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"Finish the story Garraty."
"No. No I don't think so."
Cold dissapointment settled sickly in Stebbins stomach. There they were now, McVries gone. The next kill would be the last one of the year. Here he was with Ray Garraty by his side. When he looked up at the other he could see nothing but apathy on the others hollow face. Stebbins found himself wishing that Garraty would look at him again. Meet his eyes and talk to him. Keep walking and stay by his side. But he knew he wouldn't.
"Let it go then"
He said coldly, smiling bitterly.
"If there are such things as souls, his is still close. You could catch up."
He said lightly. Please react, he pleaded silently. Look at me. Swing at me. Just react.
"I'm going to walk you into the ground."
Garraty mumbled quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
"Are you?" Stebbins asked hollowly. "We'll see.
He let the dissapointment settle through his body and shivered. The rain had long since plastered his hair to his forehead and into his eyes. It would be over soon, he decided. Atleast he hoped so. He'd win. He had promised his mother that he would win. He had promised himself years ago that he would win. He wanted to look up and stare at the blurry sight of his fathers tank in the distance. But the efford of the action was too much for his aching bones. He hated his father. All these years he had spent hating him. So why did he want him to see him, taking off his shades and place a gentle hand on his shoulder?
"Garraty."
He mumbled before he could stop himself. He wanted to talk, he realised. He didn't want to be alone now. Not in this cold rainy night, hundereds of miles away from his home.
The other hummed in aknowlagement. It was a small, hoarse sound, barely audible over the pounding rain.
"What do ya' wanna wish for?"
"Please just stop."
The words made him sadder than he wanted to admit. Then again, was there a point in not admiting it now? Now that nobody was there to listen exept this other boy who he barely knew anything about.
"I mean it." He slurred. "I wanna know."
"Why bother talking?"
"Because I'm lonely."
He decided that now there truely was no point in keeping his act up. One of them would be dead by morning. And the other would never remember the conversation. He looked at Garraty for a moment. The others big, floating eyes stared back, unseeing.
"I don't know."
Garraty said softly.
Stebbins nodded. That's the answer that many walkers give. And another point of evidence for his theory on every walker in history being suicidal.
"Is the major really your dad?" Garraty asked tiredly. The way he was mumbling he sounded like a small child refusing to go to sleep at his bedtime.
Stebbins nodded, another shiver running down his spine.
"He's one son of a bitch isn't he?" He asked bitterly. It sounded like a weak whine.
"Such a bastard." He continued, vaguely aware of how ironic that statement was.
"I hate him Garraty." He whined, voice growing shriller. "I really hate him."
Garraty said nothing. Stebbins saw it as his sign to continue his tantrum. No point in repressing it now.
"I hate him!" He tried to scream, though it didn't come out nearly as loud as he wanted it to.
"He made me into his pawn and I didn't even realise it! I just went along with it! I thought I was smart Garraty. But I was so stupid!"
He howled, fighting back the sour bile once again crawling it's way up his throat. He sobbed an empty, childish sob. No tears came out. Or maybe they did, he couldn't really tell with the rain. Garraty stayed quiet. Stebbins wished he didn't.
—
He calmed down from his meltdown. It didn't change much. The night was still cold and the rain was still annoying. But now he was even more tired, panting lightly like an exhausted dog. He was vaguely aware of his limping steps but he had long stopped feeling his feet. He dropped back slightly to Garraty. He was walking next to him again. He didn't dare try to look at the other, fearing that if he bent his neck, his head would break clean off.
"I'm gonna win I think." He stated absentmindedly.
"You think?" Garraty replied tiredly.
"I don't know. Maybe." His own words had stopped making sense to him long ago.
"I think you will too." Garraty admitted after a long pause.
"Give up then."
"No."
Garraty was stubborn that was obvious. Though Stebbins really didn't have it in him to be mad. All that the words caused were a dull dissapointment with an edge of despair.
Stebbins was dreadfully tired. His limbs felt heavy and although he had stopped feeling his feet a while ago it seemed like they were made of cement as he picked them up and put them down. He absentmindedly tumbled against Garraty and was glad when neither of them were warned. He remembered being warned for stumbling into the other earlier, though he wasn't sure if it had been hours or days.
He had dropped slightly behind Garraty now. He stared at the back of the boys head until his eyes unfocused. In a split second descision he quietly reached for the others arm. Garraty flinched violently but didn't stop.
