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“If you do this, I will never forgive you.”
Hank wiped a tear from Clementine’s cheek.
“It’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll see you in a few days. I’m ready, and I have a plan. I’m doing everything right.”
Clementine turned away from him, ashamed that her anger was making her cry. She wasn’t sad, she was furious. She wanted to scream at him, hit him, force him to stay with her, but it was no use, his mind was made up.
Hank knelt down in front of her and kissed her belly. “I’ll see you in a few days, Pixie. Be nice to her while I’m gone.”
“We’re not calling her, Pixie.” Clementine scowled down at Hank and he just smiled up at her, cute, and perfect, and hers.
“Of course not, it’s definitely a boy,” Hank said with a wry smile. Another car pulled up and Hank stood. “I should go.”
Anger melted into panic in an instant. The tears fell anew and they were not born from anger anymore. This was really happening, and he wasn’t backing out.
“Please,” Clementine gasped out, shocked at how broken her voice sounded.
“Less than a week, I swear.” Hank hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you.”
“Please Hank.” She grabbed his face and searched his eyes for any signs of uncertainty. There were none. “Come back to us.”
“I will.” He gave her a cheeky smile and smacked her playfully on the butt.
She hated that it made her laugh.
“You and the baby are going to be taken care of, I promise.” He was walking backwards away from her.
“That’s a lot of promises, Hank Olson,” Clementine called out after him.
“All for you, Orange Blossom.”
And then he turned and walked to the gate, a tall man with long brown hair was already at the gate. Hank began talking to him cheerfully. And then he was through the gate and she couldn’t see him anymore.
She turned and braced her hands on the roof of their car, feeling like she was going to be sick. Which wasn’t all that uncommon as of late, but she was fairly certain this time wasn't the baby’s fault. Her life was choosing to walk away from her.
She stood there for a few minutes trying to catch her breath.
More cars pulled up, a different young man getting out of each one. Some had tearful goodbyes, others did not. But they all eventually disappeared through the gate.
“Hey darling, you okay?”
Clementine jumped and turned to find another one of the doomed young men standing in front of her. He looked older than a lot of the other Walkers she’d seen arriving. Probably late 20s, rather than early. He was Black, like her. He put a hand on her shoulder and searched her eyes with concern. He had a scar across his cheek. Clementine thought he had a kind face.
“You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“Oh, um. I’m fine.” Clementine said quickly, wiping her eyes.
“Your man over there?” He asked her, inclining his head toward the gate.
She couldn’t bring herself to say yes, so she just nodded.
“Well, I hope he wins.”
Clementine must have looked shocked, because the man laughed brightly.
“I mean that,” he said with a smile, and stepped back from her, taking his hand off her shoulder. “You gonna be alright?”
“I’ll know in a few days.”
He nodded once, his smile turning sad. Then he turned and walked over to the gate, at the same moment another walker left a tearful woman on the opposite side of the road.
She locked eyes with Clementine, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Both of them acknowledging the other’s pain, but unable to offer any comfort. The end of the other woman’s pain by necessity meant the eternal pain of the other.
They broke eye contact at the same time and got back into their cars. The other woman drove away and then Clementine’s was the only car still there.
She stared at her watch, it kept creeping closer and closer to 9am.
Try as she might, she couldn’t get time to slow down.
Then 9am came and went, she flinched when a gunshot went off, and that was it.
Hank didn’t come running back at the last moment, through some miracle, backing out just in time. No, he was walking now.
Clementine turned the car on, and began the drive back to her home in New York.
—
The drive took her almost 11 hours with how often she had to stop to pee.
The sun had just set when she pulled into the driveway of her home.
She walked in the front door and was immediately met with Cathy throwing her arms around her. She shouldn’t have been shocked that her best friend was there waiting for her.
“Oh Clem,” Cathay said into her hair.
“Is he still walking?” Clementine asked. She needed to know that before she knew anything else.
“Yes,” Cathay said with a sad smile. “You weren’t listening to the radio?"
“I couldn’t.”
Cathay nodded, she understood. Her own husband had also put in for the walk that year, he’d been put on the alternate list. Clementine suspected that part of the reason Hank hadn’t backed out was to keep Scramm from having to walk in his place.
