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His feet bled, but he didn’t feel pain. He was far beyond that. After four days of constant walking, Barkovitch had grown so accustomed to pain that it barely registered anymore.
Logically, he knew that his legs were strained, exhausted and hurting all over. If he let himself think about it, he could feel the pounding headache, the burn in his lungs and his organs failing him one by one.
But he couldn’t think about any of that. Thinking meant slowing down. And slowing down meant dying.
He had to keep walking, until he was the only one still walking; their winner. Then they would see him for what he was: the best. Better than all the other boys.
Only five were left - Stebbins, McVries, Garraty, Parker, and him. He could outlast them. He would outlast them. He saw how Stebbins’ allergies were tearing him apart; the guy was barely breathing anymore. He wouldn’t last long. Gary had his camera ready, just in case it happened soon. He could almost feel it coming.
McVries and Garraty were fags, so of course they wouldn’t outlast him. They were too weak, too soft, too gay. And it would be so humiliating if he died before them. His father would be too ashamed of him to ever forgive him.
No, these two didn’t count as real competition. He just hoped they would die soon. He couldn’t stand listening to their whispered conversations any longer.
He didn’t know how much strength he had left, but he knew he hated them enough to keep walking just a little farther.
Parker was the only mystery. The man looked tired, but not defeated. Built like a goddamn machine, he kept his eyes fixed ahead, barely talking, just walking like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Gary could only hope that Parker would trip, or that his knees would give up on him and he would not stand up again. That was his only competition now.
“The rabbit turns out to be flesh and blood after all.”
He heard these words and a gunshot cracked through the air. Barkovitch flinched, hands clamping over his ears, muffling the sound.
Stebbins was dead.
Four left. Three more to die.
Three more gunshots to hear.
One of them could be for him.
At least he would get to rest. Sit down. Lie down. The thought of that comforted him too much, made the ground look too inviting. He had to shove these thoughts away, force himself to think of something else.
“How the shit are you still walking? Are you even fucking human?” he asked, matching Parker’s pace.
“Mind your fucking business, killer.” Parker snarled, not even sparing him a glance.
That fucking word again. Killer.
Gary saw red. “I hope you trip and fucking die, motherfucker.”
And that was it. Barkovitch was alone again. Just him, his bleeding feet and the endless road. His eyelids drooped with every step, but he tried to keep them opened and his brain awake. After so many hours, he had nothing left to do, and he was too tired to think. It was so fucking boring. Maybe boredom would be the thing that killed him.
“Do you want to sleep, Ray?” he heard a soft whisper behind him. He didn’t hear the reply, but then McVries spoke again, quiet and tender. “It’s okay, I will stay up during the night. Go to sleep.”
Gary glanced backward. Garraty’s head rested on McVries’ shoulder, McVries’ arm wrapped around his waist, holding him up. That sight ignited something dark in Gary. Feelings of jealousy, fear and anger overcame him. He opened his mouth to sneer at them, but before he could, Parker’s hand clamped around his arm, shoving him forward.
“You say a fucking word to them, and you are dead, Barkovitch.”
“Rule eight, fucker. You can’t interfere with other walker’s--”
“Do I look like I fucking care?” Parker’s voice was low, dangerous. He wasn’t fucking around, he really looked angry. “I will probably die here anyway. And I don’t mind bringing you down with me.”
Barkovitch spat at him and moved away. He didn’t say a word to McVries and Garraty, but anytime he caught sight of the two boys, something twisted in him. He wanted to hit something, or scream, or claw his eyes out, or cry-- but he wasn’t a fucking girl, so he didn’t cry.
How could they be so open about… this? How could they walk with their hands clasped, whispering gay fucking love poems to each other, and just not care? Like it didn’t matter who saw? The whole fucking country was probably watching them through the cameras, seeing their every longing glance at each other. Anytime he saw their touches, it made him sick. But his eyes just naturally came back to them, following their every touch, every press of their arms together. And the longer he did look, the harder it became to agree with his father’s words.
