The Long Walk
CHAPTER FOUR: MILES 91 – 183
written by fallingwthstyle - illustrated by mio and Maud W
-MaudW-
“You ready to do this?” Butters asked, looking excited as he walked alongside Kenny, almost as if they were about to play a game, which in a sense they were. It was 9:20 Tuesday morning; the soldiers had distributed food rations and canteens of water to each of the thirteen surviving walkers twenty minutes ago. They’d both eaten a bologna sandwich and stowed the rest of their rations into their backpacks.
“Uh huh,” Kenny replied, not at all sure that he actually was. He was predicting they were about to get two warnings rather than the one Butters was expecting.
“It’s all in the preparation,” Butters said. To Kenny’s surprise, Butters handed him a small shiny packet that he recognized as a pre-moistened alcohol towelette. He must have sensed Kenny was about to protest because he quickly added, “I’ve got plenty of those, Kenny. I might want one to wipe my face with in the afternoon or something, too.” He started tearing off the end of his own packet. “You gotta do as much as you can while you’re still walking, before you get any warnings.” Kenny copied Butters’ movements, tearing open the end of his towelette package. The sharp smell of alcohol stung his nostrils.
Butters reached into his backpack and pulled out two pairs of thick, cushy-looking white socks and handed Kenny one of them. “Oh, dude, no, come on...” Kenny finally protested.
“Ken...just let me do this, okay?” He looked down at the road sadly for a moment. “It’s the only day I’ll be able to...and I’m not going to need eight pairs of socks. No Long Walk has ever gone that many days.”
Kenny nodded, knowing he was right. He was just over 25 hours away from his planned death. He doubted they’d be changing their socks together again this time tomorrow.
“Good!” Butters said, seeing that Kenny was going along with him. “Now...reach down and untie your boot and—“ he began demonstrating by carrying out his own directions, reaching down without breaking stride to untie his right boot. “—loosen the laces.” He repeated the maneuver with his left boot; the plastic tips of the laces clicked as they dragged along the highway while he walked.
“If you two lovebirds keep helping each other like that,” Tucker said from six feet behind them, having approached them without either of them noticing. “The rest of us are going to start getting really pissed off.”
“Oh, fuck off, Tucker,” Kyle said. He and Stan were watching what Butters was doing intently. “They haven’t broken any of the rules, and at least some of us still have some humanity left. They aren’t hurting anyone.”
“You think so, huh?” Tucker replied mockingly. “If Cramer hadn’t helped that Stotch kid after he fainted yesterday, we might all be walking against eleven people right now, instead of twelve. You guys are blind and deluded. Maybe it’s no big deal right now...but we’ve barely been walking a day so far. What about after we’ve been walking for three days? Or what about four? If any of you sad fucks are still walking four days from now, you’ll be praying for everyone else to give out. You know I’m right.”
Kenny looked away, toward the sunlit pavement passing relentlessly under his boots. What an asshole, he thought, even as he realized what he was saying was true. He felt Butters deliberately bump his right shoulder when he took his next step, and then again with his next. Kenny bumped him back and they smiled at each other. Butters’ smile didn’t reach to his eyes.
“So what?” Stan said angrily. “So...maybe this contest is going to turn us into a bunch of bloodthirsty savages in a couple days, just trying to stay alive. But before we go all Lord of the Flies on each other, why don’t you let us enjoy our humanity a little while longer?”
Tucker smirked and began edging away from them, toward the center of the highway. “It’s going to be fun, walking you guys down one by one. I don’t really want to see you get shot, but...it is what it is.” He lifted his earbuds up from his neck, settling them into his ears again. “Have a great day.” He began walking faster, dismissing them.
“Jesus...what a dick,” Kenny said, glancing toward Butters who was watching the road intently. His face was unreadable.
“He’s just trying to psyche us out,” Kyle said.
“He’s right, you know,” Kenny said to Butters. “He’s just trying to fuck with our heads, so screw him. Now...where were we?”
“Just do everything I do, like we went over,” Butters replied. Some of the enthusiasm had left his voice after that exchange with Tucker. He’d gotten the laces of both his boots loosened and Kenny reached down, never missing a step, to do the same to his own boots. It was now or never. They exchanged a look and sat down on the highway together.
“Warning! First warning, numbers six and twelve!” Butters flung both his boots off and peeled off his dirty socks, Kenny copying his every move a second later. They wiped their feet with alcohol towelettes (“make sure you get between your toes, Kenny”), threw them aside as well, pulled on clean socks, got their boots on and retied and leaned back to rest for a moment. Butters was staring at his watch and as he began counting down “five...four...” he and Kenny leaped to their feet together and began walking again.
“Dude!” Kenny said happily. “That was awesome! My feet feel great.”
“And we got to rest for a few seconds,” Butters replied. “I feel a lot better now.”
“That was very disciplined,” Cartman said, apparently having been observing them from a few feet away. He had appeared as if out of nowhere.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” Kenny asked, reaching for Butters’ hand.
“That doesn’t matter,” Cartman replied, dismissing the question and nodding toward the jeeps following them in the breakdown lanes. “Just be ready. We’re going to swarm these sons of bitches when they don’t expect it and take over.”
“Woah, dude,” Kenny said; Butters was watching Cartman nervously from behind Kenny. “No, we’re not. What are you talking about?”
“Just be ready,” Cartman repeated, moving away from them to go over and talk to Tucker, who reluctantly removed his earbuds for a few seconds, then shook his head and brushed Cartman aside.
“What was that all about?” Stan asked.
“I think he’s losing it,” Kenny replied, repeating what Cartman had just said. Stan grimaced as he listened.
“I thought there was something wrong with that guy the first time he talked to me,” Kyle said once Kenny had finished.
