The Long Walk
CHAPTER SIX: MILES 272 – 360
written by fallingwthstyle - illustrated by mio and Maud WBy the morning of their fourth day, Kenny’s body barely felt like it belonged to him anymore; his legs felt like they were moving under him of their own volition, and his feet felt like two blocks of wood. They’d gone beyond pain into a realm of numbness that was somehow worse. He and Butters had gotten their daily meal rations a few minutes ago and were listlessly sorting through them. Even though he didn’t feel even slightly hungry, Kenny squirted a thick gob of the meatloaf paste on his finger and sucked it into his mouth. He kept eating, and before he knew it he had eaten the entire contents of the tube, where it sat in his stomach like a ball of lead.
He dropped the empty tube on the highway and took a sip of water. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, swallowing forcefully a few times, trying not to throw up. Butters gave him a sympathetic look.
“Would you like a Tums?” he asked, and Kenny laughed.
“Jesus dude...no thanks. Is there anything you don’t have in that backpack?”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t bring a new pair of feet, Kenny. That’s what I’m going to need to keep going much longer, I think.”
Stan and Kyle made their way over to them a few minutes later. “How are you guys holding up?” Kyle asked. His once vibrant red hair was dull, like ancient straw, and his cheekbones jutted out prominently. Stan sneezed beside him and let go of Kyle’s hand to blow his nose into a dirty tee shirt.
“I’ve been better,” Kenny answered honestly. “I’ve gotten to the point where I’m asking myself what the hell I was thinking.”
Kyle nodded his understanding and Stan sneezed again. The day somehow passed. There was little talking after that, as just continuing to walk seemed to take all their strength and focus. Kenny didn’t think he’d be able to follow along with even a simple conversation anyway. By the afternoon, he found himself struggling to stay awake; little bits and pieces of dreams began superimposing themselves over the nightmarish reality of having to keep walking. Night fell, and the garish spotlights from behind them once again lit the night, throwing long shadows on the highway ahead and making everything seem even more unreal.
The line separating dreams and reality blurred together; at one point Kenny knew he was sleepwalking, yet his eyes were open so he could continue walking a straight line. Absolutely nothing felt real to him...which was why when several gunshots rang out simultaneously after no warnings had been given, Kenny wasn’t sure for a moment if it was real or a nightmare.
“Come on you guys!” someone screamed and Kenny jolted fully awake. He realized it was Cartman, who had somehow grabbed a soldier’s rifle and fired it into one of the jeeps. He pulled open the driver’s door and dragged a body out from behind the steering wheel.
“Oh holy shit!” Kyle shouted. “He’s fucking gone crazy.”
A soldier standing behind another jeep took careful aim at Cartman and fired his rifle. Cartman’s left leg collapsed under him and he fell. Several spotlights swung around to shine on him.
“What?” Butters screamed beside him, looking around frantically. “What’s happening, Kenny?”
Kenny watched four soldiers swarm onto Cartman, pinning his arms and legs to the ground while a fifth stood over him aiming a rifle at his right knee. By the time Kenny realized what was happening, it was too late to look away. The rifle roared with a sound Kenny was sure he could see as well as hear. The screams that followed immediately afterward were inhuman.
“Jesus Christ!” Stan cried, turning away from the sight with both hands pressed hard over his mouth. Butters had his hands mashed against his ears trying to block out the screams even as his head was turned to watch.
“I knew there was something wrong with him,” Kyle said loudly. “Oh my God, I knew it.”
“Yeah, he was fucking crazy,” Tucker said, removing his earbuds to talk to them. “He actually thought we were all going to attack the soldiers just because he asked us to, without having any kind of real plan or anything.”
Kenny reached for Butters’ hand and pulled him closer. “Don’t look at that, man.” Butters nodded and turned around again, and they continued walking toward their own elongated shadows. The screams were terrible enough, but even worse were the cries of “you guys?” that soon followed. They were the sound of someone who had lost everything, crying out into an empty void.
It took twenty minutes to walk far enough to not be able to hear the screams anymore.
By dawn of the next morning, Kenny realized this would be their last sunrise. None of them would be able to walk long enough to see another one; the only question was who would be the last one standing when this was finally over.