“Is Scramm here?”
Cathay shook her head. “He doesn’t want to watch.”
Clementine nodded, she was mad at him and that wasn’t fair. Hank made his own choice.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to sleep?” Cathay asked. She hesitated for a moment and then added, “Do you want to watch?”
“No,” Clementine said. “But I will anyway.”
—
Clementine hadn’t wanted Hank to put his name in, and that was before she was pregnant. They were stupid, they’d been trying for over a year, and Clementine had never imagined that the universe could have been so cruel as to finally give her what she’d been praying for right then.
She found out two days after Hank received his letter. He never once wavered in his resolve to go through with the walk.
One month later and here she was, sick as a dog, and with her idiot of a husband on The Log Walk.
Clementine and Cathy watched the walkers struggle up a hill. In the chaos it was hard to tell who was getting their ticket, but they caught sight of Hank still walking an hour later. Cathay convinced Clementine she needed to sleep, and so she did, curled up on the sofa in the living room, the TV still playing.
—
The next morning Cathy woke Clementine just in time to watch Hank talk about wanting 10 naked ladies. Cathy seemed appalled, but Clementine actually smiled. For whatever reason Hank wasn’t telling people about her, that suited her just fine. She may have been pissed at him, but she never doubted his loyalty or his love. He said he had a plan, maybe this was part of it.
She watched men die.
Watched Hank focus on his gum.
She watched him fade in and out of awareness. Cathay kept saying that maybe he was just concentrating, focused on the walk. But no, they’d been together since they were kids, she knew him better than anyone. Clementine knew her husband, and she knew he was fading.
So when a tall blonde boy, Stebbins, she was pretty sure was his name, pulled one of the other walkers aside to tell him to check on Hank, that he thought Hank was done, she agreed with him. She watched in horror as one of Hank’s new friends, The Musketeers, they kept calling themselves, walked over to him, and tried to get him to speak.
It unfolded in front of her in slow motion, she slipped off the couch and sat on her knees, facing the television. She was vaguely aware of Cathy telling her they should stop watching, but she couldn’t look away.
He quoted the bible, charged the soldiers, got himself shot, and began to call out something that could only have been meant for her.
“I did it all wrong.”
I’m ready, and I have a plan. I’m doing everything right.
He had said those words to her before he left.
And now he was calling out to her.
“I did it all wrong.”
Finally the walk continued far enough down the road that they couldn’t hear Hank’s screams as he bled out.
Clementine finally let herself cry, and in Cathy’s arms she sobbed herself to sleep.
—
She was gently woken by Cathy the next morning.
“They’re talking about him.”
“What?”
“They’re talking about Hank, and about you.”
“Me?” Clementine asked.
She sat up, feeling numb.
There were only six Walkers left, and she recognized all of them. Particularly Pete, who had been the man to comfort her at the starting line, and Art who had run back for Hank the night before.
“Her name’s Clementine. Like the song.”
“Oh my god,” Cathay breathed out, Clementine shushed her.
“Okay, fellas, let’s make a promise right now, whoever wins has to do something for his wife. How about that?”
“Oh my god,” Cathay said again.
“Cath, please.” Clementine spat out.
Slowly the boys all agreed to give her money, to take care of her. And even when she felt like she had no tears left to cry she somehow found a well within herself and began to cry again.
“It doesn’t matter,” Clementine sobbed. “It doesn’t matter what they give me, it won’t bring him back.”
That night they sang a song for her, and she couldn't take it anymore. She finally turned off the television, and told Cathy to leave.
Finally, for the first time in five days, since before Hank had left her at that starting line, she crawled into their bed. She curled in on herself on his side of the bed, his pillow pressed to her face, desperate to get something of him. She fell asleep with the smell of his shampoo calming her.
She didn’t watch most of the rest of the walk, but she did watch the end. She knew who would win. Somehow she knew. So she wasn’t surprised when Pete was there wishing for a carbine and holding it up to the Major. She was shocked to see him lower it without firing a shot. And turn to keep walking. He didn’t make it far before they collected him, he looked broken. Clementine wasn’t sure if he would survive.
But three weeks later, on June first, an envelope showed up on her porch full of money.
—
Seven Months Later
Clementine had been sitting on a chair facing her front door all day.
