Three Orphan Pilgrimage (The Alternative to TWDG's Final Season) [Walking Dead]

113. The Wicked Flee

Clementine felt herself tensing up as she heard something carried on the night air. It was a strange moaning unlike any person or walker she'd ever heard. It got louder as it was joined by another moan, and then another as they suddenly formed a rabid chorus of feral screams all yelling over each other. Those anguished cries compelled Clem to move, like a spell puppeting her body. She tried to run and felt something suddenly gripping her ankles.

"Careful," said Dilawar as he caught Clem before she fell over. "Might want to get your sleeping bag off before you go for a walk."

Clem carefully pulled her feet free, unsure how she'd even forgotten she was using a sleeping bag. Looking around her dim surroundings, she recognized this as a gas station they stopped in to rest. Clem assumed she must have been having another nightmare, but then it came into focus, that cacophony of inhuman wailing washing over her like a tidal wave.

"Do... do you hear that?" asked a terrified Clem.

"The coyotes?" asked Dilawar. "Yeah, I hear them."

"Coyotes?" repeated Clem. "Is... is that what I'm hearing?"

"That's my guess. Listen." The chorus of screaming began to fade as suddenly as it started. Clem could make out individual yells that sounded a little like dogs howling. "It's dawn, they're probably signaling each other it's time to go home."

Clem started rubbing her left forearm as one final coyote continued to howl long after the others stopped. "They're... they're not gonna come in here... are they?"

"They usually avoid people," said Dilawar. "Or at least the ones in Michigan did before everything changed." Dilawar looked over at Clem. "I'll keep an eye out though, you can go back to sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping," mumbled Clem as she picked up her backpack. They had ridden most of the night, only stopping a few hours ago to rest in shifts. Clem was tired but didn't sleep. She'd toss, turn, and occasionally stifle a cry when her thoughts drifted somewhere she wished they hadn't, then she'd start all over again. Somewhere in that routine she may have drifted off briefly. It all blurred together as one restless night. And now that she could see the sun was up it seemed pointless to even try.

"Anything happen while I was not sleeping?"

"Not much," said Dilawar. "I'm just waiting for Sab, Eskiya and the other two Fair Haven folk to get back. They went to scout ahead."

"You haven't heard anything? Nothing on the radio?"

"I've been changing channels every minute, just in case the Vaquero are nearby like back in Salt Lake City. Nothing so far."

"I'm... I'm gonna go outside."

Clem had grown tired of the smell of mildew while lying in a dark corner. She slowly cracked open the door, her eyes briefly blinded by the morning sun. Coming out, Clem felt a familiar wave of anxiety from being out in the open, but it quickly passed as the oppressive cold washed over her. The bits of grass growing through the cracks in the concrete were covered in a thin layer of frost.

Just outside the front door was a crude fire pit with a couple of charred pieces of wood inside it, waning embers still warming the air around them. Clem knelt down beside it and carefully fed the simmering fire a few sticks to keep it going. Beside the pit was another sleeping bag zipped all the way up. Clem knew Bart was in there. For some reason, she insisted on sleeping outside. Past her were a pair of gas pumps with two horses hitched to them.

There was a tall one with a bright white coat and a slightly shorter one with a gray coat. The shorter one turned its head and looked at Clem suddenly, which unnerved her. It was the smallest of the four and it still towered over Clem. Miguel insisted they were safe but seeing this huge animal stare at her expectedly with its big brown eyes made her nervous.