Choices 2 - Chasing hope [ENG]

8.

The next morning, we wake up at dawn and walk softly towards the North-East, as planned yesterday evening. Owen and I walk in front, while Emily stomps along behind us.

I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet, but I hope she isn't mad at me yet. The sultry heat leaves us no peace, and unfortunately, our supplies of water are far from sufficient.

"Before arriving at the city where we were imprisoned, were you with a group?" Owen suddenly asks me, without any warning.

Since last night, we've only exchanged a few words, haven't talked much, and never about our past experiences. I know, however, that if we want to build any mutual trust, sooner or later, I will have to open up to them, or at least to him.

"Yes, I lived in a city," I replied, not making eye contact.

"A city? Really? Wow, I wish I had this luck too" comments the black-haired boy.

I turn towards him: it's the first time I've had the chance to look closely at him in the sunlight. He doesn't have brown eyes, as I thought, but they take in a dark shade of gray, while his hair is pitch black. On his face, he has some imperfections and cuts, especially along the jaw. On his cheeks there is only the slight shaving of beard, which makes me think he is older than me.

"How about you? Didn't you have a group?" I ask, but realize too late that my mind is too busy to focus on the answer.

"Yes, I had a group, a few months ago. We had all escaped together, after they had driven us out of our city, but after a short time, many were killed by a group of infected, it was terrible," explains the boy. Inevitably I see a veil of nostalgia fall on his face.

A lump rises in my throat: I don't know how to console him, also because if I had been able, I would have done it with Emily too, even with Ashley...

"I'm so sorry, Owen," I say, this time seeking his gaze.

The boy turns to me, and our gazes meet.

"That's how it went by now, it's useless to think about the past. My dad always said, he was great," Owen recounts again. The sides of his mouth stretch slightly, surely a happy memory.

"I can imagine," I reply.

Moments of silence follow. I turn back slightly to Emily. She is walking with her head down, her arms crossed, her face covered by light brown hair.

"But if you lived in a city" Owen's voice brings me back to attention. "Why did you leave? Were you a prisoner there too?".

I almost laugh: prisoner, in Jackson?

"No, of course not," I reply. "There was my family."

Owen frowns. "I'm not following you".

"Don't judge me, Owen. You don't know anything about me" he comments, trying to hold back my usual grumpy tone.

Owen adjusts a shoulder strap. "Precisely because I don't know anything about you, that I'm asking you these questions. But I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, let alone judge you."

I look up at him, and I see that he is giving me the slightest smile. Without thinking, I replace it.

We walk for hours in the forests, until we see a devastated city in the distance. We don't have many possibilities, but we could take the opportunity to look for some supplies. After Owen and I have worked out the idea, I turn to Emily to ask for her opinion as well.

"How about it, Em? Shall we stop and look for something?" I ask.

The girl nods, without raising her head too much.