To The Grave

Chapter 46. Randall. Day 361.

I sat down against a fallen log, feeling the cool morning air against my skin. The fire was low, starting to go out. Winona's head rested against my lap, her eyes closed, but her fists balled up and ready to swing.

I moved my hand to run through her hair, my fingers untangling her long black hair. Her eyes opened, fluttering to life. She looked up to me, letting a soft smile stretch across her face.

"How'd you sleep?" I asked, keeping my voice quiet.

She smiled again, shaking her head. I moved out from under her head, watching her sit up. "Where are we heading today?" She pulled all of her hair together, gliding her fingers through it. She wrapped a hair tie around it, pulling on it one last time.

"Where ever Marty and Ferris take us." I stared at her, looking at every detail of her. The way her hands shook. How her big blue eyes looked at the ground too much. "Hey, Nona, I just want to say I think-"

"What are you two doing up so early?" Marty asked, his voice tearing my gaze from his sister.

I sighed, letting the words go. "Just getting ready to go." I stood up, grabbing my gun from the ground beside me. I brushed off the dirt, moving away as Marty began speaking to his sister.

I looked at the small camp, everyone waking up and beginning to pack everything up. I grabbed my prepacked bag, slinging it over my shoulder. We'd been moving every two days all spring and summer, so everyone had gotten quicker at packing and unpacking.

Food was becoming harder to find. Most boxes had been chewed through by mice leaving the food inside covered in shit and half eaten. Everything else was beginning to expire. Hunting was proving to be a waste of time with the rotters scaring away animals by the day.

I moved with the group, listening to a few people discussing where to go today. We moved out of the woods, back to the road.

The asphalt was starting to crack with age, small bursts of green sprouting out. The sun was beating down harshly, burning my skin. I pushed my broken glasses up, feeling the old painters tape holding it in place. Duct Tape was far too valuable of a material to waste on a broken pair of glasses.

I looked around the crowd looking for the short girl with all of her waist long hair pulled into a ponytail, probably slouching to one side of her head but still swaying across her back with every step. Her bright eyes sticking out like a sore thumb on her sad and sunken in face.

She was in front of me, a few people blocking me from her side. I moved closer, trying to navigate my way near her, moving quicker than the talkative crowd. She wore her favourite pair of blue jeans, the one with the worn knees, one trip away from tearing.

I finally met her side, turning to walk backwards with the mass to face her. She smiled, "Randall!"

"Winona!" I reached into my shirt pocket, pulling out one of the cigarettes Marty had given me.

"What brings you to this side of the road?" She pointed to the double yellow paint lines, cracking on the asphalt under the boiling sun.

I took a drag off my cigarette, blowing the toxic air out. I shrugged, "My steering wheel pulls to the left."

She nodded, pretending she understood. "What time is it?" She asked.

I looked at the watch on my wrist. "Three. We've walked for six hours."

"No wonder I want to die." She pushed sarcastic words out, learning from her brother.

I laughed, feeling bad for her poor legs. "Like we haven't been doing this for a year?"

--

The sky was growing orange and pink. "We have about an hour until sundown so lets get our tents up and a fire going."

I moved over to the tent crew, helping them unpack the tightly bunched bags, metal rods snapping in and out of place and tarp trying to fly away.

Winona knelt in her usual spot, tucking leaves and scraps of flammable trash under some larger logs. She stood up, watching someone pour lighter fluid on it, starting a match and dropping it into the wood, letting a fire erupt.

She moved away, grabbing extra wood and setting it near the fire. The camp soon became full of tents and life.

The sun was down, leaving our eyes to adjust to the darkness. I sat near the fire, eating the few animal crackers I had been given. Everyone slowly stood up, their conversations dying down as they left to their tents. My only friends remained near the fire. Marty sat alone across from me as he did most nights, waiting for the cold to force him inside. His dull green eyes stared at the flames, watching them flicker in the air.

He sat quietly beginning to shiver in the cool breeze. Winona wiped her tired eyes, standing up. "Good night." She muttered, walking to her mom's tent. Ferris, Marty and I remained, not breaking our silence.

I stood up walking over to the small tent housing a sleeping bag and my backpack. I pulled an old iPod out, carefully thinking about what two songs I would limit myself to. I turned it on, the dim screen shining against my face. I scrolled down to the B's, struggling to find the song.

I listened through the headphones to the old song, looking at the close top to the small tent. "All the lonely people, where do they all come from?"