Chapter 6 – Intruder
The stairs creaked as we ascended to the second-floor landing. Sarah's room, the first door on the right, was shut tight. Her safe little cave, with her soft bed and coloring books, was a foreign concept to me. Clem knocked softly. No answer. I shrugged, and she carefully opened the door.
"Say cheese!" Sarah shouted, blinding us both with a camera flash. My head pounded again and I growled, rolling my eyes. Sarah was oblivious. "I found this under the house!" She showed us the old Polaroid camera. "There was all kinds of old stuff." The camera spit out the photo and she handed it to Clem. The gray faded and our startled faces were revealed. "Take one of me!"
"We're not in the mood," I shot weakly. Clem elbowed me in the ribs, smiling and taking the camera from Sarah. The older girl jumped back, sticking her tongue out. Clem took the picture, taking it from the slot and handing it to her. She giggled.
"Isn't this the best?"
Clem and I stared at each other.
"What's wrong with you guys? Where's my dad?"
I raised an eyebrow, really asking for Clem's permission to go ahead and say what we both knew ought to be said. She nodded, and that was all I needed. I turned to Sarah. "You should know what's going on."
"He told you not to tell me, didn't he?"
"He's in trouble," I shrugged. "They all are."
"What happened?"
"Everyone's gone," Clem answered softly. "It's... bad."
Sarah turned away, her shoulders quivering as tears began to fall. Though I had been dying to orient her to the world she now lived in, I realized I hadn't considered that she might not be able to make such an adjustment. I remembered what Carlos said... she was different. Different how? Either you were able to survive or not. You were living or you weren't. In this world, you weren't young, old, male, female. You were alive, or you were dead. And I suppose I'd be lying if I wasn't at least somewhat jealous of Sarah, living in the idyllic fantasy she did. It must have taken a lot out of Carlos to keep it intact. I wasn't sure if it made me respect him that much more, or that much less.
"S-sorry," she stammered. "I just need to..." she faltered, taking a seat on the floor and hugging her knees to her chest. Clem smiled weakly at me and followed her to the floor, taking a seat as well. I leaned against the mattress.
"Wanna see what I found?" Sarah asked, trying to change the subject. She took our lack of response as a 'yes' because she stood, reaching under the bed around my legs and withdrawing a nine-millimeter pistol, holding it limply in her hand. I straightened up, bristling. Clem glanced at me as if to offer some effect of calm. I didn't like guns.
"Will you guys show me how to use it?"
I looked sideways at Clem, clenching my fists nervously.
"I couldn't find any bullets," she assured. "Come on... if something goes wrong, I need to know how to use one."
Well, I agreed, of course. Though I myself didn't prefer noisy guns to quieter melee weapons, a doubted a girl like Sarah would be any good with an axe or a knife. Best everyone knew how to at least shoot a gun.
"Only if you don't tell your dad," I bartered, trying to cover our bases.
"Deal," she agreed. I relaxed, taking a seat on the bed, perfectly content to let Clem handle this one.
"First remember that it's just a thing," Clem instructed, making me smile to myself. She was such a natural leader. As she showed Sarah how to hold and aim the weapon, her hands as gentle as her words, I wondered about what it would have been like to know her Before. If we had been classmates or neighbors. Would we have been friends, or was it just that these days lost souls tended to latch onto one another like magnets? I thought, if anyone could lead us out of darkness, it was her. Not me. I was too cynical, too distrusting. And more than anything, I needed to be led. I hid it well, but I missed having competent grown-ups around. I missed direction, even though I had always had trouble following it.
"The most important thing is to always aim for the head," Clem continued, bringing me back down to earth. "Unless it's a person trying to hurt you."
"Then what do I do?"
"Just keep shooting."
"Okay. What do I shoot?" Sarah twirled around, and suddenly the gun was aimed at Clem. I jumped up as Clem ducked.
"Don't do that!" Clem shouted.
"Sorry, sorry!" Sarah quickly dropped the gun. "M-maybe I could practice outside." She paced back to the window. "Hey, Luke's back!" she exclaimed, heading for the bedroom door. I followed Clementine to the window and peered down. Sure enough, a shadow was disappearing between the trees leading to the front door, but I couldn't see Luke. When I looked back up, Clem was staring at me.
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.
I steadied myself. "Come on," I whispered.
We left the room and headed for the stairs. Outside one of the living room windows I saw the shadow again. At the first-floor landing, I raised an arm for Clem to slow down, craning my neck to see outside. Nothing.
"Sarah?" Clem whispered.
Putting a finger to my lips, I pointed to the foyer, where I could see Sarah hiding behind the archway. As we approached, she trembled with her characteristic fear. "That's not Luke. Clem... I think I know him!" Even my calm wavered, and I knew it was him. Carver.
The stranger pounded on the door. I felt a chill run down my spine. But I had given the enigma Carver so much thought without having met him that I felt almost a familiarity with the man, but my fascination didn't outweigh my fear. Bottom line: he was dangerous.
"He can't see me," Sarah squeaked. "You guys have to make him go away."
"Go find somewhere to hide," Clem directed. Sarah departed in a daze. Clem turned to me. "What do we do?"
I honestly had no fucking clue. Ignoring the pain in my arm I reached down to my waist and unsheathed my buck knife, holding it firmly in my hand. "Well... I'm gonna answer the door." I felt compelled, driven to it. I had to know something. Clem's eyes went wide. The knocks came again. "Clem... he's gonna come in whether we want him to or not."
She nodded, and I stepped into the foyer.
"Hello?" the stranger called through the window. My head pounded. I steeled myself, Clem at my side, and opened the door a crack. "Hello there," the man stared down at us, a sort of satisfied grin on his face that made me uneasy. But in his blue jeans and brown jacket, he appeared almost neighborly. I tried to keep my head quiet, tried to remember that this was a stranger who couldn't be trusted.
"Get out of here. Now," I hardened, my knife hidden behind the halfway-closed door.
"Is that how your dad taught you to greet a neighbor?" he chided, making me bristle.
"We have a gun," Clem spoke up from behind me.
"Smart girls. I would, too. But I'm not a bad guy, honey," he turned to me. "Promise you that. My family and I are set up a ways downriver." He turned, gesturing in the direction of the path Pete led us down. The path of no certain return. The river? I thought back to Pete, and our conversation.
"So what's so great about this hardware store he's got?"
"Gotta give the man credit," Pete coughed, altogether ignoring the blood dripping down his chin. "He runs a tight ship. Place is under constant guard, everyone does a job. They make their own food, have their own armory... it's like the lurkers don't even exist."
"So how do you piss a guy like that off?"
Pete leaned back in the driver's seat, sighing deeply. "I used to think, these days, that there were no more gray areas. You get busy livin' or you get busy dyin.' But Carver... livin' and dyin' is like his business. Up there, he's god. Ain't any more room for anyone else to have a say." He sounded like he laughed, but it turned into coughing again. "We all thought we were doing the right thing, leaving him. Bastard can't take it. No... can't take it. He'll come. He'll come whether you want him to or not. Scout..."
Pete's time was almost up.
Clem nudged me, inclining her head toward his waistband. He had a pistol holstered there. A Colt Python. My thoughts turned inward. How did I know that? "I'm kinda surprised we haven't run into each other yet. What's your names?"
"What's your name?" Clem demanded.
The stranger smiled, extending a hand. "My name's George."
"Clementine." I wasn't sure if by shaking his hand Clem meant to be friendly or was merely pretending.