Now nine months pregnant, it was not the most comfortable she had ever been. But she could never get comfortable these days.
She was beginning to think he wasn’t coming, maybe six months of money was all she was going to get, she already had enough to keep her and the baby quite comfortable for years, maybe decades. But then— there it was, the faint sound of something being set down just outside her door.
She stood up and threw the door open. There was a man, retreating from her in the darkness, his back to her.
“Pete?” She asked. He stopped walking, his shoulders slumped, but he didn’t turn around. “Peter Mcvries, please talk to me.”
His entire body tensed up and for a moment, Clementine thought he was going to bolt, but instead he slowly turned around, like it hurt him to do that simple thing. She watched him take in her swollen stomach, shock spreading across his face. Of course he hadn’t known, they weren’t exactly doing human interest pieces on the families of the dead walkers.
Pete regained his composure and let out a long low whistle. “I didn’t know he’d left behind two people, I’ll double the money from now on.”
“Pete, please,” Clementine said, exasperated.
Pete stopped talking and just stood there. Clementine got a good look at him for the first time since the walk started. She could see a new heartbreak behind his eyes that hadn’t been there when they last spoke. She recognized it all too well, she knew that same heartbreak was staring back at him from her own face.
“Will you come inside for some tea?” she asked.
He smiled lightly at her, it didn’t reach his eyes, but he still replied, “sure.”
He followed her into the house, stopping her from picking up the money on the front step, and bending down to grab it for her.
“I’m sorry,” Clementine said, while pouring hot water into a mug. Pete was sitting at her small kitchen table, in the seat Hank used to occupy.
“For what?” He asked, confused.
“For what you lost.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yes Pete,” Clementine replied, exasperated. He was as bad as Hank. “I didn't watch the whole walk after Hank— after Hank got his ticket. But I saw you win, I heard what Ray said, I’m sorry you lost him. That’s rotten luck to find a person you love like that only to lose them.”
Pete shook his head, but he didn’t respond, instead he focused on the tea bag in his mug, slowly watching the water darken.
“You don’t have to lie to me Pete, I saw it in your eyes then, and I see it now.”
Pete forced a smile, and looked up at her. “What do you see?”
“Loss.”
Pete sighed. “That doesn’t mean we have anything in common Clementine, you don’t have to pity me to make me feel better. You lost more than me, by a wide margin.”
Clementine shook her head, and sat down across from Pete. She grabbed one of his hands, desperate for him to know that she understood. “No. I see you and we’re the same. I’m a widow now. That's— That’s what I see when I look at you.”
Pete scoffed, but he didn’t protest again. She let his hand go.
"I wasn't lying, when I talked to you before it started. I really did want him to win, I wanted any of them to win. Anyone but me. But I did think of you on The Walk. I didn't know who you were with, I never guessed Hank. My money was on Stebbins."
Clementine made a face and Pete chuckled.
"Yeah, I missed pretty badly with that one."
They drank the rest of their tea in silence.
He thanked her for the tea, and got up to leave. Which was fine, she didn’t need him to stay longer than he was comfortable with. She walked him back to the door.
“I meant it about the money, I have more than I know what to do with, I’ll double it from now on.”
“Thank you Pete,” She said with a smile, opening the door. Pete started to leave but he caught his shoulder. “Could you not run away any more? When you bring the money? Come in for tea at least.”
“Alright Clementine, I could do that,” Pete said. “I really am sorry, dreadfully so.”
She didn’t miss the reference to her song.
“I know Pete.”
He nodded his head at her and walked down her front steps.
“Next time you can meet him”
“It’s a boy?” Pete asked. He didn’t stop, but he did turn around and walk backwards down the path to the street.
“Yeah. I still don’t have a name.”
“Don’t you dare name him Ray or Art or some shit like that.”
Clementine laughed. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Good. He deserves to grow up not tied to The Walk.” Pete reached the end of the walk and paused.
“Maybe it will be done by the time he’s old enough,” Clementine said.
“Maybe Clementine, Maybe.”
She didn’t think he believed her. But that was okay, she had a hundred first of the month tea dates to try and convince him otherwise.
“Good bye, Pete.”
“Good bye, Clementine.”