***
He survived another night. It rained endlessly, his clothes clung to his skin and he shivered from how cold he felt. Gary finished his last can of beans and ignored the pain in his hip as best as he could
At first, everyone thought that walking in the rain would be the hardest part, but it wasn’t. The cold splatter of it helped to keep him awake; and staying awake meant staying alive. The mud made walking hell, it was so easy to slip, but the rain kept him alert enough to stay upright.
It didn’t stop raining even when the dawn came. The world was grey and the road was endless.
Then, he heard a splash, followed by a desperate shout. “Ray!”
He turned around, walking backward, careful not to slip. Garraty had fallen and instead of getting up… he just stayed there. It looked like he gave up. And McVries, the stupid idiot, came to his rescue.
Or, no, maybe not. It didn’t look like a rescue. He dropped down beside Garraty, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close.
The warnings for numbers twenty-three and forty-seven began.
Barkovitch noticed that Parker turned his head toward them, his expression pained. It looked like he was fighting with himself to yell at them to get up, or to accept their choice.
Watching them, Gary understood something. Those two survived this long because they were together. And one couldn’t go on without the other. A boy needs some buddies.
When the third warning came, Gary turned his head away, refusing to watch. He didn’t even lift his camera. They deserved that much privacy.
Two gunshots were heard through the air, one after the other.
He looked toward Parker. The man kept walking, steady and unflinching, his eyes fixed on the road, hands gripping his backpack straps. Gary couldn’t tell if the wet on Collie’s face was the rain or tears, until Collie sniffled and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.
“Crying, Parker? Didn’t take you for a girl.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say, yet the words tore out of him anyway. Parker didn’t flinch at his words or snap, he didn’t even look angry. It was like he just didn’t care for his words.
“Fuck off, Barkovitch. At least I feel things, you psycho.”
It was the end of their conversation, Parker walked away. Good. Barkovitch wouldn’t want to be near that crying fag anyway.
He flinched at his own thoughts, hearing them in his father’s voice. He slapped himself across the face and felt better.
***
One step. Then another. He felt like if he won he wouldn’t know how to stop his legs. They would keep moving him forward until he dropped dead.
Could he even remember what it was like to lie down? To sit? To stand without moving? He hadn’t focused on those small acts before; he had taken them for granted. Now he felt like walking was embedded into his bones. It was like he had been walking his whole fucking life.
The rain stopped sometime in the afternoon. The ground was still slippery and muddy, but at least the terrain flattened out. For a few hours they walked along a crowd of people shouting, waiting for one of them to collapse so they could crown a winner. They were past them now, for a moment. The next crowd would be waiting for them in another city by morning. Gary wanted to never see another cheering face again.
“Hey,” he said, moving closer to Parker, trying to strike up a conversation. The endless silent monotony was killing him. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I didn’t hate Garraty and McVries.”
Parker didn’t answer, but he didn’t move away either. Barkovitch took that as a good sign.
“I was actually kinda… jealous of them.” That made Parker finally look at him. “Like my dad used to say, you know, everybody needs a buddy. And they had that from the start. So, I was jealous, I guess.”
Parker snorted. “I don’t think that’s the sort of buddy your dad meant, Barkovitch.” There was a small smile tugging at his lips, like he found it funny.
Gary laughed, a too short and too loud sound to be pleasant.
“Ha! No, he would rather I die than end up with a buddy like that.”
He was still smiling, giddy from saying something that amused Parker, like he didn’t realize that his words weren’t funny anymore.
“Seriously?” There was no longer a smile on Parker’s face. Instead, he looked genuinely concerned. “He would rather have a dead son than a gay one?”
Barkovitch thought it was a dumb question.
“Can’t blame him.” Gary muttered and stepped away to walk alone, again.
I will kill you with my own hands if I ever see you with that fag ever again. The words lived in his head, always there, never leaving. He’d internalized them and acted according to them.
He scratched at his neck almost to the point of bleeding. He tried not to think about his father during the walk, but it was difficult not to. He felt like his every step was scrutinized by him. He could feel his father’s disappointment that his shit of a son couldn’t even find one buddy among the forty-nine other boys.
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud splash and then a cry.
