The Long Walk
CHAPTER THREE: MILES 6 – 91
written by fallingwthstyle - illustrated by mio and Maud WThe echoes faded and they kept walking relentlessly onward despite what had just happened. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a single warning issued to any of the walkers. Butters still had a death grip on Kenny’s hand.
“Dude...” Kenny finally said. “You shouldn’t have looked.”
“I know,” Butters replied miserably, wiping a bit of vomit from his chin with his free hand. He looked down, spotting the puke on the end of his left boot and left knee of his jeans and shaking his head.
Stan and Kyle had sped up and were walking beside Kenny a few feet away, still holding hands; Kenny was glad neither of them had drawn a warning, and he turned to give them a sympathetic look. They walked quietly together for a few moments; Stan finally broke the silence.
“Dudes...that was fucking brutal.”
“I know,” Kenny replied; he felt like he was replying for Butters as well. “You didn’t watch, did you?”
“I did,” Kyle replied as Stan was shaking his head ‘no’. “I watched the whole thing. His head just...disappeared.”
“I looked right afterward,” Butters said, whispering as if he was telling them a secret. “There was nothing left of his head...”
“Told you not to look,” Kenny repeated, and after that they stopped talking while they absorbed what had just happened. The crowd had begun making noise again, a steady murmur of hundreds of conversations replacing the wild cheering of a minute ago.
“It’s like one thing to know it’s going to happen,” Stan added. “And another thing entirely to actually see it.”
“We only got six miles this time before someone got shot,” Cartman said incredulously from twenty feet behind them. “That was pathetic.”
“And it’s going to happen thirteen more times before we’re through,” Kyle replied.
Kenny was about to say something about how only one of them would actually be around to witness it that many times, but he suddenly realized that Butters was walking slower and the grip on his hand had loosened. He turned to ask if he was all right but Butters spoke first. His eyes were terrified and his face was the color of cottage cheese.
“Kenny? I—I don’t feel good.” And with that, he staggered and almost toppled over backward. Kenny grabbed him under his shoulder and eased him down to the asphalt, crouching down beside him and supporting his back with a hand against his ribcage. He was dead weight under Kenny’s arm.
“Warning! First warning, numbers six and twelve!” He could hear a jeep come to a halt behind him; two of the network news vans stopped behind it.
“Come on, dude,” Kenny said urgently to Butters’ unconscious face, gently shaking him to try to rouse him. “Come on back.” He looked up and saw Stan and Kyle continuing to walk, both of them looking over their shoulders at him. “Keep going,” Kenny called to them. “We’ll catch up in a minute.” He turned back to Butters, who had opened his eyes and was staring at him blankly. “Come on, man...wake up.” He had a sudden idea, and unscrewed the lid on his canteen and poured it over Butters’ head. An elderly man near the front of the crowd closest to them was licking his lips hungrily.
Butters shook his head and sputtered, awareness rushing back to his eyes. He was trying to say Kenny’s name but wasn’t making any sound.
“Dude...we got about fifteen seconds until we both get our second warnings. Can you get up?”
Butters’ eyes grew wide and he shook his head. “N—no,” he whispered, color beginning to come back into his face. “My legs won’t work yet.” One of his hands flew to his face, fingers dancing over his lips. “Kenny! You should go! ...I—I’ll catch up—“
“Nope. Nope. Just shut up. We’ll take the second warning, sit here another thirty seconds and then get up, okay?”
Butters was staring at him incredulously, but Kenny’s attention was drawn behind him as two soldiers emerged from the stopped jeep. Both had their rifles pointed downward toward the road as they approached; one was staring at the watch on his own wrist as they drew closer.
“Just breathe, dude,” Kenny said quietly, returning his gaze to Butters. The two soldiers stopped ten feet away; a hush had fallen over everything, and he knew they were moments from receiving their second warnings. Butters licked his lips and began taking slow, deep breaths, their eyes locked together while Kenny looked at him encouragingly. The soldier staring at his watch nodded and the other soldier raised a megaphone. Kenny winced and pulled Butters closer.
