly standing to the side his his arms crossed. "How about it, Lyuben? You wanna come with?"

He smirked, nodding once.

Luke smiled. "I hope you find them, we'll keep an—"

He never finished his sentence, because that was when Nate decided to wake up. No matter what anyone said about him, he had always been a shrewd planner, often by the seat of his pants and always expecting the chance of failure. When the only laws that mattered were the principles you enforced yourself, he was damn well sure to keep a back up plan, fully loaded and hidden in his pocket.

Luke noticed the movement out in his peripheral vision, stepping in front of Clementine in the fraction of a second before the gun fired.

It was a start, an eye for an eye. Karma's a bitch.

I'm really sorry for the lack of updates. I've got the next few chapters outlined, so hopefully I can get back into doing weekly uploads. Major thanks to the wonderful people who reviewed, it's like Christmas day every time I read your comments. And HOLY CRAP, AMID THE RUINS! FINALLY!