I
"What?" Roland asked. It was as if her mouth moved, but his brain registered nothing. Butter-coated words that slipped away.
"The Stronghold has fallen. It's done," Beatrix said. No hint of a smile, no hint of a terrible joke on her face. She was serious.
"Is Dad —"
"Our dads are fine. I followed them, and we made our way to the gates, where we finished up the remaining mutants. Richard told me to catch up with you as soon as I could. Dad agreed. They're worried that there might be more mutants lurking here in the forest."
"What about Diana?"
"Her mom took her away, apparently. She was fine last I saw. Worried about you. She gave me a message for you: 'don't you dare die, or I'll go to Hell and kill you again and again,' something like that."
They sat on the ruins of what was once a house. The tallest concrete wall was two feet tall. Part of the wall crumbled when Roland tried to sit on it, so he moved to a sturdier segment. Plants grew over it, and time had washed the colors away. Roland looked at the sky through the canopy and tapped a tile with his left foot, tossing a piece of ruin from hand to hand.
"How many died?"
"I don't know," Beatrix said. She shook her head and looked at the smoke rising, now behind them. Her gaze was steady and her body still. "Many."
Roland stood up and tossed the stone. "Damn it! Why did Dad send me away? I could've helped them!"
"Not really. You got a job protecting the sword, for whatever reason," Beatrix said. She pulled her bowstring and checked the knots. "But we don't have time to sit down and cry. Cid is meeting us at the Capital. The rest of the survivors are going there eventually, and they want us to help secure the route." She started to walk north. "Come on."
"Wait a minute. How did you find me?" Could she be in league with the strange kid? But then, Cid recognized her.
She stopped and frowned at him. "Cid told me where he dropped you off when he returned, and I tracked you."
"Tracked me? How?"
"You're not as good as you believe. Now get moving," she said and turned.
Whatever retort he wanted to say never materialized in his head, and he sighed, following the strange girl through the forest.
Not good enough. No. He would learn, then. Grow. He had to protect his father's sword, and ace the test, become the Scavenger he so dreamed of being.
II
Roland and Beatrix trekked through the forest in silence. He followed her quick steps, suppressing the pain in his ankle. With each step the pain took revenge for being ignored, growing slightly. They came across a group of rocks covered by moss and purple flowers, which Beatrix nimbly climbed. Roland imitated her as best as he could, one limb at a time. They passed an ancient tree that whispered prophecies with the wind, prophecies that Beatrix ignored. She pushed Roland around, pulled him, and glared in silence. Time and time again, Roland wished she would slow down. Interesting ruins or cute flowers that blossomed in strange patterns caught his attention, and he wanted to look at them, to remember them for later sketches, but Beatrix pushed on. That was all he could manage to keep his mind away from what happened, but Beatrix pushed on, and on, and on. It made his mind wander back. Fire. People screaming. Monsters.
By sundown, Roland's legs were wobbly, and his arms limped beside him. Beatrix stopped and shoved her hand in Roland's face, then ducked and pushed a bush aside.
"It's clear, come on," she said.
The metallic skeletons of cars spread around a small, shaded nest of tall grass, orchids, and violets. The work of Scavengers. Roland stopped in front of a car that used to be silver. Only the frame and two seats remained, plus half the steering wheel. Flowers bloomed under the seats, and vines creeped from the air conditioner vents. Roland sat in the passenger's seat and ran his hand across the dash. The compartment was open, and disappointingly empty. He stepped out.
"A parking lot," Roland murmured. A tap of his boot revealed asphalt that crumbled under the pressure of growing grass.
"We're camping here," Beatrix said. "One of us will sleep inside that van, and the other will watch on top." She pointed with her thumb at a white van resting behind her. Most of its body stood the test of time, but the wheels and windows were gone.
"Yeah, sure."
"Can you get some wood ready?"
"Yeah," Roland said. He dropped his backpack and walked to the nearest grove. What was her problem? It's not as if he forced her to come. Ever since their first meeting, Beatrix had made him feel like he should apologize for anything and everything. Those eyes held a strange power over him. Fierce and so mysterious. Pools of neon.
A small fire already shone when he got back with some wood. Beatrix worked with a group of tubes from her pack. They were silver and small, with joints. She set them down in order and placed little screws beside the holes. Roland watched her carefully build a small spit roast and put a cleaned chicken on it.
"You had that?"
"Caught it earlier. Sit," she said and poured water into two small cups. She tossed small leaves in the water and set them over the fire.
"Uh, I don't like tea," Roland said.
"Black alcohol leaves, they will help with the pain."
"Oh, so those are the leaves. I had only read about them. Are you a Scavenger? You seem to know a lot of stuff."
"I trained to be a hunter, or something like that," she replied. She turned the chicken slowly and stared at the flames. Firelight danced over dark concrete and the grass that fought it for terrain, creating shadows dancing over the van.
"I see. Similar training, kind of."
"Mhmm. Drink." Beatrix passed Roland the cup.
Roland blew off the steam and sniffed it. The smell of black alcohol overpowered his senses, and he sneezed. "Thanks," he said and drank it in one long draft. "Ow!" He dropped the cup. "Hot!"
Beatrix tossed him a water canteen as she watched the chicken. For a moment, it looked like her glare was doing the cooking.
"Thanks, again. So, umm" — Roland looked at the sky and sipped water — "how's the Abode? I've never been there."
"Okay, I guess."
"I see. Who's your mom?"
"I don't know."
"Sorry, I mean, if it bothers you."
"Not really. Never met her." She stretched and picked up a stick from the forest floor, turning it around in her hands. "Haven't felt the need to ask dad."
"Wish it were that easy," Roland whispered.
"What?"
