Life is ironic. It takes depression to understand happiness, absence to value presence.
Not wanting to let her go again, I tightened my grip on her hand.
"Are you okay, Max? You've been quiet. If something's eating at you, just say it. You don't have to carry it alone." Clementine's voice was steady, but her eyes searched for mine.
"I'm conflicted, Clementine. I've lost too many people I care about. I don't think I could survive losing anyone else. Sometimes I feel like I just want to keep you close... never let you out of my sight. But I know that's not love. That's fear. If you love a bird, you set it free. And I'm scared of doing that. So, I keep wondering… do I hold on too tight, or let you fly?"
The car hummed softly, but my heart pounded as I waited for her answer.
Clementine didn't hesitate.
"Max… I'm not a bird." She gave a small, knowing smile. "And you're not a cage."
She squeezed my hand.
"I've lost people too. I know what it feels like to be afraid of the next goodbye. But loving someone isn't about trapping them or letting them go. It's about choosing each other. Every day. I'm here because I want to be. Not because I'm stuck."
She looked out the window briefly, then back at me.
"And yeah… I'm scared sometimes. But I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."
I let out a breath and laughed softly. I hadn't realized how much she'd grown in a few months. She had matured a lot, but she was still Clementine.
Clementine narrowed her eyes. "What's so funny?"
"We're barely teenagers, and we're talking like we've lived three lifetimes."
She smirked. "Feels like we have."
I pulled her into a hug. "Why am I worrying about losing you when you're right here?"
"Exactly," she said against my shoulder. "So maybe stop trying to predict the end and just live in the middle."
I nodded. "The only thing that matters to me is you. Remember when you said you wanted to live in a treehouse?"
Her eyes lit up instantly. "Wait… you're serious?"
"I built one. With my own hands."
Clementine blinked. "Max… you actually did that?"
"I don't know where life's taking us. But as long as we're walking it together, I'm good."
She smiled soft, certain. "Me too. And for the record? I'm not giving up the sky. I just want you flying next to me."
I chuckled. "Okay, that might've been even more dramatic than what I said."
She nudged my arm. "Shut up."
"I think we're getting way too sentimental," I said as the camp gates came into view. "Camp's here."
The car rolled through the entrance, and a massive wave of cheers erupted. Blood Guards stepped forward to maintain order as people knelt in reverence and respect.
Clementine shifted slightly beside me. Even after explaining the situation, she wasn't fully used to it. Neither was I.
I brushed my thumb across her knuckles. "Hey. I've got you."
She gave a small nod, grounding herself.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go."
Moving past the kneeling crowd, I noticed a group of fully armed Blood Angels walking in formation.
"My Lord."
I walk quickly at the familiar voice, but he was already in front of me.
"My Lord, are you not going to introduce me to this young lady?"
I let out a quiet sigh. "Clementine, this is Father Basil... the one I told you about. Basil, this is Clementine."
She tilted her head, eyes bright with curiosity. "Hi… Father Basil. I've heard stories about you from Max."
"I hope you've heard only good things, young lady. The Lord was worried sick about you. I'm happy to see you safe and even happier that we fulfilled our first order from Him. But I humbly request that you not use His name in public."
Father Basil bowed slightly.
Clementine smirked, that playful spark flashing in her eyes. "Oops. My Lord… sorry for saying His name. I guess I can be a little… reckless."
I chuckled. "My lady, you're forgiven... but don't make it a habit."
Basil blinked, caught off guard. He was used to my serious demeanor; this version of me unsettled him. Still, he straightened.
"My Lord, without your guidance, the camp's work has slowed. They need your direction immediately. I've placed the daily report on your desk."
Work.
For almost four months, I had focused entirely on strengthening this community. I barely slept, pouring all my energy into gathering knowledge and searching for Clementine. Now that I had found her, all I wanted was to be with her.
But this community needed me.
Noticing my hesitation, Clementine leaned closer, teasing but earnest. "Max… I think your camp needs you right now. I'll hang out with Molly, explore a little, see what you've built. Meet me at the treehouse later. And… one tiny thing."
She whispered in my ear, her breath warm, "I lost the condom. Are we… okay with doing it without? I'll be waiting at the treehouse."
Before I could respond, she darted off toward Molly, skipping with a mischievous grin.
For a moment, I stood frozen, unsure what to say.
Basil glanced at me, sharp and aware.
"What are you staring at? Let's go."
He nodded and followed; my mind was still on her.
---
I began my work, giving instructions, ensuring everyone followed the guidelines I had established. Hours later, I made my way to the blacksmith's workshop.
As I entered, a young man in his twenties approached.
"My Lord, I'm glad you came. We've finished making the chainmail armor. Let me show you."
I nodded.
Chainmail was invaluable. While it couldn't stop bullets, it provided strong protection against the undead and most melee weapons. If I could equip the entire force, they'd be shielded from most threats.
Inside, a machine produced chainmail rings while more than thirty workers linked them together. At the sight of me, all immediately stood and saluted.
I waved them off. "Continue working."
"Lord, we've completed 100 sets of chainmail in two months. I've also trained a few people to maintain the machine. What is my next task?"
He wasn't a traditional blacksmith but an engineer. Together, we had built the prototype for the chainmail machine, one he later perfected.
Satisfied, I said, "I'm promoting you to Level Two Angel Wing. Your next task is to make concrete. Take a few engineers with you. I want results within two months. Understood?"
"Yes, my Lord. I won't disappoint you."
I left and entered another workshop, this one belonging to Daniel, a true blacksmith.
The room felt like an oven as the power hammer repeatedly struck glowing metal.
"Daniel, have you completed the 100 spears?"
He exhaled smoke into the fire. "Almost. But these fools can't follow simple directions."
The men and women nearby glared at him but continued hammering harder.
"If you want my respect," Daniel barked, "learn to be a good blacksmith. Until then, work like donkeys!"
Ignoring the tension, he handed me a spear.
"The spear is six feet long. The head is high-carbon steel, sharp, durable, and easy to maintain. All 100 will be finished within a week. That's my guarantee."
"That's perfect. I won't keep you any longer."
Spears were ideal. They required minimal training, allowed distance from threats, and were effective against the undead, though less practical in tight spaces. With limited firearms and ammunition, melee weapons were more sustainable. Guns would be reserved for emergencies. In that regard, the spear was king.
As I walked, I nearly collided with Nicole returning from a clearing mission.
"Lord. Remember that small community I mentioned yesterday?"
"Yes. What about them?"
She smiled, a rare, unsettling sight.
"They're friendly so they're joining us. But… there's a military base a few miles out. Scouts say it's still running, stockpiled with weapons. The catch? It's occupied."
I couldn't suppress the grin.
"Tomorrow, we will leave. Gather as much intelligence as possible and prepare twenty experienced men."
Nicole nodded eagerly and left to prepare.
Father Basil frowned. "Lord, they'll have firearms. It's not safe for you to go. Twenty men aren't enough...you should bring at least a few hundred."
"I know. That's why I'm going. Twenty men is enough to load the trucks. That's all we need."
Basil's eyes widened briefly before he lowered his head.
"As you wish, Lord."