He spun around immediately. Parker was on the ground, he must have slipped on the mud. He tried to push himself up, but once his knees hit the ground, his legs stopped answering. Gary could see how hard Parker tried to move again, but once his body could stop moving it didn’t want to start again. Parker wouldn’t make it.
Gary would be crowned the winner of the Long Walk in the next few minutes. His dream would come true, and he could finally stop walking, finally be rich.
And then… What then?
What waited for him after the walk ended?
“Number forty-eight, first warning!”
Dread flooded him. He ran towards Collie.
“Parker! Parker, motherfucker, get up!” he yelled at him, closing the distance. Parker looked at him, surprise written all over his face. “Get the fuck up!” Gary grabbed his arm and tried to haul him upright.
“Number forty-eight, second warning! Number five, first warning!”
Collie took Gary’s offered hand and stood up, knees buckling under him.
“Lean on me to start walking. It will be easier.”
And Parker did, without any hesitation. Gary still had some strength in him that he could help Parker move forward for some time until their pace evened out.
Once Parker could stop depending on Gary’s shoulder, he still didn’t step away.
“Why did you do it?” Parker asked, breathless, still trying to wrap his mind around what had happened. “The walk could have ended. You would have won. I just-- I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want this to end.” He mumbled it at first, then repeated louder. “I don’t want this to fucking end. What will be there for me after it’s over?”
Parker blinked. “You’d get your Wish and the money. You would be famous, you would-- Fuck, Barkovitch, you could have everything, and you just threw your chance away.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t fucking matter now. Maybe I should have left you there, but I didn’t. And you should be thanking me for saving your stupid ass.”
“You’re right. Thank you.” Parker said simply, but genuinely, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Gary knew that he would have to go through hours of self-loathing and beating himself up until he could force an apology or even a simple thank you out.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled, his shoulders hunched, looking at the road. He felt awkward, unused to being acknowledged in anything other than annoyance.
They trudged on in a companionable silence.
“What would you do with the money? If you win?” Barkovitch asked him.
Parker answered immediately. He knew exactly what he wanted.
“I would pay for my sister’s college. She was always a smart kid, I would hate for her to waste her talent because of money. I would help my parents, fix the bathroom they’ve always talked about. Help Hank’s wife, like we’d agreed. And the rest? Man, I don’t even know. Keep it for an emergency. Who really needs that much money anyway?” He shook his head, like he couldn’t imagine what people could possibly do with that amount of money. And he might have been right to wonder that, Gary thought. “And what about you?”
“I don’t actually know. Maybe that’s the reason I don’t want this walk to end. I have no idea what I would do with the money.”
“So why even sign up for this shit?”
“My dad wanted me to, I guess. He needs the money for more beer.” He laughed a self-depricating laugh. “And that’s all I’m good for to him. But I also wanted to prove to him than I am man enough to win this fucking thing.”
“He would really risk his son’s life to get more alcohol?”
Gary didn’t have to answer. His silence said enough. He tried to think of something else he could use the money for. Something real to share with Parker.
“I mean, maybe, if-- if I didn’t give that money to my father, I could help my meemaw. She got sick and the treatment and the meds-- We don’t have money for that. And my father wouldn’t help her, even if he could.”
His voice faltered. The thought of her waiting, still hoping for him to come home, hollowed him out from the inside. Then, Parker’s hand found his shoulder, a gentle squeeze that said he understood. It helped more than Gary could say.
***
They survived another night.
On the sixth day a wall of people greeted them in the next city. They were shouting their names, leaning forward to get closer, to see them die.
Gary felt his chest tighten so hard he thought his ribs might cave in. All he wanted to do was crouch down, tuck his head in between his knees, and breathe until he stopped shaking. The crowd made him overwhelmed, he felt like he was in a haze.
Parker must have noticed. His hand landed on the back of Barkovitch’s neck and squeezed it, just hard enough to anchor him in the moment, reminding him that someone was next to him.
“Barkovitch, breathe. Try to ignore them. They aren’t important, we are. Talk to me. Tell me anything, just stay here with me. Don’t go into your head.” Parker’s voice was steady. It felt like a lifeline.
Breathe in, breathe out. He could do it.
