To The Grave

Chapter 37. Randall. Day 172.

Tents littered the sand, a large disorganized beach community sprawled across the beach. People rushed between areas, some carrying laundry, others holding baskets of fish.

I grabbed another stick from the pile, my knife running across it, sharpening the tip. I discarded it into another pile, watching as Winona leaned over picking it up. She struggled beneath the weight, hurrying it over to the men creating a maze of wooden spears in the ground.

The breeze carried the salty smell of fish towards me. I stood up, stretching my legs out. Marty looked up at me, making a new pile of sharpened sticks. He pushed his hair back, his hand pulling on his eyebrow piercing. He winced in pain, moving the curved barbell with his fingertip.

"I'm better than carrying sticks and fish around all day in 80 degree weather, right?" Winona asked, her voice slightly psychotic. She dropped a new load of sticks.

Marty laughed, grabbing a new one. "You're like the mailman, but sticks and occasionally food instead of packages."

"That's not an answer to my question." She groaned as she walked away, carrying the few broken sticks towards the pile of scrap for burning. She grabbed a few clay pots from someone working the fire, carrying them back across the camp.

I looked back at the stick in my hand, opening my mouth for words. "We're not living like this now, are we?"

Marty shrugged his shoulders, looking around. "I don't know what were doing."

I shook my head, tossing the stick into its respective pile. "We're carving sticks into spears so some nuts can make a shitty makeshift wall that probably won't stand for two rotters on a shitty beach that will probably flood over in a month or two when the snow in Washington melts."

He shrugged again, looking at Kennon from his seat. "Us, Ferris, Winona and my mom? We barely lasted a week without my dad and Molly. This is the best we have for right now."

"I think we can do better than this." I spoke just loud enough for him to hear. I stood up, walking up to the trees, moving into the thickness of shrubs. I moved my hands to my face, wiping away the tired. I shoved my knife into my pocket, slowly unzipping my jeans.

My chest stopped the rhythmic breathing it'd grown adapt to, as I heard leaves crunching. An unfamiliar voice spoke out. "How's my favourite delivery girl?"

The soft voice I knew too well, answered back, "I just think my talents could be used somewhere else. Anywhere else really."

I turned to see Winona smiling as she spoke to Kennon. His voice came out raspy and quiet. "Everything will be figured out soon, they'll find a new place for everyone to stay. It'll be nice." I moved, fixing the zipper on my jeans, hiding so I could still hear them.

"You say that like it's happened before." She muttered, stopping in the trees to talk to him. "Stay here, while I grab more sticks."

I moved back down the hill, my foot catching on a rock. I slid down, catching myself. I stood up, pushing my hair back. I looked up at Kennon, and his gun focused on me.

"I was just pissing. Take a smoke break Silent Bob." I held my arms up, watching the gun move to face the ground. Kennon took a deep breath as if he was going to say something. Instead he shook his head and walked back to the small path.