"What are you doing?" He slurred, an edge of paranoia in his voice. Stebbins didn't have an answer for the other so he just leaned slightly into him. Now they were next to eachother again, Stebbins being forced to walk at the same pace as Garraty. The other relaxed slightly as Stebbins pressed against him and decided to close his eyes for a while. Garraty was right there next to him and he'd get woken up if he got a warning. He was pretty sure he wasn't walking on any at the moment.
—
"Stebbins."
A quiet voice woke him from his daze. Stebbins head was bent downwards and when he opened his eyes he was greeted by the dark, wet road beneath him. It was still dark but it had stopped raining. His neck hurt from the position he had bent it in.
"What?" He croaked out tiredly.
"Are you still alive?"
"Obviously."
"Oh."
It took Stebbins all the efford he had left to slightly bend his neck and look at the other boy.
"I thought you had become like Olson."
Not yet, Stebbins thought. Not yet. He just lightly shook his head as a response and slowly let go of Garratys arm. He wanted to go home. He wanted to struggle with their old keyhole as he tried opening the door before giving up and throwing himself against it again. Wanted to step into the slightly too cold house and be greeted by his mama. Wanted to fall into her arms and tell her she had been right. This had been such a stupid idea. He should've never left home. Should've listened to his step dad when he told him his mother couldn't handle another heartbreak.
"I wanna go home."
Garraty said quietly, as if he had been the one to read Stebbins mind for once.
"What do 'ya wanna do when you get home?"
Stebbins found himself asking stupidly.
"Sleep for a month."
The reply came eventually.
"I wanna go back to my mom."
Stebbins muttered before he could stop himself. Such a stupid thing to admit. Such a childish thing to admit. And yet there was no point in keeping it to himself. Garraty didn't laugh at him. He was too tired for that.
They fell back into a heavy, exhausting silence after that. There were no more words to be said and no more things to be done but walk.
—
The day he had found out he had been chosen for the walk, his mother had cried. She had cradled him in her arms on the floor like he was a child, sobbing at his descision. She had known that this is what he wanted to do of course, but she had prayed that he'd never be chosen. Those prayers had been in vain as her freshly seventeen year old son had left her house on a cold spring evening on his way to the airport, wearing her old raggedy sweater and carrying his favorite childhood snack.
Stebbins had thought he would win. He hadn't cried. Had hugged his mama more for her sake than for his own. Because he thought that surely, in five days time she'd see him again. He'd come back home to her with all the riches they could ever need before he claimed his wish as his own, finally confronting his father. He had been so stupid.
There were no more tears to cry now. Just quiet self loathing as Stebbins started accepting his fate. Garraty was too stubborn to be walked down. They'd been walking together for hours. Every once in a while Stebbins would grab onto his arm and they'd walk like that for a while. He wasn't sure if Garraty even noticed the touch.
Suddendly, he knew that his mother would see him again. Just not alive. She'd get his body shipped back home and have to bury her son without the help of the man who had been supposed to raise him. She'd get to sit in their moldy flat all alone, spending the rest of her life under pitying glances of their old neighbors. He had been so stupid. He should've stayed home. He wanted to go home. He really just wanted to go home.
A small, aching part of him wished he had spent more time as himself and not as a number. Not as the majors bastard. But what was he if not that? He had no interests other than walking and no motivation other than spite.
For the first time since he started walking on may first, he felt scared. Helpless and small and stupid. He had gotten so used to his feelings consisting of anger and numbness. But no, not this time. This time he felt scared and sick and he was sure that if he still had something in his stomach, this would be the moment he'd puke it out in a panic. He'd never been scared of dying. Where he'd grown up most people didn't make it to twenty. Hell, he had wanted to die since he was young. This is why he had joined this shitshow, hadn't it? He had deluded himself into thinking that he wanted to walk for the price when really, he had wanted life to stop. But now he didn't. God, now he didn't. Now he wanted to go home. The walk could stop now. The soldiers could stand up from their tanks and go to stretch their legs. His father could turn around and walk away for all he cared. He just wanted to go home now.
There was a hand on his shoulder. Weak and gentle. He turned his head and was sure he could feel his bones creaking like they were made of rusty metal. He stared at the hand, and then at the person it belonged to. For a second he couldn't make out much. Just big, brown eyes that had lost all will to live. But he wanted to live. Stebbins wanted to live. A surge of adrenaline shot through him. Horrified, his body lunged forward and clawed at the other boy. A pathetic cry for rescue.
"Oh, Garraty!"
He cried weakly, but his hands lost their hold on the others jacket. He felt himself fading as he fell into the other. Please, he thought. Please, just hold me up. Hold me over the water, I can't keep swimming. But Garraty didn't. Stebbins landed on the cold, damp pavement with a thud. He wanted to go home.