“Warning,” the voice echoed from the surrounding hills; the crowd had become completely silent once again. “Second warnings, numbers six and twelve.”
“Okay, we got thirty seconds now,” Kenny said urgently, glancing at his own watch and noting the exact time. “We don’t want to get third warnings; you can get up before then, right?”
Butters nodded, and sat up even straighter under Kenny’s arm. He was holding himself upright now, so Kenny moved his hand from under Butters’ armpit and reached up to slide one of the straps of Butters’ backpack down his arm. “Give me this fucking thing,” he said, sliding the other strap free so the backpack slid to the asphalt. He shrugged his shoulders, removing his own backpack and setting it next to Butters’. “You can carry mine for a while, okay?”
Butters looked stricken, and Kenny shook his head. “Don’t argue with me. You gotta try to stand up now, okay?” Butters didn’t move, and Kenny started to get up himself, trying to pull Butters up alongside him. “Dude! Can you get up?”
Butters finally nodded and slowly stood, looking down at his legs as he straightened them. Kenny picked up Butters’ backpack and put it on, then picked up his own much lighter one and looked at his watch. “Twelve seconds...just start walking slow, okay?”
Butters took a tentative step, then another, and Kenny began walking beside him. He didn’t need to look at his watch to see if they were going fast enough, and he didn’t want to know how close they had come to receiving third warnings. He watched Butters walk, his earlier confidence seeming to slowly come back. He was staring intently at the pavement directly ahead of him as he walked.
Kenny glared back at the two soldiers who had been about to shoot them if they hadn’t started walking again. “Why don’t you make yourselves useful and fetch us a couple canteens of water?”
“You can ask for one for yourself,” the one holding the megaphone replied. “Your friend has to ask for his own.”
Kenny felt his hand being squeezed. “I’d like a canteen too, please!” Butters said loudly and Kenny snickered.
“There you go, asshole! Two canteens, right now. Chop chop!”
The soldiers finally began to look angry at Kenny’s baiting and they walked back to their jeep. He turned his attention back to Butters. “Do you need anything from your backpack? Something to drink, or...”
Butters shook his head. “No...I’m all right.”
Kenny nodded, and they kept walking. Another soldier he’d never seen before came up behind them a minute later and wordlessly handed Kenny two canteens. He opened one, took a sip and offered it to Butters, who shook his head.
The sun rose higher before them as they gradually reached the crest of another long rolling hill and began walking toward a distant valley. The right side of the otherwise deserted interstate still teemed with thousands of people.
“Kenny?” Butters finally spoke several minutes later. He sounded humble. “You can give me my backpack back now. I’m okay, really.”
Kenny looked at him and suddenly burst out laughing. “Your backpack back?”
Butters smiled uncertainly at him. “Well, yeah!”
“Why don’t you let me carry it for a while, okay?” At Butters’ guilty look, he added, “I don’t mind, dude. This thing’s heavy.”
“Ken, I feel bad enough that you got two warnings because of me.”
“No big deal,” he tried to shrug it off. “All we have to do is keep walking for two hours and we’ll be right back to zero again.” He saw they were going to overtake Stan and Kyle soon; both of them had their heads turned, looking back at them. “Dude, you know I’m not trying to steal your stuff, right?” Kenny waited for him to nod before continuing: “Seriously...I’ll give it back whenever you want; but why don’t you let me carry it for a while, okay? Here...you can take mine if you want.”
“All right.” Butters looked embarrassed as he took the lighter backpack and put it on. “Thanks, Kenny.”
“That’s what friends are for, dude.”
“Th—thank you for probably saving my life too. I—I don’t know if I would have gotten up and started walking in time if you hadn’t have helped me.”
