Three Orphan Pilgrimage (The Alternative to TWDG's Final Season) [Walking Dead]

86. Crime

Clementine's ears were ringing and her head was throbbing. As she found herself slowly stirring back to consciousness, she could taste blood in her mouth, and when she tried to rub her cheek she discovered her hands had been bound behind her back. Slowly she forced herself to stand up, only to feel something hard strike her from behind, knocking the breath out her lungs and sending her tumbling painfully into the dirt face first.

"Michelle, get over here already!" she heard a man yell.

"I heard you the first time Morgan," a more distant woman's voice yelled back. "One of us has to keep an eye on Cal, and it's never you."

"Because one of us has to protect the family," Clem heard him say as she wheezed for air, her back aching from the blow.

"Protect nothing, you were out watering the... what's that?"

"A thief. Saw her riding up on that bike there and so I took cover in the grass. Little crook was just about to take our corn when I stopped her."

"She's getting up," Clem heard the woman say as she slowly rolled onto her side.

"She ain't going anywhere with those cuffs on," asserted the man. "She ain't ever doing anything again without my say-so."

Clem opened her eyes to see two people staring down at her; a woman and a man. The woman appeared to be in her late twenties, had braided blonde hair, a leather vest, what looked like a long machete strapped to her hip, and an expression that would be vacant if not for the hint of a scowl on the corners of her lips. The man was older, had a shaggy beard, a filthy shirt with a police badge pinned to it, a nightstick in hand, and an odd grimace on his face that made Clem feel sick to her stomach. They both loomed over Clem for a minute, like vultures deciding on what part of a carcass they wanted to pick over first.

"What's this?" Michelle picked up Clem's tomahawk and examined it briefly before tossing it onto the grass. "She have any other weapons?"

"She had a knife on her belt, along with this." Clem watched as Morgan held out her own gun and casually aimed it in her direction. "Little thug was also wearing that raincoat, like post-apocalyptic gang colors or something. Can only imagine whose blood that is."

"It's just—" A swift strike to her side caused Clem to howl in pain as it suddenly felt like shards of glass were stirring inside her gunshot wound.

"Mom? Dad? What's that noise? Why are... who... who's that?" as an agonized Clem struggled for breath, she looked up and noticed a small blonde boy approaching the pair from behind. He was skinny, wearing a shirt that was a bit too big for him and, although she couldn't be certain, Clem doubted he was more than five years old. "It's a kid, and she's hurt."

"Cal, go back to the house," ordered Michelle.

"No, Cal, you stay right here," insisted Morgan as he motioned for the boy to come closer. "You need to see this."

"Oh, what's this?" Clem watched as Cal picked her hat off the ground; she hadn't even realized it was missing until now. He looked at it with a small sense of wonder for a moment and was about to put it on when his gaze was drawn downward to Clementine; it was the first pair of sympathetic eyes she had seen since waking up. "Is this yours?"

"It's—" Clem felt the sting of Morgan's nightstick across her cheek, causing the dull aching across her face to erupt into a horrible throbbing all at once that sent Clem into a hysterical fit. She pulled against the handcuffs in vain while trying to crawl away on her knees, only for a strong hand to drag her back by the collar of her shirt.

"Dad stop!" objected Cal. "You're hurting her!"

"Only because I have to son. She's dangerous."

"But she's just a kid, like me."