“I-- I don’t know what to talk about.” His voice felt weak. He could barely hear himself over the cries from the crowd, Just die already! He won’t make it far!
“Anything. Anything at all. Shit, tell me about your pet, your family, your first fucking crush, literally anything, just stay with me. We are almost past them. Hold on just a few minutes more.”
“Okay. Okay, so-- I really love photography. Always have the fucking camera on my neck, right?” Each word felt like he had to force it out of himself. But the longer he talked, the easier it got. “I like to… document stuff. My memory, it changes things, changes people and their words get twisted. But photos-- they stick. It makes it easier to just remember. People, voices, fuck, even smells. It makes me feel sane. Kinda like talking right now. It grounds me, I guess.”
They passed the worst of the crowd. The audience left disappointed and hungry for blood, not satisfied with the show they got from them. Their little puppets refused to entertain them and drop dead. Gary wanted to spit in their faces.
He didn’t say thank you to Parker, but he hoped the other boy would read it in his eyes. He couldn’t force the words, voice these feelings inside him.
“Can I see them? The photos?” Collie asked.
Gary blinked, surprised. “Are you sure? Not all of them are… nice.”
“I want to remember.”
Gary handed Parker the camera and watched as he looked through the photos, terrified of what Collie would think of him.
He told Parker the truth, not all of the photos were nice.
Gary had photographed the deaths of most of the boys. He’d learnt to use the lens as a shield and it made it easier to look at all of what was happening. He could pretend he was somewhere else, safe behind the glass. It was a coward’s safety, and he knew it. He knew that his reasons for taking those photos were fucked up, and that he was fucked up. He couldn’t say any of that to Parker, though. He wouldn’t get it.
But not all of the photos were grim. There were pictures of the landscape; it was Gary’s first time out of his home state, and the difference in the nature surrounding him was noticeable. There were candid shots of other guys too, when they could pretend they were just normal boys. Tressler laughing at something Stebbins had said. Hank and Art making stupid faces at each other. Pearson dancing while walking - he remembered it was at the start of the walk, while they all had much more strength in them. And more optimism.
“I envy them,’ Collie said, voice breaking. He was looking at a photo of McVries and Garraty tossing a baseball, smiling at each other. “They found something real in this fucking walk. I wish they had more time.”
Gary scoffed, killing the emotional moment. He felt uncomfortable with Collie’s softness and his emotions, like it pried at something in him he didn’t want to know.
“Yeah, more time to suck cock and be fags together,” he snapped.
Parker’s face hardened. “Stop saying shit like that or I will seriously make you eat your own tongue, motherfucker.”
“What, you a fag too?”
Parker looked straight at him, his stare boring into Gary’s soul. “And what if I am? Why the fuck would it matter, Barkovitch?”
He laughed, “Stop fucking around, Parker.”
“I’m not fucking around,” Parker’s patience thinned. “Tell me why would that matter? What would that change? I don’t get it, Barkovitch, you’re so fucking obsessed with cocks and everyone around you being gay. What the fuck does it matter?”
That shut him up quickly. He never thought about why that would matter. He just knew that it would.
Because if a man like Parker could be queer, a big muscular guy, then maybe anyone else could be. And that shook the foundation of everything his father had beaten into him. Not only pansy boys like Garraty or Rank, or-- or him according to his father, but he wasn’t, his father just said that because he didn’t look or act like a real man should. His hair was too long, and he was too skinny, and too weird, and he never had a girlfriend. That was enough for his father to treat him like he was broken and disgusting.
What did it matter?
“It’s-- It goes against nature, men shouldn’t--” The words had been hammered into him. Words that he heard almost daily, sometimes spoken to his face, sometimes heard while he was hiding from his father.
He felt sick at the thought that he was becoming like his father - possessed by the thoughts of men and terrified of them so much that he ended up hating them, because it was easier than hating himself.
Forty-eight boys had died despising him, thinking of him in a way that he thought about his father. The revelation made him want to disappear.
Barkovitch hit his head. Once. Twice. He was so fucking tired. Every step felt heavier, the ground uneven beneath his aching feet. He hated himself, but he hated his father more for shaping him into the person he was today.