“I’m just going to do my best to stay away from him,” Kenny said and Butters nodded, apparently agreeing with this plan.
The walk continued; by now, the faster walkers were over a mile ahead, almost out of sight. On three separate occasions during the afternoon, they heard the sound of gunshots from far ahead and could see a body being dragged from the road soon after. Unlike yesterday’s unexpected rain, today was hot and most of the boys ended up walking shirtless by late afternoon. Kenny and Butters walked together, their hands unabashedly roaming over each other’s backs as they went.
Around 5:00, Butters squeezed Kenny’s hand once and then let go to reach into his backpack for something. “Um, Ken? I need to drop back for a minute...and probably take a warning.”
Kenny looked at him curiously. “You okay, dude?”
“Yeah.” He looked away bashfully and pulled a roll of toilet paper from his pack. “Just gotta...”
“Say no more,” Kenny interrupted. “Good luck. Hey, do you want me to hold your backpack while you...?”
Butters still looked uncomfortable. “You don’t have to do that...”
“I know.” Kenny was watching him patiently. Butters finally nodded and slid his pack off and handed it to Kenny, keeping just the toilet paper.
“Thanks, Ken.”
“It’s what friends are for, Butters, remember? Don’t worry, I’m not gonna look.” Butters nodded and began slowly dropping back. A few seconds later there were some raucous catcalls from the crowd and the now familiar amplified voice called out:
“Warning! First warning, number twelve!”
“Oh no!” Cartman said gleefully. “Where’s your mom to wipe your butt for you?”
“Dude, shut the fuck up!” Kenny shouted angrily. “What are you, ten?”
“You know,” Tucker said from a few feet ahead. “You just guaranteed that every one of us are going to yell shit at you when you stop to take a crap.” Kenny was oddly grateful for the unexpected support.
“You just be ready when I tell you,” Cartman replied, nonplussed by their responses to him.
“Uh huh,” Stan replied sarcastically. “We will.”
Butters caught up with Kenny a minute later, and Kenny wordlessly handed him his backpack. His face was pink; Kenny wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or exertion. Butters took out a towelette and began wiping his hands with it. Kenny grinned and shook his head, and the walk continued.
By nightfall, the lack of sleep was beginning to wear on them all. Instead of having an animated conversation with Butters like last night, Kenny found himself walking alongside him mostly in silence while he struggled to stay awake and keep walking. Even the sound of gunshots removing someone from the walk sometime after midnight barely disturbed him. Scattered bits of dreams kept trying to invade the hellish reality of trying to walk so he wouldn’t die yet, and he found himself looking forward to carrying out his planned death just so he can rest for a while.
His head kept bobbing as he drifted off to sleep and woke up again, his feet seeming to move on their own now, disconnected from him. He found himself in a feverish dream, walking with Butters along the edge of a beach, warm water lapping at their ankles, a beautiful sunset lighting the sky and everything around them in brilliant red and orange. It was the most vivid dream he had ever had. They were in no particular hurry, often stopping together to inspect interesting seashells and pieces of driftwood they came across as they strolled along the shore.
“I can’t die, you know,” Kenny said casually, knowing Butters will believe every word he says, as long as they remain on this beach together. “I mean...I die, but I just wake up a couple days later in my own bed; my parents are the only ones who remember. Well, and you, now that I told you...”
“I already knew that, Ken.”
Kenny nodded. “When I did the Long Walk last year? My dad placed a bet on me that I’d get shot after eighteen and a half hours, but we timed it so he only won $200,000. But all he had to do last year was find an old friend to place the bet for him and split the winnings. He didn’t trust anyone enough this year with a billion dollar bet though...so he got me a real good fake ID with its own government serial number and everything, so he could claim the money himself without looking like he had his own son take a dive. He’s going to be waiting at the government offices and get his money an hour afterward too, before the world does that thing where it forgets all about me dying again.”
Butters nodded, believing every word. He had been examining an interesting looking shell and let it fall back to the sand. “You have to wake up now.”
What he’d said made no sense, and Kenny felt something tug painfully on his arm. The sky went completely dark in two seconds. “What?”
“You have to wake up!,” Butters repeated, and whatever was pulling on his arm pulled even harder and dragged him completely onto the beach and away from water that he knew was suddenly deeper and colder than he’d ever imagined water could be—
“Kenny, GodDAMNIT!” Butters screamed and yanked on his arm again hard enough to hurt, and this time Kenny awoke and saw it was almost sunrise and he was seconds away from walking off the edge of the road into the crowd and there was a soldier six feet away aiming a rifle at his right knee—
“Oh FUCK!” he screamed and nearly stumbled, only Butters was there gripping his bicep, holding him upright and pulling him back toward the center of the highway. Everything was happening too fast, that wonderful dream was unraveling, and Kenny tripped again and nearly fell before getting his bearings and starting to walk again. Butters was staring at him anxiously.
“Ken?” Butters said. “You were asleep and starting to walk off the road. I, ah...I’m sorry I had to wake you up.”
Kenny was awake enough now to realize that Butters had just saved his life (and from a long, agonizing death) and they were walking together toward another sunrise. Kenny shook his head trying to clear it, but nothing could drive away the thick fog that had taken over his thoughts. All he could remember of that dream he’d been having was that he’d been walking on a beach and he hadn’t been feeling the bone weary tiredness he felt now. Now he was walking down the highway like he had been for the last two days, and only that was real.
“You okay?” Butters asked. “The soldiers are going to start handing out food soon, and after we eat something I’m going to stop and change my socks. Are you awake now?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again,” he replied, and the sad, ironic truth of that statement made him shake his head when he realized he was now only a couple hours away from staging his own death.