Kenny nodded and thought: Or fallen and busted your head open. “Hey man...I’m just glad you’re still walking next to me.” He realized at that moment he was falling in love with this kid, and he hadn’t even known him for two hours yet. “Just don’t faint every time someone gets taken out of the walk, okay?”
Butters smiled and squeezed Kenny’s hand. “Okay...that’s the last time I’m ever going to look.”
“Good idea.” They caught up to Stan and Kyle a minute later, and at their curious looks, Kenny shook his head. “We’re going to walk on ahead for a while, okay? Having two warnings is kind of nerve-wracking.”
“See you later,” Kyle replied as they passed by. Kenny gradually guided Butters toward the left side of the interstate, putting more distance between themselves and the crowd. After a few minutes, he let go of Kenny’s hand to take one of the canteens and have a drink. Kenny watched him fondly, and as Butters screwed the lid back on, he broke the silence that had descended over them.
“Hey Ken? You were going to tell me something before I fainted.” Butters was looking at him again, with an expression that made his heart race. “Well, actually it was just before that kid got shot...but, do you still want to tell me what it was?”
Kenny felt a twinge of guilt at that. “Yeah, I sort of need to, I guess,” he replied, looking past him at the other walkers, most of whom were behind them by this point. No one would be in earshot as long as he kept his voice down. Stan and Kyle were walking some fifty feet behind them near the centerline of the highway, still holding hands and having their own earnest conversation. The rest of the walkers were spread out over several hundred feet, the jeeps slowly following along in the breakdown lanes while the crowd partied on their right.
“Butters? There is something I have to tell you about...now that you’re my friend and all.” Butters positively beamed at that and Kenny went on, “Dude, you’re not going to like this very much. Try not to hate me, okay?”
Butters squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t hate you, Kenny. What is it?”
“Um...look, you can’t tell anyone else about this, or it could really fuck things up for me and my family, okay...?” Butters nodded, and Kenny added: “I’ll trip you if you tell anyone else what I’m about to tell you.” Butters laughed, knowing Kenny wasn’t serious because he was too nice to do that, and besides, that would be against the rules.
“Kenny...whatever you want to tell me is safe with me. Okay?”
Kenny nodded, searching his face one last time before beginning to tell him what he’d promised himself (and his parents) he’d never tell anyone.
“Okay...well, first of all...my last name isn’t really ‘Cramer’. It’s McCormick.”
Butters was staring at him, confusion finally settling into his face as he realized Kenny was entered into the Long Walk under a false name. Someone far behind them drew a first warning, and Kenny noticed they both subconsciously sped up as a result.
“Oh...kay,” Butters finally replied. “So then, why the different last name...Kenny McCormick?”
“Because, unlike you, I’m not in this thing to win,” Kenny replied, watching Butters’ face closely. “And I know exactly when I’m leaving, too...because my dad’s got a very long bet placed on me, that I’m going to be removed from the race at 10:54 Wednesday morning...10:54 and twenty seconds to be exact.” Realization was starting to dawn in Butters’ eyes, and Kenny hurried to finish. “My plan is to rack up two warnings and make sure I get my third one exactly thirty seconds before that time. If I do this right, my dad’s going to win about a billion dollars, give or take...and it would look suspicious if he’d won that kind of money betting against his own son.”
There was more that Kenny wished he could tell him, but couldn’t. And only my parents know about my immortality curse/blessing, and this is the second year in a row we’ve done this, only unlike last year when my dad won a measly $100,000, this time we’re going balls to the wall with a ridiculously long bet. Butters’ face had gone from understanding to sorrow, and Kenny found himself wishing he’d never started having feelings for this kid. “You, ah...hate me now, don’t you?”
“No, Ken,” Butters replied sadly. “I couldn’t...I just...” he trailed off.
“I know,” Kenny said. He was about to continue when Butters interrupted him.
