Alone

Chapter: 16 // tell me it's real •

A casing drops by my foot; he lifts the gun to his temple and braces for the impact--before I can spring into action and stop him, we are met with the sound of the empty chamber clicking. I don't know how my arms end up around his shoulders, how the gun slips out of his grip onto the soil we're standing on, how his arms then go around me and his tears spill down my neck. His chest vibrates against mine as he sobs harder, and I rub his back, crying myself as I try to console him. I can't even process what just happened, but I know what didn't happen.

Our exchange is interrupted by the sound of roamers closing in on us, due to the two rounds he popped off a moment ago. I pull away, quickly pull off my boot and peel the sole back to grab my butterfly knife; he picks up the gun and swings over my head to pistol-whip a roamer behind me.

"Thanks," I breathe out, then push him aside spotting one of them behind him, jab my knife into the roamer's crown. But there's too many to go combat, we have no choice but to run back onto the road where it's cleared. I feel him grab my hand; I glance at him, knowing what's to come.

"We have to run, the road seems clear."

"I'm with you. Just lead." He says, his demeanor a total 360 from just a few minutes ago. Before he was ready to murder me, now he's telling me to lead. I lead us through a group of roamers, and we knife and pistol-whip our way through them, for there's only a few of them and we can take them easily. Once the road is visible, I lead him up it, towards the Hilltop.

"Where are we going?" He says, stops mid-way over the hill.

"Hilltop. Back to Hilltop."

"Why'd you leave?" He inquires, and I don't have the energy to walk and talk, but I figure it's going to be a long journey there, anyway.

"I had to know."

"Like when I went back for her?" We start up the hill again.

"Yeah, like that." I pick at my bloody fingernails. "I got my answer. It's not what I wanted."

"You don't have to. I didn't want to, either." I glance at the side of his face; his jaw clenches as if he is trying to suppress something unpleasant that is fighting to come out. I lace my fingers through his, attempting to make him calm again, attempting to subdue whatever negative energy has just come over him. His cuticles are stained with blood, too, whether it's Mikey's or theirs, I don't know.

"The Saviors," he starts, and I feel him squeeze my fingers. "They're still out there?"

"Not for long. We've got the sanctuary fenced in with roamers; they're trapped. A bunch of us are going tonight, make them surrender." I feel his eyes staring upside my head, now.

"They won't. They've got more people, ammunition, more guts. They'll find a way."

"We found a way. We will." I return.

"Their way will be victorious. No matter how right our way is."

"We can try. I can."

"How are your wounds healing?" He asks, followed by an awkward pause.

"They're getting better, thanks." Translation; I'm slowly dying. My leg has been killing me since I stepped out of the car, but I didn't have time to stop and rest in that situation.

"Sam used to say I gave amazing piggyback rides." I can hear the smirk on his face as he says this, those eyebrows that meet in the space between them when he smiles and frowns. He folds his knees slightly to accommodate my small frame; I hop on his back, wrap my legs around his waist and arms his neck. I lead him through the woods, the shortcut to the Hilltop I used to leave last night. It feels vaguely familiar on his back, it's as if my brain is trying to remember something that never happened, yet I remember how it feels.