Parker didn’t comment, he just kept holding the camera and waiting for Gary’s words.
“My father made sure that I remember those words.” Gary said quietly, ashamed. “They aren’t mine. I believed him all my life because I had no other choice. But--” Oh, his father will be furious, if they show this on TV. He felt a weird sense of pride at that. “McVries and Garraty were normal dudes. They weren’t the monsters my father said.”
They walked in silence, Parker mulling over Gary’s words, like he was considering something. The crunch of their boots on the dirt road was the only thing breaking the silence.
Finally, Parker said, “No, we aren’t. Monsters, I mean.”
We? Did that mean what Barkovitch thought it meant? “What do you mean, we?”
“I like both,” Parker said, eyes set on the horizon. He deliberately wasn’t looking at Gary. “Girls and boys.”
Gary gaped at him. “But you-- you look so normal.” His voice cracked at the last word. He said the wrong thing again. He winced and apologized, feeling Collie’s scrutinizing eyes at him. “Old habits. Sorry.”
Parker didn’t look angry, just tired. He could feel how exhausting each step was for him, how each step was a silent battle of is it really worth it? What if I give up?
But they both kept fighting.
Gary’s curiosity won over caution. “Did you ever-- you know, kiss a guy?” He asked, before he could stop himself. He just couldn’t imagine Parker with a dude. Not that he wanted to imagine that, of course.
“Yeah,” Collie said, almost absently, like he was deep in his memories. “I was fourteen. He was sixteen. We went to school together. We-- kissed a few times, but nothing came of it. I think we were both too afraid. And then he moved, and that was that.” He spoke like it was something he didn’t care about, didn’t think about for years, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.
Gary felt alive in a way he hadn’t before. His whole body buzzed, tense with anticipation of something unnamed, his stomach knotted. He was biting on his fingernails until he could taste blood.
“I never had a crush on a girl.” Gary said suddenly, before he could change his mind. Saying it out loud was earth-shattering to him. It was the bravest he had ever felt.
Parker looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment his face softened.
“What about a boy?”
Gary opened his mouth but nothing came out. His throat closed around the words. He didn’t answer, but his silence was louder than anything he could have said.
God, his father would kill him if he survived this walk. That thought made him sick.
Parker didn’t push, he accepted Gary’s silence as a response. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward now, each of them deep in thought.
The road stretched before them grey, and familiar. It was the same view for six fucking days. The beauty of the new state faded with each day and now it became just sad and grey.
“Do you mind if I take your photo?” Collie asked, holding up Gary’s camera. Gary had forgotten he still had it.
“Why?”
“Because everyone’s in these pics, except for you. You are also worth remembering, you know that, right?”
Barkovitch didn’t know. But he also didn’t feel like arguing with Collie now, when they finally reached some sort of an understanding.
He nodded once, letting Collie lift the camera. The shutter clicked softly.
Gary tried to look casual and not as awkward as he felt. He didn’t know how he looked - probably like shit after six days of walking, eyes sunken, face pale and smeared with dirt. But when Parker looked at the photo, he smiled a small, honest smile, and said, “You look so pretty here. It’s a shame there’s no more photos of you.”
Gary got his camera back, but Collie’s words echoed in his head long after.
You look so pretty here. He didn’t think anyone had ever called him that, not even his meemaw. She called him handsome, sometimes, but that was different. He never knew if she wasn’t just saying that because she was supposed to, as his family.
But pretty? It was soft, vulnerable. It was something girls got to be, not boys.
So why did his heart sped up at the word? Why did he feel so flustered? This simple word made him feel so good. He found that he didn’t mind being called that. Even if it was girly, or gay, or whatever. So what? He tried to ignore his father’s voice booming in his head, listing all the reasons why he should mind.
Maybe boys could be pretty too. Maybe he could be. And maybe Parker really thought that he was pretty.
He tried to focus on his steps, one foot after the other, trying and failing to stop the small smile that showed on his face.
***
Gary fell asleep while walking, it was becoming easier with each day. His body moved on autopilot. He never felt fully rested, but even those short naps helped his mind to stay sane.