“Ah, I just wish I’d never gotten into this! And now that I’ve met you I’ve got all these dumb old feelings...” He kicked a small rock angrily, sending it skittering ahead of them where they would pass it again in a few seconds. “I like you, Kenny! I—I don’t want to watch you get shot!” He looked down sadly, lining up his foot to kick the rock again. “But...I guess it doesn’t really matter if I know exactly when I have to say goodbye to you. I’ll have to anyway, no matter when it is. A...and if I only get to spend the next two days with you before then...well then I guess that’s okay too.” He sighed and squeezed Kenny’s hand. “I just wish we could have met before today.”
Kenny squeezed his hand back. “Me too, man.” They walked quietly for a few minutes. Butters gave him a curious look and Kenny smiled back.
“You know...I’ve read stories about other people doing what you’re doing; but I always thought it was an urban legend or something...”
Kenny laughed. “Most of them probably are. But no... I’m the real deal, dude. I have an older brother and younger sister, and two useless parents; this is the best way I can think of to take care of them.”
“They’re going to miss you, Ken; even more than I will.” Kenny grimaced, and Butters let go of his hand for a moment to look at his watch. “So Ken...I guess that means..?”
“Yeah,” he replied, also looking at the display on Butters’ watch. They were walking 3.8 miles an hour. “In just under 48 hours, I’m going to take my third warning and bow out of this go kart race. And I’d rather spend as much of that time with you as I can...rather than walk by myself or those other guys. I like you too.” He reached out to take Butters’ hand again. “A lot.”
They traded backpacks an hour later, once they’d walked off one of their warnings. By 3:00 that afternoon, dark storm clouds had begun to build up on the horizon to their left and behind them. The sun began shifting in and out of the clouds, casting swiftly-moving shadows across the landscape ahead of them. A cold wind began to blow and Kenny and Butters subconsciously hunkered closer together against it. Stan and Kyle were walking a few feet away, talking quietly to each other.
“Hey you guys, they just said on the radio it’s going to rain,” a walker named Harrison said, and there were groans of dismay from some of the others. Kenny saw some of the people in the crowd looking toward the sky nervously as well, a few of them putting on raincoats while others began walking toward the shelter of their vehicles.
“That wasn’t in the forecast!” Cartman said angrily. Kenny looked at Butters and smirked.
“He’s never happy unless he has something to complain about,” he said, and Butters nodded. “I’m sure you’ve got some kind of raincoat in there next to your peanut butter.” He reached into his own backpack, feeling for the emergency poncho he knew his mother had packed for him. Cartman was right: There’d been no rain predicted for the rest of the week, and he wondered if anyone had come completely unprepared for it.
Butters had pulled a large trash bag from his pack and was carefully unfolding it. “I brought this,” he said, holding it up to study it. It was one of the biggest trash bags Kenny had ever seen. It was nearly as long as Butters was tall, and much wider than the lawn and leaf bags he’d ever seen.
“Dude...that thing is huge.” Kenny knew there was a dick joke in there but kept it to himself. Butters had completely unfolded it and found a small hole he’d made in the bottom of it, presumably to look through.
“It’s a contractor trash bag,” he explained. “It’s real thick plastic; and I made a hole so I can see where I’m going.” He was smiling bashfully. “There’s plenty of room in it for you too...if you want.”
Kenny grinned, looking from the bag his friend was holding to the poncho he’d removed from his own backpack. It was one of those emergency ones that people buy, throw into the trunk of their cars and forget about. He eyed the picture on its packaging, noticing that it didn’t go much lower than the waist of the person wearing it in the picture.
“You sure you don’t mind?” Kenny asked. It would clearly keep him drier than what he’d brought; and the idea of walking alongside Butters inside a trash bag bigger than any he’d ever seen before was suddenly very exciting to him.
“Not at all,” Butters replied eagerly. “I’ll just make another hole in it for you.” He was already running his fingers along the bottom edge of the bag, looking for the right place in which to do it and tearing through the thick brown plastic once he had.
