Chapter 12 – Backpedaling

We continued on through the heedless wood, the well-worn path stretched out before us, never-ending. Eventually, Nick fell behind, drifting ghost-like through our ranks until he was the last of the pack. I'm worried about that kid, I heard Luke mumble to Clementine. Keep an eye on him for me, would you?

That's what Pete had said. Keep an eye on him for me. He's a good boy.

I felt Clem's eyes on me. I raised my head, nodded to let her know I was here. I was here.

"So..." Nick started, "you still gonna stick with us? I know we... got off to a rocky start, and I can't make any promises it won't get rougher..."

I can't make any promises, I had told Pete. Who can, in this world?

"We don't have anywhere else to go," Clem replied, and I knew she believed it. I knew the matter was closed for her. But as I followed them down that path I felt Carver's words tug at me, like a rope knotted around my spine. Felt his gun in my hands, heavier than I had remembered it being.

"Well, then, welcome to the party," Luke joked.

"Yeah, thanks," Clem retorted mildly.

Luke backpedaled, whipping a map out of his back pocket. "We're smarter than we look. I figure we got about four or five days to reach those mountains." He pointed to the trail we were on, outlined in red marker, and then to the range a few kilometers ahead of our location. "Now if they're tracking us, we should be able to lose 'em up there."

"Five days?" Rebecca whimpered from behind us.

"It's gonna be okay, Bec," Alvin comforted.

"We have to keep moving now," Carlos affirmed. "It's our only choice."

Five days.

I didn't sleep.

When I laid down my head pounded, and I only thought of Pete, trying to remember everything he said as it slipped further and further into the recesses of my addled mind. I wanted to hear his voice again, even if it reverberated in my head hard as drums, I wanted to hear it. But it was gone, and slowly Carver's voice crept in to take its place.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Scout," I replied. "Scout Carver."

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, smiling wickedly.

How I had recognized him I never knew. I could barely remember what my parents looked like, though it had only been three years since I'd seen my father; when you aren't looking at someone every day, it's easy to forget the details. Shapes of noses and mouths. I remember that my mother's cheeks were soft and her lips warm when she kissed me at night, but when I thought of her eyes I saw only the hollow voids where eyes should be. I knew my father longer, but in my last memory of him his face was obscured, and so my memory was obscured.

But something about Carver was constant, unchanging. It was his very nature to be like the rock in the middle of the ocean that does not give, does not shift, whose pieces do not slough off in the storm. He was weathered, yes, but hardened, unshakable. Like God. Like the Devil himself.

And when sleep grabbed hold of me its tendrils were cold and greedy, and the nightmares snapped me awake with every horrible twist. The first night no one said a word to me, though they each took their turn on shift watch. The second night was no better. The umpteenth time I was jarred to consciousness I heard their voices, whispering in hushed tones about me. I laid back down on the frigid earth, hugging my coat around me.

The third night, I didn't even bother trying. The hours the group slept passed in a blur though I remained stagnant, my back against a boulder, one hand clutching my knife and the other, usually, a cigarette.

The fourth day we began to climb. The ascension to a higher altitude took me off guard and I lagged behind, dazed and heavy with exhaustion. Clementine was peacefully oblivious. I did my utmost to remain stable, to make sure she didn't know I'd been haunted over the past few days. She slept as well as could be expected, though by the fifth day I couldn't hide it any longer. I must have seemed shrouded in the pallor of insomnia, a ghost.

"What's wrong?" she asked, drifting to my side as the group pressed onward down the path.

I shook my head. "Nothing. Just tired."

"You haven't been sleeping," she replied. It was not a question. I sighed, looking up at her with a sad smile.

"No. But it's okay. That's what happens when you get to sleep inside for a while."

Her brow furrowed.

"It's too comfy," I explained, chuckling weakly. "Now my body's like... fuck this sleeping-outside shit, ya know?"

