I sat quietly, watching the scenery slip by as the train rattled along the tracks. The metallic rhythm was almost calming, almost enough to distract me.
Until I heard it.
A faint growl.
Barely audible.
But with my hearing, I caught it instantly.
I turned and saw Clementine still curled up in the corner of the train car, hugging her knees. Her head was down, but her stomach… that's where the sound came from.
She was hungry.
It looked like the entire group had nothing to eat. And I did have food, three small cans in my pack.
But I didn't want to give any of it away. I needed it. I had no idea how long I'd stay with this group, or if I'd even survive with them.
So I ignored it.
Her stomach growled again—louder.
I ignored that too.
Then it came a third time, even louder, and she flinched in embarrassment.
Before I could stop myself, I opened my backpack and walked toward her.
She lifted her head when she heard my footsteps, eyes wide and nervous.
"Here," I said, holding out two cans. "Eat something. You sound hungry."
She blinked at the cans, then at me.
"D-Don't you need it?" she asked softly.
"No. I'm fine. I'm not hungry," I said. Not a complete lie. "You need it more. So take it."
Her hand trembled as she reached out.
"Thank you…" she murmured. "You're very kind. But one can is enough. You can take the other back."
I looked at her; she was clearly hungry, and those two small cans wouldn't even make a proper meal. Why was she even trying to give it back?
"No. I don't need it. I have more. Just eat," I said, turning away.
"No—you're lying," she blurted. "I saw inside your backpack. You only have one can left. Please… take it."
I froze.
Right. Forgot to close the damn bag.
The flap hung wide open—anyone could see the single can inside.
Awkward.
Still… I didn't need much. I could hunt easily. But giving away food in this world felt wrong. Dangerous. Stupid. You never knew what tomorrow would bring.
I looked at her again—tiny, shaking, starving. Too pitiful to ignore.
I wanted to be cold. Heartless. The kind of person who survives. But old habits die hard.
"Just take the goddamn thing," I muttered, more irritated at myself than her.
I turned away before she could thank me. From the corner of my eye, I saw her quietly open both cans.
A small smile tugged at my lips.
Then, to my surprise, she stood up and walked toward me, holding both cans.
She was smiling, still timid but trying to be brave.
"H-how about we each eat one can?" she suggested softly. "That way you won't be hungry… and I won't feel bad eating both."
I stared at her. Stubborn little thing.
Not wanting to argue, I took one can from her hand.
We sat side by side in silence, eating.
After a moment, she spoke again, her voice small.
"I'm sorry for throwing water in your face."
"It's fine," I said casually.
"And… I'm sorry for being an inconsiderate jerk. I didn't mean to remind you of your mother. I'm really sorry." Her face crumpled with guilt, her eyes glimmering with tears, as if she hated herself for even bringing up the topic again.
I looked at her sad expression, confused as to why she was so upset. She hadn't done anything wrong.
"It's fine. Stop apologizing and eat," I said.
Her shoulders drooped as she quietly resumed eating.
A few minutes passed before she spoke again, hesitating:
"Can… can I ask something? If you don't mind," she said, looking at me.
I nodded and kept eating.
"Why are you bald?"
I paused mid-bite. What kind of question was that?
I ignored it.
She leaned closer. "Did you shave it off with your sword?"
Her questions were getting dumber by the second.
"No," I sighed. " lost my hair from cancer. Normally, it grows back after a few months without chemotherapy, but if you have chemo long enough, your hair can be permanently damaged."
I returned to eating.
"I'm… I'm sorry," she whispered. Her eyes softened with genuine pity. "When my mom cuts my hair too short, I complain a lot… but hearing what you went through…" Her voice grew fragile. "It must've been really hard for you."
Her gaze was almost painful this time. I was already getting irritated by how many times she'd apologized.
"After a while, you get used to it," I said. "Now eat."
I focused on my food, eating faster. Maybe then she'd stop.
Of course, she didn't.
"Why are you alone? Where is your family?"
Her sincerity told me she wouldn't let it go.
"I got separated from my family," I said. "They were heading to Savannah. So I'm going there."
Her eyes lit up instantly. She smiled so wide it almost startled me—her whole face glowing with excitement. It was the first time I'd seen her truly happy.
"You too? I'm going to Savannah to look for my parents! We can help each other! We can look together! for our family"
I didn't have the heart to tell her; her parents were dead. But with all the changes happening, I wasn't even completely sure anymore.
So I just nodded.
That was all she needed to explode with energy.
She launched into a rapid-fire barrage of questions, her expression bright and animated, as if she'd finally found someone her age to talk to. She asked where I used to live, how I'd lost my group, and what my life used to be like. What school did I go to?
I ignored most of the questions.
She didn't stop. If anything, she got even more curious.
Eventually, I snapped.
"Kid, can you shut up for a second?" I groaned, rubbing my temples.
She puffed out her cheeks and glared at me. The transformation was instant—seconds ago, she was timid. Now she looked like an offended housecat.
"Sorry, but I'm not a kid!" she snapped. "You look the same age as me!"
"I'm fourteen," I said. "About to be fifteen in a few days."
Her eyes widened, then she giggled.
"Oh? Well, I'm already fifteen. I turned fifteen two days ago. So you're younger. That makes you the kid."
She giggled again, proud of herself.
I blinked. I genuinely thought she was younger.
"Well, even if you're older by a couple of days, you're acting like a baby," I muttered.
"Baby? Nobody calls me a baby!" She crossed her arms, glaring. "My parents say I'm mature for my age! I even got A's in all my classes! You're the dumb baby." She argued, glaring.
"If you're smart, why are your questions so dumb they're making me dumber?"
We glared at each other. Her face twisted in irritation.
Then embarrassment flushed across her cheeks. She grabbed her can and hurried to the other side of the car, sitting with her back half-turned as she ate tiny, angry bites. She kept sneaking, embarrassed glances at me between mouthfuls.
I leaned back against the wall and exhaled.
…What the hell was that?
One moment, I was avoiding conversation, and the next, we were arguing about who the kid was and who the baby was. Middle-school cafeteria nonsense. Just because my body was fourteen didn't mean I had to act like it. Mentally, I was seventeen, not some brat arguing over nothing.
And Clementine—how did she go from Scared little girl to arguing with me like we were old friends? Why did she switch so fast? And now she was sneaking shy glances at me again.
Why were girls impossible to understand?
Honestly, I wasn't sure who confused me more, her… or myself.
Before I could think further, the train car door slammed open.
Lee stepped inside, holding a gun.
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Good news, everyone! I've decided to upload a chapter on Saturday and Sunday as well, but I will take a break on Wednesday.