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

95. Fall

Clementine felt her grip slipping as she clung to the cliff in desperation. She knew she shouldn't have tried this but had done it anyway. Looking up, she saw a rock sticking out of the wall above her. If she could just get a grip on it she might be able to scramble her way to top before her arms give out. Clem took a deep breath and shot her arm out at the rock jutting out of the cliff. A sense of relief washed over her as she felt her fingers connect with the rock, then her stomach dropped along with the rest of her as her hand slipped off.

The safety rope slowed Clem's fall and the padded mats made a soft landing even softer. She had come to enjoy her morning visits to the climbing wall. The tall ceiling made this room feel less claustrophobic than the rest of the bunker and climbing gave Clem a fun physical activity that didn't require her to go outside. She also enjoyed challenging herself by trying progressively harder routes to the top each morning, even if they were strenuous for someone as short as her.

Clem was tempted to try again, but then she felt a dull ache in her side. It was very minor, but it was right where her gunshot wound used to be; she knew she shouldn't have pushed herself so hard. Clem took off the harness, picked up her lantern and headed for the stairs. She walked up a couple of floors before arriving at the shooting range. It was little more than a row of booths littered with shell casings over-looking a long and empty concrete corridor whose back wall was riddled with bullet holes.

Clem didn't like this room and usually she didn't have any reason to come here. But after setting her lantern down she moved over to the machine gun she dropped off here on her way down to the rock climbing wall. Even after familiarizing herself with every single piece of it, Clem realized last night she'd never actually fired this gun before. After doing a count of their remaining bullets, she reasoned it was prudent to practice while they had enough ammo to even try.

She pulled a sheet of paper out of her backpack along with a roll of tape, then walked down to the end of the range. Peeling some tape off of the roll, Clem's eyes fell on the scraps of paper left on the floor by the previous owners. They were pictures of faces, likely pages torn from magazines or books, and Clem found it unnerving how each and every one had at least a dozen bullet holes neatly drilled into their foreheads.

Clem taped up her own target, a big circle with a dot drawn in the middle, then hurried back to the other side of the range. Picking up the machine gun, Clem took a breath as she acclimated to its weight. Although it wasn't particularly heavy, it was wholly different from the pistols she had grown accustomed to. Clem grabbed a pair of earmuffs from the table behind her, then stepped up to the counter. She switched the gun's safety off, braced the stock against her shoulder, then lined up the sights.

Even after drawing her target as big as she could it wasn't much larger than a tiny dot from this distance. It was difficult to line up the sights on something so small, but Clem took her time and waited between breaths before squeezing the trigger. There was a single sharp kick accompanied by a deafening shot that made Clem's ears ring even through the earmuffs. She couldn't see if she had hit her target but prepared to fire again, reasoning she couldn't stop to check her accuracy in an actual gunfight.

After five shots, Clem figured it was time to practice what she'd actually come here to practice. She located the gun's safety and switched it to 'AUTO'. Clem took another breath then lined up her sights again. Several shots fired almost instantly, prompting Clem to immediately release the trigger. Even having only tapped the trigger for less than a second she had to stop and rub her shoulder.

Clem braced herself and gave the trigger another short pull and felt a few more shots fly out of the gun. She had been ready for it this time and so a short burst wasn't too difficult for her control. Taking a deep breath, Clem reasoned she might need more than just a burst of gunfire someday. She steeled herself and held the trigger down. The gun fiercely resisted her but she kept her hands on it, wrestling with it like it was a live snake trying to arch its head around to spray its lead venom at her.