Kenny looked around at the dwindling group of walkers. Besides himself and Butters, the only ones left now were Stan and Kyle, Tucker, and a blond boy Kenny had never spoken to and hadn’t really paid the slightest attention to the entire time, walking on the opposite side of the highway.
He turned to look at Butters, who almost looked like he was sleepwalking. Practically overnight his face had become a death mask; his skin was stretched tight and his once beautiful blue eyes were faded and dull. They were half open now, blank, while he walked blindly ahead. Faint white fuzz covered his chin and cheeks.
Kenny turned at a movement behind him, and Butters woke up as well. The blond Kenny had spotted a moment ago (15 – Tweak) had drifted closer to them. His eyes were a brilliant emerald green, now sunken deep in their sockets from starvation; Kenny felt Butters’ hand reach for his as Tweak’s eyes settled somewhere between them. Tweak’s lips were twitching, and Kenny realized he was trying to say something, and he leaned in closer to listen.
“Oh my God,” Tweak moaned, suddenly more than loud enough to hear; his eyes seemed to be pleading with them for something, understanding perhaps. “I’m in hell.”
“We all are, buddy,” Butters told him, and Tweak shook his head vigorously in negation.
“Nuh—no!” He shook his head vigorously, speaking in a whisper that was somehow both quiet and shrill. “I don’t care if I die...” He waved his hands around his face as if trying to ward off a swarm of mosquitoes. “I...I’m ready to just sit down and quit! Buh...but I don’t think I’ll be able to sit there for ninety whole seconds.” His voice dropped even lower, as if he was afraid someone else would overhear. “I’m afraid I might get up and try to run away. Then they’ll shoot me in the knees like they did to number four.”
Kenny nodded, lost for words. This kid was in bad shape, but Kenny didn’t believe there was anything he could do for him.
Tweak continued, in that same shrill whisper: “I’ve been listening to you guys, all this time. I’m sorry!” His entire body was wracked with a violent shudder. “I didn’t want to eavesdrop...but I couldn’t help it. And...I wish I could have made a friend here so I could have had someone to walk with too. And now it’s too late.”
“You can walk with us now if you want,” Butters told him, and Kenny squeezed his hand.
Tweak looked like he was about to start crying. “I—I can’t walk anymore!” He sounded both hyper and exhausted. “No one’s going to miss me if I lose...but at least I made a difference to somebody...I’m the only walker who didn’t get a single warning the whole time!” There was pride, very faint but there, behind the deathly fatigue in his voice. “Someone must have bet on that and made a lot of money because of me, right?”
“You didn’t get one warning the entire walk?” Kenny asked incredulously. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t think that was something people could bet on. “That’s pretty amazing, dude.”
“We get our meal rations in about ten minutes,” Tweak continued, as if Kenny hadn’t said anything. “Once I get mine, I’m just going to sit down and take my three warnings and quit.” His hand reached out, claw-like, and latched onto Kenny’s arm while his eyes searched Kenny’s desperately. “I’ll give you my rations if you’ll sit with me for my last thirty seconds.”
-MaudW-
“Oh, dude...” Kenny said, horrified at the idea. He’d considered the possibility of having to do this for Butters in the coming hours; if it finally came to that he planned to sit down with him. The idea of taking even one warning for a total stranger seemed too much. But he felt his hand being squeezed and turned to look at Butters who was giving him a hopeless look. You can’t say no to that, it seemed to be trying to convey. Kenny nodded and turned back to look at Tweek.
“Okay,” Kenny told him, and Tweak’s eyes flooded with relief as he realized Kenny was going to help him. “Get your food ration and go on ahead of us a ways and then sit down. I’ll sit next to you right before you get your third warning, all right?”
Tweak nodded gratefully. “Okay, man. Thank you.”
“Make sure you get far enough ahead of us,” Kenny emphasized. “I’m only going to take one warning for you, okay?”
Tweak looked down toward his boots; one of the heels was coming loose, flopping against the blacktop with each step. “All right,” he said humbly. “I’m going to get started.” And with that he sped up, quickly leaving Kenny and Butters behind. Kenny thought there was relief in the way he was walking, as if his legs could tell they would be able to rest soon, and marveled at what they had all been reduced to.