Kenny looked around at some of the other walkers, most of whom were checking their own packs for raingear. Kyle was putting on a poncho similar to the one Kenny had brought, while Stan was walking alongside him empty-handed. Kenny nudged Butters and indicated Stan with his chin. A look passed between them and Kenny nodded.
“Here, dude,” he said, offering Stan his poncho.
Stan’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “Wow...are you sure?”
“Uh huh.” Kenny grinned. “I’m going to share my friend’s trash bag.”
Stan glanced behind Kenny and nodded. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Good luck staying dry.” He handed Stan the poncho and turned back toward Butters, who was smiling. Kenny felt good about what he’d just done until he saw a couple other walkers glaring at him. Helping each other wasn’t against the rules, but Kenny knew that in a couple of days it will be every man for himself.
“That was nice, Ken,” Butters said, carefully folding his trash bag in half and holding it against his chest in anticipation of when they would need it. Judging from the storm clouds towering high overhead, it wouldn’t be long now.
“Yeah? I’m not sure everyone agrees.” The wind picked up at that moment, whipping the plastic around in Butters’ arms. The first fat drops of rain spattered the highway in front of them, and the hills to the north were fading in a growing mist. “Uh oh...so how do we do this?”
Butters had unfolded the bag again and was holding the open end high over his head. “Here Ken, hold the bag up like this.” Kenny reached up, grabbing on to the opening in the huge trash bag as well, and they easily got it settled over their heads, never once breaking stride. There was a moment when Kenny couldn’t see that he was certain they were going to draw a warning but then he located the hole Butters had made for him to look through and they were able to walk onward, matching each other’s strides inside the bag. Their timing was perfect: Just a few seconds later the rain began falling harder, and visibility around them fell to just a few feet.
“See?” Butters said happily, smiling at Kenny from two feet away from his own opening in the bag they were sharing. “This is pretty nice!”
Kenny nodded. It was much warmer and more humid than he’d expected; as well, the bag ending just below his knees made his steps shorter. But at least they were out of the rain, and even if it got a lot colder later they would still be comfortable.
“Warnings! First warnings, numbers two, four, nine, and thirteen!” The amplified voice seemed surreal coming from out of the mist beyond their warm little plastic cocoon. Kenny recognized ‘nine’ as Stan’s number and turned his head to look for him. He was walking next to Kyle, doubled over in the rain, wearing the poncho Kenny had given him and trying to walk faster. He looked miserable.
“I hope he’s okay,” Butters said sadly, reaching once more for Kenny’s hand. His palm felt extremely moist.
“Me too.” Kenny noticed a couple of the walkers hadn’t put on rain gear of any sort and were walking through the downpour in various degrees of misery. The crowd was more subdued as well, those who’d chosen to stay cowering inside raincoats or beneath umbrellas and sheets of plastic. It seemed possible that he and Butters were the two most comfortable walkers in the race. “You were right...it’s really nice under here with you.”
“Yeah.” Butters was watching him with an intense gaze, their strides matching each other’s perfectly inside the trash bag. Kenny felt Butters untangle his fingers from his hand; his palm was cold when Butters’ warmth left it. “Kenny?” Butters whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of rain hitting the heavy plastic covering both of them. “You tell me if I’m doing anything wrong, okay?” Kenny stared at him wordlessly as he felt Butters’ fingertips moving up his thigh and over his zipper. His fingers curled, cupping Kenny’s cock through his jeans. “Is this all right?”
Kenny released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Yeah,” he whispered, and Butters’ hands pressed harder, drawing a gasp from him. “Goddam, dude...” Kenny moaned, reaching up to run the palm of his hand over the swell of Butters’ ass, his fingertips digging between his thighs. It was getting harder to remember to keep walking. He moved his hand around to the front of Butters’ jeans and felt his erection straining beneath the material. Butters’ pupils were blown wide open and suddenly nothing else mattered; they were alone together, encased inside a world of plastic while rain drummed down around them.
