Mercy

Chapter 10

Clementine got a new shirt. She also found a replacement for her ratty jeans. Now dressed in khaki shorts, a graphic t-shirt, and hiking boots, she finally felt clean for the first time in months. Bradley also insisted on her cutting his hair, whether it was because of the comment she made or the fact it was truly bothering him, she wasn't sure.

The pair sat in a random hole in the wall diner somewhere in eastern Missouri. Clementine had long since stopped keeping track of their exact location as they traveled tens of miles a day. In eight days, they had already made it to a different state. Only half a continent to go. Clementine thought bitterly. The setting sun shined directly through the window and periodically blinded her.

Bradley's hair fell onto the red and white tiled floor. He sat backwards on a chair in front of her, giving random instructions as she cut his hair.

"Not too short," he said, "Keep it longer in the back, but not long enough to be considered a mullet."

"You're too good for a mullet?" Clementine asked, grabbing another lock of wavy black hair and giving it a haphazard snip.

"Yup."

"Can't be too picky in the apocalypse."

"Watch me."

He lifted his hand to feel his hair and Clementine swatted it away. "Do you want me to slice your finger?"

"That was my goal, actually."

"Don't talk back to the person with scissors."

"I can outrun you."

"I'll throw them."

He laughed. "I've seen your aim."

Clementine snipped another lock of hair. Overall, the best words to describe his new, up and coming haircut was choppy and uneven. At least it was out of his eyes.

"It looks awful, doesn't it?" Bradley asked after a second of silence.

Clementine felt a fresh wave of guilt, a different flavor than the one she had become accustomed to. His sister was missing, probably dead, and so he trusted her with cutting his hair, and here she was ruining it.

"Define awful."

Bradley groaned.

"It's layered," she tried.

He reached a hand up for a second time, Clementine didn't have it in her to smack it away again. Bradley ran his hands, she just noticed the thin scars that ran across them, through the chunks of hair she had chopped short. She could feel his disappointment waving off of him.

"I also need a haircut," she offered, "You can butcher mine next."

"Unclench, would you?"

"What?" Clementine was too surprised to be angry.

"I'm not mad, it's just hair." He glanced at her, she could fully see his dark eyes and was surprised to see the amusement in them. "I think this adds to the rugged apocalypse look I've been going for."

Clementine rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it'll really help you pick up the ladies." She had never been more aware of the fact that there was probably no one else for miles. Life had been uprooted and her priorities shifted from what her weekend plans were and what assignments she had due to how she would make it to next week. The thought saddened her.

"I always like to keep my options open." His tone was joking but Clementine could tell he was also struck by the wave of nostalgia.

Clementine had a moment's pause before she spoke. "Do you think we would've been friends if we met before all of this?" As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn't. The question was juvenile at best, and then there was the fact that neither had exactly put a label on whatever this was. Partnership seemed too formal, but friends may have been overstepping boundaries.