Rise

Chapter Six: The Road

"Are you alright to start walking?" Matt asked Emma, pointing towards the western horizon with his left index finger.

"Yeah, I think so," the girl replied, brushing a bit of dust off of off her white cotton tank top. This struck Matt as odd as it was already stained with dirt and blood, what does a little more dust matter?  

"Alright, let's go," Matt ordered as he pulled out his map. Flint trailed behind his feet as he started to walk westward, his head down and a finger tracing his path on the map. He pulled a pen from his pack and added to the dotted line he had marked on the frayed paper, in his best attempt to track his journey. Clucking his tongue in annoyance, Matt was dismayed that there would not be a town to stop in for many miles. He had hoped for somewhere close, somewhere to wash up and tend to Emma's brusies. Even though she said she was ok, he could see the pain each step caused her. He doubted she would admit to it so he decided against saying anything.

"Have you ever been around here before?" Matt asked as he folded up the map and returned it to it's pocket. Trying to keep the conversation light, he aimed to stay away from topics that would involve prying about Emma's parents. As much as she seemed to be ok, he knew she must have been torn up on the inside. If he were ever to watch his mother's murder, I don't know what I'd do.

"I think we came around here once when I was very small. We stopped in a small town -- I'm pretty sure it was called Scrap Metal -- and sold a few things we had collected. I remember a middle aged man buying a high-powered rifle but I can't be certain. It was a long time ago," she said wistfully. Matt watched as her dark brown eyes glazed over, clearly watching some sort of image of the past.

"Yup, that sounds like Scrap Metal. Ol' Garret still has that rifle too. He stands atop this old rusted tower and keeps an eye on the comings and goings of people. I guess he's also a bit of a bandit deterrent, not that there's much for raiding there anyways. The people of Scrap Metal live pretty modest lives, but they get on, just as well as anyone else I suppose," Matt said, a warmth growing in him as he remembered playing hide and seek with the town's children. That was when his mother still visited her sister, when his father was still around. 

"I used to live in a town like that. Well, similar in size and way of life. It wasn't made out of metal salvage. We lived in homes that had mostly survived the Great War, I mean, they had to be rebuilt in places but it wasn't from scratch. Then one day, we just left. I actually don't know why. I always assumed my parents just wanted to travel and explore but I never actually asked. I guess I'll never know," Emma trailed off as she looked away, her eyes beginning to glisten from tears.

Shit. That plan worked for all of five seconds, Matt grumbled in his head, trying to figure out where it went wrong.

"Hey . . . " Matt began, trying to think of the right words to say. "It's gonna be alright," was all he could come up with.

"Save it. I'm fine," Emma snapped, looking straight forwards. 

Matt just kept walking and stayed silent, too confused to respond. I know what I said was pretty lame but I don't think I deserved that. I was just trying to be nice, he thought, shaking his head. Anger started to burn in his gut but he tried his best to supress it, telling himself that Emma was going through hard times and that he should just let things go. 

They walked on in silence, the only sounds between them the shuffling of their feet along the dusty earth.

***

When night had fallen and everyone was sufficiently tired Matt decided it was a good time to stop and rest. Just like the night before, he slid off his pack and pulled out the thick blanket tucked away in the main pocket, laying it out on the most comfortable looking spot along the ground.