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He hated it all. He hated how they looked at him like an animal at a zoo. Hated how they hated him back. Hated that he was excluded. And most of all hated himself.
The things he found humorous, were things that others absolutely despised. And he kept trying to be funny over and over with the same sense of humour. They hated him, the other walkers, his schoolmates, and even his family. Gary felt sorry for himself, but he also knew that it was all his own fault. He was now in the long walk, walker number 5 from Washington DC, and yet he wondered why he even signed up for this.
His legs felt like they were on fire, this deep gnawing burn that couldn't be ignored no matter how much you try. His feet were even worse, the soles of his shoes felt like sandpaper beneath his feet. The unwiped feces crusting and cracking in his underwear. And yet, he felt like he could keep going, at least for a hundred miles more.
But, now, about 250 miles in, he decided to end it. There was no point in going, hell, he didn't have a reason to keep going. Might as well give the other walkers better odds.
He walked past Garraty, his were steps determined and fast, and he was now walking at the front.
He heard McVries call out for him a couple times while walking, but he didn't care.
After getting far enough, he stopped, the lack of motion feeling strange and foreign to him.
He turned around, and faced the walkers. For a fleeting moment, he took a good look at the other's faces, and he thought that they looked like absolute shit.
Garraty had a light stubble growing, it went from his jaw all the way to his cheeks, almost at his cheek bones. The stubble, which would look like absolute dog water on others, suited him in ways it shouldn't have. His dog collar bounced of his chest rhythmically. His faded white shirt now dirty, brown and red stains around the edges, and that made Barkovitch wonder if it was blood or something else.
McVries, who was walking beside Ray, looked like he could go on like this for forever, not a bit tired. His brows were furrowed, and he looked irritated, like the smallest things could set him off at any moment. He had his shirt open at the top and buttoned at the bottom, and peaking out from beneath the shirt, was a grey tank top, soaked in his sweat. His scar, which Gary would have laughed at any other time, wasn't so comical to him now.
Behind Garraty, was Stebbins. His tall stature looked more like a burden than an advantage, at least to Gary, that is. His face, which looked so striking back at the starting line, now looked ghastly. His sunken blue eyes staring at nothing in particular. Stebbins was a weird guy, but he must be better than him to get the others to talk to him more than Gary. And now, he shifted his eyes to the right.
His eyes landed on Parker, and he felt himself turn green with envy. To Gary, Parker was the same as him, mean. But the other walkers actually liked him, accepted him as their own. And Gary wondered what differentiated them, what was it about Collie that made him better than him. Collie was handsome, he'll give him that. But that was it, he wasn't any different than him.
And then, Art. Gary had to admit, Art was a great guy, a better man than he'll ever be, at least in this life, hopefully. He was a religious fella, something Gary overheard. Art was like Gary, he wanted to make friends, but unlike Gary, he actually did. Art had called him a murderer back when he messed with Rank, and Gary knew it was true.
Garraty told him to keep walking, but he wasn't even looking at him, staring down at the road. And that made Barkovitch feel worse, made him feel like shit.
They were whores, that's what they are, so, Barkovitch called them that.
"I'm gonna be with you whores forever now okay?", he said with a shaky voice.
And just then, he did the unthinkable. He brought the spoon over to his neck, the metal cold to the touch, and he stabbed his neck.
The pain was was immediate and unbearable, feeling as if he had been drenched in cold water. With no time to think, he stabbed it again. This time wasn't any better, so, he stabbed it again.
Just ask he had stabbed himself the third time, the walkers passed him. And he saw their expressions. Oh, their faces were so funny, oh so hilarious.
Gary found their frightened faces so humorous that it almost made him laugh.
Garraty was yelling something along the lines of fucks and shits, but Gary couldn't have cared less.
Just then, his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground. So he lay there bleeding out from his neck, while the walkers left him behind.
And that made Gary wonder if anyone would mourn him, or even cry over him. Of course, no one will, it was just the truth.
He wondered how many warnings he has now, if he would be able to get up and start walking again.
He thought about Rank, if he hadn't messed with him would he be still walking now. Rank could have won, and that thought has haunted Gary ever since he got his ticket. Barkovitch didn't want him to croak, not like that, instead he wanted someone to listen to his bullshit and actually respond. He regretted everything, and now he would meet his end, pathetic and vulnerable.
He thought about Olson, about his wife, about the deal, and if it would actually be fulfilled. He thought about Garraty, and if he was queer or not because he was acting like it. But all that didn't matter in the face of death.
He heard the soldiers giving him the third warning, and with all the willpower he had left he lifted his hand up. He lifted his hand up to the soldier standing in front of him and he gave him the middle finger as a last act of defiance. He tried to talk, despite his throat. All that came out was gurgling. As blood filled his lungs, he only had one thought.
"Walker number 5 from Washington DC becomes the 45th to go", was what he thought in his dying moments.
And just then, a shot rang out in the silence of the road. Ending Gary Barkovitch's pathetic and miserable existence.