Each time he dozed off, Rank came to him. He dreamt of Rank’s dead body following him, his hollow eyes always watching. No matter how fast Gary walked, he could never outrun him. Then, like each night in his dreams, he tried to run from him, shouting that he was sorry, that he really didn’t mean for him to die like that. But those words didn’t matter to Rank who was always behind him.
He felt hands on his neck, tightening. Gary tried to pry them off, but they fell apart in his grip, chunks of rotten meat slapping wetly to the ground.
He woke with a scream, stumbling forward, heart hammering so hard it hurt. A hand caught his shoulder, steadying him. He was trembling.
“What happened man?” Parker’s voice broke through the ringing in his ears. “That must have been a pretty bad dream. Do you wanna talk abo--”
But Gary couldn’t. He could still see Rank, hear the screams, smell the decay of his dead body. His stomach twisted and he dropped to his knees, throwing up. His hands touched the ground, but he felt like he was still touching the rotting meat of Rank’s arms.
He trembled violently, shivers running up his arms. He wasn’t strong enough to get up. His body was shaking too hard. Gary knew that would die here, now. Face down in his own vomit, with Rank’s hollow eyes burned into his mind.
A fitting end for a piece of shit like him.
Then he felt strong hands under his arms, hauling him upright. Parker’s voice was somewhere far away, muffled by the roaring static in his ears. His blood pounded in his ears.
His feet started to move, but not by his own will, but because Parker was half-carrying him, forcing him to keep walking. Keeping him alive.
When Gary finally found his voice again, it was barely a whisper. “Why would you save me?” He asked the same question that Collie had asked him a day ago.
“I’m not ready to end this,” Collie answered. “I can’t imagine what my life will look like after it ends, if I live. Right now, I’ve got one purpose - to walk as long as I can. But what happens when it’s over?”
“You go back to your family, motherfucker.” Gary rasped. His voice was dry, and he could still taste the vomit in his mouth. “Your sister gets an education, your folks get rich as fuck and you never have to walk again.”
“And forty-nine ghosts will be haunting me for the rest of my life.” Parker said, his voice pained. “I would never be free of the memories. Of them. Of everything it took from me.” Collie’s gaze held Gary’s, unflinching, as he spoke the last words. Gary’s throat tightened, and he gulped, feeling the full meaning of the words settle in his chest.
But his ghosts haunted him even now when he was alive.
“I dreamt of Rank,“ saying that name felt wrong. The guilt was eating at him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again after what happened. I see him when I close my eyes. I hear him, his screams… So, I understand. I think no one’s ever okay after they win.”
“I heard the guy who won two years ago, Matthew, I think, killed himself. Couldn’t live with it all.”
“I remember hearing that,” Gary gave a shaky laugh. “I remember I laughed at him. I thought he was so fucking stupid. You win, you get rich, and then you just… kill yourself? I didn’t get it.” He looked at Parker, the words sitting heavy between them. “But now I do.”
“Yeah,” Parker said softly. “Me too.”
***
They were both getting more tired. It had been a full six days of walking. In a few hours, the sun would rise and their seventh day would begin. He didn’t know if it was courage or madness that still made them move forward.
Gary glanced at Collie. He had circles beneath his eyes that made him look older than he was.
“What do you wish you’d done differently in life?” Barkovitch asked, his voice rough. He signaled to one of the guards to get him a bottle of water.
“I think… I wish I had played with my sisters more. I wish I hadn’t argued with my parents so much.” His voice broke. “Fuck, I miss them so much. I miss them so fucking much. I want to go home to them. Hug my mom.”
Gary’s heart twisted. He glanced at the boy beside him, feeling the pain behind his words.
“Fuck the final wish. The things you wish for can’t be bought with the fucking money from the winning, and the fucking final wish can’t give it to you either. It’s all such bullshit.”
Collie squeezed Gary’s shoulder in a silent thank you. It helped to know that more people saw the Long Walk for what it was. Bullshit. Propaganda. It made the hours of walking through the rain and mud a little less heavy. The ache in his legs didn’t lessen, but for a fleeting moment, their struggle was shared and it made it all better.
“What about you?”
Gary’s throat felt tight. “I wish I had been a better person,” he said after a moment. “Had a friend.”
