Chapter 5 – Conversations

"Let's go check on Sarah," Clementine headed for the kitchen door.

"We need to talk, Clem," I insisted. Pete's words were burning a hole in my head. All I could think about was Carver, and how she needed to know what I knew. She halted, sighing and turning back to me.

"Look, Scout... I know you don't like them but we're here now. And I don't wanna talk about leaving."

"Clem, we can't-"

"We already are!" she interrupted. "Now they need us."

I dropped my head, not believing my own words. "Christa needed us, too." As soon as I'd said it, I regretted opening my mouth. Clementine looked away, her countenance one of angry sorrow, but she took a seat in Rebecca's empty chair, folding her arms atop the table and deflating. I sighed softly, sliding onto the opposite bench. For a moment we sat in silence, the dim morning light illuminating the room a little more every minute. The silence was comforting, somehow. Like maybe I could have kept everything in, after all. Like maybe I should.

"How's your arm?" she whispered, staring at my shoulder. I peeled the edge of my jacket back. I hadn't pulled the stitches, thankfully, but the limb felt weak.

"I've had worse," I managed a smile, trying to put her at ease. "How's yours?"

"I've had worse," she echoed. "Carlos did a good job fixing it."

I frowned, licking my dry, chapped lips. "You did a good job, too."

She shook her head, unappreciative of my attempts to change the subject. "Even Christa would have agreed that we needed to find a group."

"Not this one, Clementine," I pled softly. "They're runners. They spook too easily."

"What do you mean?"

I hesitated, thinking about Pete again.

"Pete, tell me about Carver."

He turned to me. The sun was setting, casting its last obstinate beams of orange across the dashboard, making nothing visible but the motes of dust swirling around the cabin. Pete was a shadow against them, a singular void in space.

"Carver," he repeated quietly, the word just rolling off his tongue. For a moment I thought that was it: I'd lost him. That his last conscious thought was of that enigma. But his eyes found mine again. "He has a compound a... a few miles from here."

"A compound?"

"An old hardware store he converted. It's massive. Full of people, all organized. Like an army."

"Why are you guys afraid of him? You tick him off or something?"

"You could say that."

"Clem..." She looked up at me. Maybe I didn't have to tell her everything, but she needed to know how much danger we were in. "Carver is getting closer and closer to this cabin. The river is only half a mile down and they were there, yesterday. Soon he'll be here, and whatever he wants with these people, it isn't good. And I don't want to be around when it happens."

"We need to warn them, then. No, listen," she interrupted, seeing me lean back in frustration. "I'm not stupid. I know they're not the best group we could be with, but we can use them while we have them. Try to make a go of it. Better than being on our own. Maybe Carver will back off."

"What if we have it backwards? What if Carver's group is the one we want to be with?"

Clem's eyes narrowed. "You mean the guys that attacked Christa? That shot up the river?"

"We don't know if they were together!" I argued, trying to keep my voice down. "For all we know those bandits that attacked Christa tried to do the same to Carver's group and they fought them off. I'm just saying..." I faltered, quickly withdrawing my defense. "I... I won't leave without you, Clem. But this isn't the end of the road, either."

"It never is," she replied stonily, ushering us into another silence. "Come on, let's go check on Sarah."