Chapter 12

Ten years later

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Silence!

The noises never stopped, storms never finished what they started, and voices lingered like beats of hearts, echoing endlessly. They kept echoing, banging, screaming. There was darkness followed by a red dusty veil, followed by tremors until something moved and stashed them out of the abyss. There was the light of a crimson Emblem and voices. Many voices.

A fleeting hand.

The voice of his mother.

“Open the goddamn door, you stupid muppet!“ An angry voice of a teenager crashed the banging.

William swore it didn't help, for the nightmare kept him awake even when sleeping or not. He winced, crawling underneath the cushion of his bed and light sheet. Confused and still hearing the thuds, he was uncertain what to do and hear.

He dreamed again. Once more re-living that day from ten years ago. It never left him. He imagined worse things from time to time. Places. However, that hand and his leaving mother always itched his heart. Dann, speaking and pleading, and that darkness and the blood. Oh, that crimson light.

Lazy arms moved and glided to the ground, followed by a brown-haired boy's head, and the rest of his body.

“I hate the mornings. Every bloody one of them” William complained, even when the room was dark and curtains were thick enough to halt the sun. Buzzing lingered like bees and he scrapped his face like hair before it all calmed down. Without that noise and bangs, it was a better life. It was no longer time to waste, and his whole body fell from the bed to the floor, stretching.

Getting to his feet was a challenge like changing his clothes. Opening the door, he looked at the sudden visitor. Such a morning hour was terrible, so he looked at the youth in a clear annoyance and spoke to him. “Might I give you a warning or a couple of slaps if you keep banging? Once or twice, remember.”

“Neither. What took you so long?” a youth with a crisp tone and unnaturally bright eyes said, sounding brave and friendly, but not visibly annoyed at William.

“Alright. Alright. You know how much I hate the mornings, so let's not pretend you have done some great merit. Nobody will believe you, Dann.”

“Huh? Who are you talking to? You are going to be a bloody Walker, William, yet you talk in such a loose fashion? That's terrible. How many times had I said to be more vibrant? This age needs some Walkers like that. Pillars!”

William rolled his eyes at Dann who cheered and pulled his arms up. He didn’t really like this about Dann, so he argued once more. “Who says that is good? Walkers are crazy bastards. Impressive too. People are people so don't speak as if there is some meaning in that. I am a people. You are too. Everyone is, but the position is different. Walkers have duties. People have duties. Everyone is people.”

Dann gave him a long suspicious look.

William didn't care. “Listen, what those soldiers and Walkers taught you isn't my problem. I have my head. You have yours, while you... well, you might not like them. Walkers, I mean.

“Do you want me to slap you like when we were young? Who am I, hm? I traveled with you to quite some corners and that almost cost me my bloody life? A priceless possession, dude! Don't joke around with that.” Dann offered his piece of mine with a complicated, yet friendly tone. William could not be more bothered with him, but this banter was one way to express their friendship.

They were young, not even adults, but who thought of age as important? The year was 2128 and the Dawn was more than a century old. That advent of the Dark Age was like poison and curse. Age and survival came together to latch onto those remaining people and many kept going. Babies and youths were important for the future, though what about the Walkers? Those were much more crucial than many though, and their growth and births were like shining gems in the dark storm.

“Give me a break, Dann,” William winced his hands when Dann grabbed his shoulders and tried to pursue him to change his voice. “It is not so easy to change, or think like that. Your head is just plain stupid, moron. Think about it sometimes.”

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Dann chuckled and moved inside, walking past him to see his dark room. “Sorry. Sorry. Sometimes, I don't know when to shut up.” He noticed hues of crimson in the bedsheets, so he hummed and frowned, but didn't tell it straight away.

William turned and walked back to his bed, where he sat, and wondered what Dann wanted.

“What do you mean, easy?” Dann demanded as he leaned beside the closed window. “Do you know how many people would take an opportunity to get a chance to be a hero like you? It is for the future. People are trying. More is always better.” He said resolutely, resembling a prudent and serious soldier with firm beliefs for a good cause. It wasn't performing that well from him, William knew.

Not only was Dann no soldier, but he wasn't the bravest. But he could talk well and act quite fast, so he always considered him to be a great help.

He would be a great nurse, or... supporting soldier? Is a moral supporter a thing? William thought without giving him a reply, knowing that Dann had no Emblem, so he couldn't be a Walker.

