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Alicia stared aimlessly into the distance, the only sound disturbing the stillness around her the crackling of the fire. These days listening for the rhytmic shuffling and familiar growling of the dead was secondnature. Gone were the days when every unexpected sound caused the hairs on her neck to stand up, when not even the gentle waves of the ocean could soothe her back to sleep...when the death and the destruction still disturbed her to her core. The only thing that disturbed her now was how quiet it was. The roaring rage inside of her had stilled. Watching that video of her mother had been like a a hose to a blazing fire and all she was left with was an ashy feeling in her mouth.
She missed her butterfly knife at times like these. Something to occupy her hands, the familiar swishing and clicking of the blades. She'd lost in along the way...like everything else. The new weapon was more efficient allowing her to keep more distance and didn't require as much strength to get the job done. Using it had fueled her after the stadium. Every swing and stab a reminder of that day at the water park when one wrong decision had made her lose everything. She'd often felt a pang of regret for Naomi, the responsibility of talking her into staying and getting killed weighing her down. When she saw her get out of that car, dressed in signature Vulture garb...after she thought her dead...she just snapped. She'd been suffering day after day...her mother dead, her friends lost, her home up in flames...and there she was, the coward. Of course she'd ran at the first sign of trouble. In that moment it didn't even matter if she'd been on their side from the start like Charlie or betrayed them after...all that mattered was that her mother and brother were dead. And Naomi was alive and well. The turncoat had abandoned ship and nursed their enemy back to health. The tight band barely holding her sanity together snapped and she turned around and fired, a roar escaping her lips.
Then that stupid cowboy had gotten in the way. She refused to feel guilty about it. That would mean stopping to think about things and she couldn't afford to do that. There was only one way to keep going and that was forward forward forward until every last one of those bastards was dead. And now they were. And here she was. And it was oh so quiet. Until it wasn't.
"What do you want?" She grumbled.
"It's my turn to keep watch. You should get some sleep. It's been a long day." Al sounded surprisingly sympathetic. Alicia hated it even more than her self-satisfied way of probing for everyone's story as if she were providing some grand service to humanity.
"It's fine, I can't sleep anyway," Alicia mumbled, making a conscious effort not to sound too rude. In truth, she felt embarrassed. Her behavior these last couple of days had been appalling. She knew that, she just didn't care. But after hearing her mom's hopes and dreams...that she wished for Alicia to retain a light that had been snuffed out the second Madison's torch led a horde of the dead inside the Stadium...she felt ashamed. All she had left of her mother was her memory and the ideals she stood for...and she had let her down. God, she had gotten Nick killed!
To her complete mortification, a sob escaped unbidden and immediately she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, are you -"
"Don't!" She didn't mean to snarl yet it seemed it couldn't be helped these days. Alicia took a deep breath and made an effort to look Al, who had backed away instantly startled by the sudden mood swings, in the eye.
"Look, I'm sorry okay...just leave me alone. Please."
"I can't do that." Al said smoothly.
"Why. Not." Alicia bit, trying to keep her cool.
"Because my SWAT van smells like feet. That thing may be built like a tank, but it definitely wasn't built to house 7 people for an extended period of time, none of whom have bathed in the last...oh...15 to 55 days or so." A pauze. "And because you're not okay," her voice lilted.
"Why do you care how I feel...I tried to kill you a few hours ago." To Alicia's surprise, Althea laughed.
"You are the living, breathing embodiment that what I do matters. Do you have any idea how many times I was this close to giving up? Getting ziptied and held at gunpoint on the regular gets old after a while.
The people I've lost...the things I've sacrificed...traipsing through rain and snow all over the country meeting people more vile than you could ever imagine, talking to a stranger one moment and finding their decomposing body at the next reststop...But I kept going. Trading one story at a time. Sometimes all it took was a smile and and a dry place to escape the heavy rains, othertimes I'd get my ass beat so hard and barely escaped by the skin of my teeth with a lucky knee to a very unlucky groin...and sometimes...sometimes we'd get off on the wrong foot and come to an understanding over some noodles. But everytime...I'd get my story...I'd fill up my little box of tapes because"one day" the truth would matter. And that day is today, Alicia. Today isn't remarkable because I almost died," Al laughed incredulously. Today is exceptional because of you."
The wet sheen covering the intense look in Al's eyes made Alicia feel strangely uncomfortable. So she lashed out.
"Look, just because being the local onion reporter with more layers than the average teenage OOTD youtube vlogger didn't scratch that itch deep inside doesn't mean you can claim my family and my family's journey of pain...and suffering...shattered dreams...and death as your own personal life fulfillment goals. Get your own life and stop reminding people of theirs. The truth isn't some grand thing that shall set you free. It's messy and painful and sometimes it's best left buried!." Alicia panted.
"Buried like your brother?" Althea bit. Low blow. So Alicia lunged at her. The look on Al's face would've been comical if not for the dead guy 2 inches from nibbling on her shoulder. But that would have meant she got in the last word. And Alicia couldn't have that. That's the only reason she ripped her favorite jeans (her only jeans) getting to her in time, eyes determened and the familiar woosh of her weapon singing in the clearing.