Butters unsnapped Kenny’s jeans and reached inside his underwear. He felt a thumb sliding through the slickness at the tip of his dick and jerked as his knees threatened to buckle. He reached for Butters’ cock as well and a moment later they were walking together in the rain jerking each other off, hidden from view by a trash bag.
“It would be so worth taking a warning if we could stop long enough that I can feel you up properly,” Kenny said quietly, and Butters’ eyes lit up. He nodded, and Kenny asked: “Do you want to?”
“Yes,” Butters replied urgently. They stopped walking and took a single step toward each other inside the trash bag. Butters reached around to wrap his fingers around their erect penises as Kenny’s arm circled the small of his back to pull him close. He slid his hand below Butters’ waist to cup a buttock and burrow his fingertips into his crack.
“Warning! First warning, numbers six and twelve.”
Butters’ hand only jerked them a couple times before he cried out, and as Kenny felt his cock and Butters’ hand grow warm and slick he moaned, closing his eyes and shuddering with his own orgasm. For a moment the rain, the crowd, everything was gone except the sensation roaring through him; then the world came crashing back and he realized they would be drawing their second warnings in a few seconds.
“Dude,” he breathed. “Start walking...and holy fuck, thank you!”
Butters nodded and they began walking again, letting go of each other to button their pants back up. Kenny realized a moment later that Butters was laughing and turned to look at him. “You have no idea how much I wanted to do that, Kenny.” It was the happiest he’d sounded since Kenny had met him seven hours ago.
Kenny nodded. “That was like a gay pornographic potato sack race,” he said, reaching for Butters’ hand inside the bag and lacing their fingers together again.
The rain stopped a half hour later and the setting sun came out behind them just enough to begin drying the road, which smelled of wet asphalt. Raincoats and ponchos were removed and put away; Butters carefully folded up his giant trash bag and stowed it in his backpack.
Stan and Kyle sidled up to them a few minutes later, both of them with knowing smiles. “That was fucking awesome, you two,” Stan said.
Kenny grinned. “You guys saw that, huh?”
Kyle laughed. “Dudes, are you kidding? You’re lucky half the world didn’t see what you guys did!”
“Most of the news crews are at the front and back of the race,” Stan said. “I guess no one cares about us guys in the middle...yet, anyway.”
“You could have become Long Walk sensations,” Kyle put in.
“It wouldn’t have lasted,” Kenny said. “We could have fucked in the middle of the highway with CNN broadcasting it live to the world, but as soon as the next person got shot, they’d forget all about us.” He looked at Butters and back at Stan and Kyle as if for confirmation. “Right?”
“Sure, Kenny,” Kyle replied, rolling his eyes.
Kenny noticed that Butters was laughing almost too hard to walk. He turned to him and Butters spluttered, “I’m okay, Ken...it’s just that—“ He stopped talking to take a couple deep breaths and exhale them before finishing, “My dad told me not to even say hello to anyone here!”
They laughed, and the walk continued. Once the sun had set, some of the jeeps near the back turned on bright spotlights mounted on their roofs, illuminating the way from behind with garish white light and casting long stark shadows ahead of them. They put on warmer clothes as it grew later and the temperature dropped; Kenny had an orange hoodie that he pulled tightly around his face, Stan pulled a hat with a red poofball on top onto his head, while Kyle had a brown jacket and green ushanka to cover his ears. Around midnight, Stan and Kyle drifted toward the middle of the highway, leaving Kenny and Butters alone. They talked about nothing and everything, Butters going on at some length about his plans for all that money he hoped to win in a few days. Sometime after 2:00 AM, while they were talking about the constellations that they could see through the spotlights, number 5 Cotswold drew three warnings half a mile behind them over a ten-minute period and was shot. Butters squeezed Kenny’s hand, and they walked onward through this strange night.
Kenny thought that as long as this amazing person kept talking to him and walking alongside him, he could walk all the way to the Atlantic Ocean.