Collie’s lips curved into a soft, sad smile. He turned his head slightly, meeting Gary’s eyes.
“You made at least one friend.”
Gary’s heart fluttered at the words, beating faster than it should in his exhausted body. He had to dig his fingernails into his hands to stop himself from saying, or doing, something stupid. Collie considered him a friend.
“I also didn’t make other friends here,” Collie went on. “I was focused on walking, and I didn’t want to get too close to anyone, to make the pain of their death more bearable but--” He exhaled shakily. “But it doesn’t work like that. I still grieve for them. And the pain is there, but the friendship wasn’t. I’m so scared that they will all get forgotten, remembered only by the few scenes the fucking TV people decided to put on the screens.”
Gary nodded. He could picture the edited highlights, the sanitized version of their suffering, played for entertainment. It made his stomach twist.
“Loneliness can fucking kill you, man,” he muttered. “Even faster than exhaustion on this walk.”
Collie gave a bitter little laugh at that, agreeing with his words.
***
The road stretched endlessly ahead of them, their shadows long in the moonlight. Gary watched as their shadows walked together, no sign of exhaustion on them. They just kept walking arm in arm, graceful, almost like they were mocking the agony that was Gary’s and Collie’s every step.
“I think,” Collie said after a while, his voice soft, “in another life, we would have been friends.”
Gary’s chest tightened. “What’d we have been doing?”
Collie smiled faintly. “I would show you around Sioux Falls, take you on a boat ride through the river there. It’s so much fun. We could even go on walks, walks that have a finish line.” He kicked a small stone forward with the tip of his shoe. He seemed shy all of a sudden. Then, he added, “I like walking with you.”
“I like walking with you, too,” Gary tried not to think about how it sounded. Too earnest, too vulnerable, too gay. He told himself it was just friendly, just words between two tired boys. But when Collie’s cheeks flushed slightly in the moonlight, his heart skipped.
“Do you like camping?” Collie asked.
“Never been,” Gary said. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the muck under his fingertips. “Never had a crew to go with, but I always wanted to. If I had friends, that is.”
“I would take you camping,” Parker said, smiling again. “We could get the rest of the guys there with us. McVries, Garraty, Baker, Olson. Maybe even Stebbins or Harkness, if they wanted to join.”
Gary let out a sigh. The thought of all of them alive together seemed impossible now. “I think I’d also invite Rank with us.”
“Rank would go too, then,” Collie agreed. “You could take so many photographs of wild animals in the forest there. And of birds. There are some really beautiful birds in Sioux Falls. And I could play us something on the guitar each night by the bonfire, and all of you would make fun of me. But I wouldn’t care. I’d just be happy to spend that time with you.” His voice faltered, words catching in his throat, choked by the emotions he felt.
Gary couldn’t believe that someone could say something like that to him. He stared at Collie, at the soft curve of his mouth, the dreamy look on his face, and something inside him ached. No one had ever wanted to spend time with him before. Not really.
“Do you think the other guys would like me?” he asked, his voice small.
“They wouldn’t have a choice, Barkovitch. They’d have to get around. We’re a package deal now.”
Gary’s throat tightened, and before he could stop himself, he felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them away, but it was useless.
He wished for that other life so badly. A life where they could all be alive, be friends and do dumb stuff together. But that life was gone. Every name Collie had said was a ghost now.
When this all ended, it would either end with his death or the death of his only friend.
“I think--” Parker began, then stopped. He looked down at his feet, then at Gary again. “I think I would have asked you out. In another life.”
Gary’s breath caught. He didn’t even try to stop the sobs that came this time. He sniveled, shoulders shaking, not caring how it looked, not caring what his father would have thought.
Let him call him a girl, or a fag. It didn’t matter.
He was crying for a life that never came to be.
***
When the world was still dark, Gary felt brave enough to act on the feeling he had been ignoring for so long. He let his hand drop, his fingertips brushing against Collie’s hand. Gary could hear his heartbeat in his ears.
The cameras couldn’t see much in the dark, but it still felt like a risk, his first real act of courage.
Collie didn’t pull away. He just waited, patient and steady beside him. Waiting for Gary’s next move.