In return, he could take a different, or easygoing approach, becoming great at something more fit for normal people.

Walkers were monsters. That was what William believed. What else but monsters could fight other monsters? He was... that. Fated to fight for humanity.

Seeing Dann, his lifelong friend, he couldn't ignore his flashy nature and loud voice. He often teased him because he was a few years older, yet often not that dependable.

Sparks flew against those youths when their gazes met. Dann never liked to lose an argument, whereas William often took a compromise for granted and was the calmer one not because he preferred it.

“Have nothing to tell?” Dann said victoriously. “Should I slap you, eh?”

“Fine. A lot of people would want to be Walkers and it is a good dream. What is wrong or right with that? It isn't as if it is possible. Walkers are born. Not made just because one wants.”

Dann laughed. “No. Walkers are heart. We might be not them, but my heart is a Walker. I fight for them. Like one and two.”

“Oh,” William got up, stretched and cracked a fist. “Wanna try it.”

Dann coughed. “Well, what is this? I think breakfast returned. Give me a moment.” His steps aimed at the door, but William stopped him before he fled.

“I am one such Walker. Sure, but I still won't go there to get some tone or the life that I don't want to have. Walkers are numerous, but... it isn't pretty. Life isn't pretty. It could be normal though. Not miserable.”

William's answers were exactly like Dann expected. It was cautiously argumentative and offensive yet defensive. It was realistic, or straight-up naive. The world needed something better than that, Dann believed. He didn't like this about William, but who was he to stop him or change that about him? It wasn't working. William was like this because he grew up closer to misery and tough times. Dann was the same, as he followed him behind. Their ends were different. Time will change.

Dann wondered why, even though the answers were surprisingly easy. He charged at him, shouting vigorously until William kicked his feet, and pushed him to the bed with few motions.

Dann cried and stopped moving. “You don't hold back at all. As expected of me. A tiger has to push another tiger with full strength.”

“Yeah.” William scratched his head. “I will beat you real good one day.”

Dann laughed and shook the bedsheets vigorously. A flat piece of gem-like object fell from it, raising the crimson light to the dark room. The only light was coming from the open door that Dann forgot to close.

The unassuming gem-like object wouldn't be as noticeable if it weren't for the dark room. William's Emblem was calm, once more lost, and glinting like a shining jewel. It was away from Darks, that camp, that dreadful cave, and... William.

“Hah!” Dann shouted as if he fished a great catch. But he didn't dare to touch it; he knew he couldn't. It could burn.

William sighed and glanced at his right arm. It had an empty hole, looking like a deep wound that revealed bones, flesh, and strange little flowing lines in his depths. It wasn't feeling like anything at first, so that was why he hadn't noticed it since he woke up. It wasn't really that big of a deal anyway, even though it was terrific.

When looking and giving it some regard, it stunned William. It once again escaped his body. Not a good sign.

“You will lose it one day for real. Then, what will happen?” Dann asked.

“Means I would lose much more... or that it is not mine at all. It could go away, eh, fleeing like everyone's life? I would become a normal person. Ye. How about tossing it like this? Have we tried that one before?”

“...”

“No?”

Dann nodded. “Never again, dude. Anyhow...” He grimaced after hearing great poetic nonsense. William was reading way too much for his own good, so Dann made a strange face as he sat on the bed. “I will beat you up if you won't change this about yourself, or when you become a proper Walker. Now, you are young and clueless. Later that will change.”

“Again with this? You aren't a teacher, Dann.”

“And you are not a normal person, or my student.”

“Feels like one though.”

Dann gave him a long look.

“How many Darks have you killed, hm? How many people felt what they shouldn't?”

“Like a bullet or knife, it doesn't concern me. How about yourself?” William countered with a half-assed answer. Both of them had a fair share of Outside, seen death, and killings all over the place. Camps were just one part of this immense stretched land at the corners of former Canada.

Firearms and sharp weapons could kill some Darks, but only up to a certain Rank. At some point, conventional human weapons became meaningless. Only Walkers were left with their bizarre weaponry and powers out of fantasy.

William took his fallen Emblem for a bad sign and looked at it as if was a lost coin. It was still shining, calmly swirling in its internal glossy glow. Then he glanced at his right arm; there was a few inches wide opening, and up close, it was bloody and... well, it was gnarly. It seemed convincingly terrifying, and... wrong. It had to have its fill.