Death After Death (#2)

Chapter Forty-Nine

Karl punted a small, round pebble with the tip of his sore, worn out toes, watching it bounce and scramble away from him in a series of light clicks.  

The sun scorched the back of his neck, as he stared helplessly down what seemed like a never-ending road; a road that they had been walking for over a month now.

The dull grey of the tarmac plagued his eyes, an ever-present image engraved into his eyelids. Just tarmac, and cars, tarmac and cars, with the odd bright paintjob brightening up his day.

"I swear, if we've come all this way and this place isn't even real..." Karl threatened.

"You'll what?" JJ asked, well aware that the statement was rhetorical, but he knew how to press his brother's buttons.

Karl jabbed at JJ's shins with the blunt end of his spear, diving over the bonnet of a blue van as his twin chased after him for revenge.

Max and Dawson walked a little way ahead, scouting the road for any approaching clickers, or less than friendly passers-by.

Rifles hung loosely from both of their hips, brushing innocently against their legs as they walked in tandem, but equally ready to carve through any unwanted visitors.

"I've been meaning to ask something..." Max said.

"Go on," Dawson sighed, already less than impressed with the slight comedic tone in Max's voice.

"I still don't even know your first name."

"That's true, you don't," Dawson acknowledged bluntly, not meeting Max's gaze, but it was too late, his interest was peaked.

"Does anyone know?" Max asked.

"Nope."

"Not even the boys?"

"Definitely fucking not," Dawson scoffed.

"So, it's something silly," Max grinned. "Something you hate."

"I served in the army, Max. Surnames is just what we used, and that's what I go by now, nothing more to it than that."

Max wiped the smirk from his face, and lowered his tone ever so slightly, "Funny aren't they...names I mean. Before all this, they were everything. We had passports, driver's licenses, email addresses, security measures to stop someone stealing your identity. Now what do we have? Words. Just one word, from one person to another. Hell, maybe our names are all we really have left. God knows if I'd just asked Lizzie more about her background as soon as I met her...it could have been different."

"Why did your parents end up going with Max?" Dawson asked.

Max pondered briefly, before chuckling to himself softly, "You know, I can't even remember now. My great grandfather on my Mum's side...or maybe an old uncle on my Dad's? It was a family name, I know that much."

"Isn't that all you need to know?" Dawson queried.

"I doubt I'll ever know why Katherine chose the name Lizzie," Max reeled off in a tangent. "Or how many names she had in mind, how long it took her to decide, none of that."

"Do you still think she was right to keep your daughter from you?"

"Right? Maybe not," Max answered. "But I can't say that I don't understand why she did it. I guess we all have our reasons."

The pair continued to zigzag through the scrapyard maze before them in silence, before Dawson took one particularly deep breath.

"Hildegarde..." she mumbled, almost inaudibly.