"Nothing," Roland said. He shifted around and stared at the first stars. No words came to mind. He just sat and waited for Beatrix to finish the chicken, pushing himself not to think about the Stronghold. The strong smell tickled his stomach. She knew her way around spices, but Roland couldn't identify which ones she'd used. I don't get this. It's not this hard to talk with Diana. Silence. Owls hooted, insects chirped. The wind howled with the crackling of the fire. A pleasant aroma of smoke and meat filled the breeze.
"It's done," Beatrix said after two sets of clouds came and went. She broke the chicken and tossed half to Roland. "Enjoy."
Mild chicken and water served as their first dinner together. It lacked salt, and whatever spices she used couldn't make up for it. Roland tried to think about Beatrix, but his mind was on the edge of breakdown now. The fire. It cast the same shadows as it did in the hallways. A hooded figure lurking by the door.
"It was the redheaded kid," Beatrix said. "He let the monsters in."
"What? Tod? That's ridiculous."
"Several survivors pointed him out. Apparently, he let the monsters in through the gates."
"But Tod is an idiot! He's the kind of guy who runs to his mom and cries for her to stop a bully. I mean, just some few days ago, we encountered a monster and all he did was cry for help. He used his sister as bait, even," Roland said. "I'm so going to kick his ass next time I see him."
"Just wanted to let you know. Take the first watch. Wake me up in five hours," Beatrix said.
"Sure." He watched her pick up her backpack — small and brown — stomp the fire out, and climb inside the van.
Roland jumped on the van and sat on top, looking at the starlit sky. Sleep did not come easy in the loneliness of a car graveyard within an empty forest. He saw hellfire enveloping his house and monsters eating everyone inside. And all of it was Tod's fault. That sleazy, good-for-nothing idiot who didn't have an ounce of courage. Diana often said how he was still afraid of the dark at night and begged Clementine to convince Richard to let the power on late at night. Was it even possible? Beatrix could be confused. But no, something told Roland she was right. Perhaps Tod's guilt when Diana confronted him with her bluff, or the fact that he was sneaking around before the attack. Was he smart enough to plan? He was good at it when it came to teasing and playing pranks.
"Stranger things have happened, I guess," Roland murmured. A shooting star slashed the skies above just as it sliced his thoughts. He closed his eyes and wished. "I want to be a Scavenger — no, a hero like Dad. I want to help people the way Dad did. To save them from monsters and people like Tod. That's all I want . . ."
Roland drifted to sleep.
III
Roland was pulled out of dreamless darkness by a tugging hand. Beatrix glared at him, harsh sunlight making a halo over her head.
"Morning," Roland said. He rubbed his eyes and stretched.
"Morning my ass. You were supposed to wake me up in five hours. It looks like it's past nine! I thought you were trained to be a Scavenger?"
"Sorry! I was so tired that I must've drifted off," Roland said. He stood up and jumped off the van. "Let's get going, then."
"No, listen. If we are traveling together, we need some rules. First rule: watch duty is sacred. Second rule: no one gets to decide what to do on their own. You consult me, I consult you, okay? Third rule: keep up. I'm not stopping for breaks every half hour," Beatrix said.
"Okay, okay, sorry."
Roland went to their camping site. He pulled up the rocks that surrounded the fire and scattered them. Birds sang in the forest, and he swore he heard a distant laugh. The wind played with the ashes, gone cold in the night. Roland grabbed handfuls of ashes and shoved them into his backpack's front pocket.
"What are you doing?" Beatrix asked.
"Taking the ashes. To wash our hands," he said as he packed the last of it. He stood and stomped out the rest, scattering it. No need for potential pursuers or bandits to know they were there.
"Wash your hands?"
"Yeah, it works. Not as reliable as soap, but it'll do in a pinch. I don't have soap with me."
Beatrix shrugged and walked away. She shouldered her pack and bow and left the parking lot.
He followed her to the forest, sparing one last glance at the car graveyard. He waved goodbye and thanked them for the service they once gave and wished he could've been there. Maybe he wouldn't have been so mean to his car like Cid said people were. He'd certainly try to drive right and not rush past stop signs or drive without a seatbelt, as the adults liked to reminiscence.
Silence followed them within the shadows of the forest, dancing with the heat and humidity. Dragonflies zoomed in the shadows, in and out, small black blurs. Butterflies followed, lazy in their colorful flight. Bees flew with a pleasant buzz that was the opposite to the flies that kept jumping out of the shadows. Roland tapped the hilt of the golden sword as they walked northbound down the rocky trail. They're fine. They're dead. His thoughts wavered.
A bush rustled, and Beatrix raised her hand. "I got our lunch," she said. "Wait here."
Beatrix vanished, bow in hand, and left Roland to deal with his messy head. Roland squatted down and checked his backpack. He pulled the camera out and held it in front of his face, clicking at the useless power button. The insides of the camera looked fine to him, but he had no idea what water damage even looked like. Invisible, he guessed. He poked around the insides and tossed it back with a sigh.
"See? Lunch," Beatrix said. She held a rabbit by the hind legs. "You like rabbit?"
"Yeah, I think. It's been a while. We mostly eat pork at the Stronghold. You guys eat it frequently there?" Roland asked.
"Sometimes. Not as common as pigs and chickens."
"Yeah, rabbits weren't endemic to Redfield. These are the children of zoo animals that escaped."
"Poor sod survived the end of the world just to become our lunch," Beatrix said, pinching her nose. "Food chain. Whatever."
They continued in silence. They ate lunch without speaking under the shade of mango trees and then walked down the pine corridor. Several other handfuls of ashes filled his pack.
Roland started to see a blue-and-gray palette of colors on the horizon as they continued their trek, and he knew the first step of his improvised exam was done.