Gary’s breath trembled as he finally closed his hand around Collie’s. The hold was awkward, too tight, too desperate. His palms were clammy. Collie pulled his hand back, and Gary’s heart stopped.
Oh God, he’d ruined it, misunderstood everything, and now he will get punched and called a--
But then Collie’s hand returned, sliding into his. This time their fingers intertwined, warm and sure. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.
***
The seventh day arrived. No human should be made to walk nonstop for seven days. Gary’s thoughts wandered aimlessly. There should be a limit, he thought. A point where if you get to a certain number of days, every person still walking gets to live.
But that wasn’t how it worked, so there was no point thinking about it.
They were still holding hands.
“Hey Parker,” Gary said, making sure Collie was awake. Collie turned his head toward him, blinking the tiredness from his eyes. “If I win, I promise to make sure your family gets enough money to repair that bathroom. And to send your sister to college.”
Collie’s lips trembled into a soft smile. “Thank you. And if I win, your grandma will get the proper treatment. And I promise that your father will never see any of that money.”
Gary laughed at that. For the first time in days a warm feeling of relief spread through him. His meemaw would get the treatment no matter if he won or not. He believed that Collie would keep that promise. That was enough.
And with that, Gary’s resolve dissolved. He didn’t need to win anymore. He had already gotten everything he’d ever wanted - a friend, someone who cared. Like he was worth remembering. And his meemaw would get her treatment. That was all that truly mattered to him, anyway.
And Collie had a family, a community to help him work through his grief. Gary knew that Parker would be alright, after some time. Collie could still learn to be alright in this life.
But Gary knew that he would only be alright in that other life, the life with bonfires and camping trips with friends. He thought of Matthew and how it ended for him. He didn’t think he would wait the two years before killing himself.
He let go of Collie’s hand, and was startled by how much he already missed the warmth of his hand. He reached for the camera, unclasped it from his neck and pressed it into Collie’s hands.
“Thank you for being a friend.”
Parker frowned, confused, gripping the camera tightly.
“What are you-- No, Gary, what the fuck, wait!”
But Barkovitch was already slowing. His knees hit the ground, finally letting his aching muscles rest.
“Get the fuck up, man!” Parker’s voice cracked, as he tried to get him up. Gary shook his head weakly.
“I’m really sorry,” Gary said. “This could only end in one of two ways, and this one is better. Go home. Hug your mom.”
They were both crying now. Collie understood that this was how it ended. Barkovitch had made his choice.
They heard the footsteps of soldiers in the distance, coming closer to them.
Collie’s fingers trembled as they brushed the tears from Gary’s face, lingering to trace his features like he was trying to memorize the shape of him. Their faces were so close that when Collie spoke, Gary could feel his breath on his lips. “Thank you for walking with me.”
The guards came then, taking Collie away, no matter how hard he struggled against them. Gary barely registered his third warning being called. The Major descended from his platform, rifle ready.
Gary tried not to be afraid. He didn’t regret his choice, his legs wouldn’t have carried him much farther. But the fear came anyway. Imagining his death wasn’t as scary as the realization that it was seconds away from happening.
Every instinct in him fought against what was coming. God, he wanted to live so badly. He wanted to live, but not if it meant that Collie had to die instead.
So he stopped looking at the Major, stopped thinking about his death, and instead he focused his eyes on Parker. Their eyes locked.
Collie stopped fighting, realizing it was for nothing. He just looked back at him and began to sing, his voice soft and mournful. Gary didn’t know the words, but he guessed it was a Lakota song. He understood what it symbolized, though.
Gary focused only on Collie’s tear-streaked face and on his voice, singing for him. The camera hung around Collie’s neck now, a piece of him that would stay with Parker forever. And a record of all the other boys. He hoped it would bring Collie comfort, to carry these memories with him. So that all forty-nine of them weren’t just ghosts to him. So that he could remember them all alive, not only dead.
He tuned everything else out - his irregular breathing, the shouts from the crowd.
He didn’t even hear the Major’s final words. He didn’t hear the gunshot.
All he heard was Collie’s voice, still singing for him.