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CHAPTER TEN FATAL FLAWS
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It's been a few weeks since they left Jackson. March fades into April, snow melting away, revealing nature's colors of bright green and honey brown. The harsh breeze is replaced with the warmth of the sun and the birds begin to sing again, reminding Alaska of times when things were much simpler. The travel, so far, has been an easy one. Hunting for food is successful for the most part, lighting small fires at night is part of their routine, and encounters with Infected have been relatively close to none.
The journey has been calm, believe it or not. Alaska can't really complain. In fact, the stillness of this trip is shocking. Alaska feels like she's waiting for something bad to happen, but it never does. Not yet, at least.
What bothers Alaska is the silence. Always the loud, defeating silence. At this point, she's convinced that there will always be an uncomfortable coldness between the two of them. One step forward, three steps back. No progress. Just... quiet.
Maybe Alaska was stupid to think that Ellie would ever actually forgive her for everything that happened. She should just accept the fact that Ellie will only ever keep her at arm's length, indifferent to anything she does or says. She's lost count of how many times she's tried to break through the walls with meaningless conversation.
It never works. She never gets beneath the surface.
Alaska might just give up and accept that Ellie will never speak to her unless it's absolutely necessary. She dealt with it for two years. She'd thought that this time would be different. But maybe she doesn't deserve to be forgiven. It just feels like a never-ending cycle; a stubborn cause and effect.
Something Alaska has noticed about the forest is that it allows her to think. There isn't much else to cure her boredom out here. Her Walkman stayed tucked away in the drawer of her nightstand. She'd do anything to have it with her right now, to avoid this awkwardness between them. Alaska mentally scolds herself for leaving it behind.