She lightened up, shaking her head. I knew she knew I was lying. And I knew she would let my brushing off of this issue slide but now her eyes were on me. She knew my feelings about the group but even I was hanging on Luke's every direction. He was our only guide through the woods and I prayed his five-day estimate was accurate. I felt uneasy aside from exhausted. Carver was following us, following me. But it wasn't just me he wanted. I stared at Rebecca's back as she and Alvin walked ahead.

Sure enough, our breakthrough came on the fifth day. We reached the end of the path and a deep valley cut by a river, a rickety bridge connecting one side of the woods to the other. The mountains loomed in the distance and though it was only mid-afternoon I could already see the moon hovering above them, threatening us with nightfall.

Rebecca took a seat on a log with Alvin, grateful to stop and rest.

The rest of us approached the edge of the cliff, peering down. It must have been hundreds of feet to the river. No way around. Clementine clambered atop a boulder, reaching down to me. I shrugged off my rucksack and took her hand, laying on my stomach next to her. Calm, even smiling some, she retrieved the binoculars Luke handed up.

"See anything?" he asked.

"They better see something," Alvin muttered. "We been walking for a damn week."

"We've got to find some shelter," Carlos implored.

"There's a lift or something," Clementine reported. I squinted, barely making out the thin white cables.

"Ski lift?" Luke asked.

"I've never been skiing," Clem replied, looking at me. I shrugged. I'd never been, either. "There's a building on the mountain."

"What's it look like?"

"It's... big."

"Must be that old ski resort. Sounds like a good place to spend the night," Luke decided. Nobody objected. I tapped the binoculars and Clem handed them over, refocusing them on the bridge.

"There's a little white house on the other side by the bridge," I muttered.

"How big is it?" Carlos shouted from behind.

"Pretty small."

"Does the bridge look passable?" Luke inquired.

"I think so," I returned. "Rickety, sure. But passable." I already felt my pallor lifting, glad to have a job to do.

"Good."

Clem and I slid down from the boulder, hiking our backpacks over our shoulders.

"We have to cross that bridge," Carlos commanded. "Let's go."

"Hold on, now," Luke argued. "We can't all go sprintin' across that thing, okay? We get spotted out there we're gonna be trapped."

"Going around the river will take too long," Carlos retorted.

"Right, but look, we've got no idea who's out there. Okay, I'm gonna sneak across and make sure it's clear before we bring the whole group over."

"You think splitting up the group is a good idea?"

"I never said it was a good idea, but... it's better than risking everyone at once."

"What's your plan?" Alvin chimed in.

"Well, Clem and I can scoot across low and slow and make sure nobody's waitin' for us on the other side."

I considered this. It was true that Clem and Luke had hit it off. Though I couldn't always hear what they were saying they'd become pretty thick over the past few days, discussing strategy and their personal histories and what had become of their lives and the people they were responsible for. It was almost as if Clem were becoming a leader of the group, along with Luke. I was perfectly content not to lead, despite that I often felt I knew the better course of action. It didn't hurt that Luke had named Clem as his partner for this expedition, but it wasn't gonna stop me from joining them.

"I'm coming."

Luke turned to me. "Scout, I need you here."

"I don't give a fuck where you need me," I pivoted, squaring off with him. "I go where she goes."

"We'll have a tough time covering you from back here," Alvin ignored our tryst, more concerned with the rest of the group's safety.

"Well, we'll just turn back if it gets hairy."

Carlos shook his head. "Clem and Scout should stay here. They're..."

"They're what?" Luke challenged, folding his arms.

"They're just little girls, Luke."

"Maybe I should stay," Clem appeased, looking to Luke.

"Or maybe we should cut the bullshit," I stepped forward, glaring at Carlos and feeling the weight of my restless nights seep into my skin and make me angry. "We've all seen how your parenting style has played out, Carlos. So quit trying to baby us and worry about your own."

"Scout," Clem pled, putting her hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

"Let's go, already," I reached for my waistband, unsheathing my knife and pacing toward the bridge. "We're losing daylight."