Fanfiction? On my fan site??

Two years ago, Billy Stebbins won The Long Walk.

You remember watching it, seeing him get sick and thinking he’d die of it. Being both baffled and amazed at how he continued despite it. The shock that came when he ended up winning.

But that was nothing compared to the shock of hearing him say “I want… to have tea with you… As your son…” when The Major asked him for his wish.

You thought maybe he meant it metaphorically, or maybe he meant he wanted The Major to treat him like his son.

But it the days that followed, news spread like wildfire that Billy Stebbins was, in fact, The Major’s son. His bastard.

It became a whole spectacle— The Major reuniting with his son, taking him into his home, even letting him live with him. Instead of disappearing into obscurity like every other past winner of The Long Walk, Billy Stebbins became an icon, another symbol of The Major’s legacy and reign. How kind he was to take in his bastard. How proud he must be of his son. How wonderful it was that The Long Walk brought Billy Stebbins home.

“I bet he has others,” Your twin brother, Michael, had said. “I bet if that one had died instead of winning, he wouldn’t have even bat an eye.”

You knew he was right. If The Major had one bastard, who’s to say he didn’t have more? That wasn’t the kind of thing you could speculate about out loud, though. Not unless you wanted to get Squadded.

So Billy Stebbins got his wish. He got to be The Major’s son, for the whole nation to see. Even if the whispers of “bastard” would follow him forever.

—

You would’ve damn near killed your brother, if he hadn’t left without telling you first.

Like every boy age 18-25, Michael had signed up for the Long Walk every year. His name was never picked from the lottery, to your relief, so you got to keep your brother.

Except this year, the last year he was eligible, his name did get picked, but he didn’t tell you. Not when he got his letter, not even the week before the Walk. No, instead he hit the road one day before the Walk, before you woke up, and left a note for you telling you what was happening.

He did this all the time: Made plans and then didn’t tell you the plans until he was already knee-deep in it. What was worse was when he decided to rope you into these plans, which he would also neglect to tell you until absolutely necessary. You can’t count how many situations you’ve had to drag the two of you out of because of that.

He always thought he knew what was best for you.

It was just after midnight, and you were in some town in Maine. You had caught news that the Walk was down to the final two about an hour ago, and you on the street among throes of people, waiting to see the final two.

One of them had to be Michael. You don’t know what you’d do if it wasn’t him. He was all you had left.

A few people gasped, and the mild chatting that had been going on picks up, and you know the walkers must be in sight now. You stand up from the bench you’d been sitting on and push your way to the front of the crowd, elbowing past a couple people roughly and mentally apologizing to them in your head.

You see them walking down the street, silhouetted in the street lights. One of them is sobbing, by the sounds of it.

They step under the street lights, and you can clearly see them now. Your heart soars as you see one of them is Michael— But he’s looking worse for wear. There are dark circles under his eyes, his face looks gaunt, and when you glance down for a moment you see his shoes are gone and his feet are bleeding. Light glints off his face, and you realize tears are streaming down his cheeks, though the audible sobs are coming from the other Walker.

You start walking to keep pace with them. The crowd is just kind enough to allow you to keep moving, thought the probably think you’re just a hardcore fan. “Michael!”

Michael blinks and turns his head to the side, his eyes taking a second to land on you and focus.

“You’re gonna win, Michael. You’re gonna fucking win!” You yell over the din of the crowd.

For a moment, you don’t think he’s caught your words. But then a tired grin crosses his face, and he lifts two fingers up in a mock salute. His meaning is loud and clear to you, damn right I am.

You grin back, still keeping pace with him. The sobs from the other Walker have started to quiet down.

“Warning, number three! Final warning!” Fear gripped your heart for a moment, but Michael must’ve sensed it, because he grabbed his dogtag and held it up for you to see— Number twenty-one. It wasn’t his warning.

Number three, however, stumbled over his feet and fell flat onto the ground, not even putting his arms out to catch himself as he fell. Michael started to turn to look, and you yelled, “Keep going!”

For once, he listened to you, and kept walking. Just a few seconds later, gun shots rang out, and the crowd erupted in cheers. From the corner of your eye you saw the Major step into the road, raising a gun and shooting number three in the head, though you were sure he was already dead. “And we have our winner— Michael Doe!”

You were too focused on Michael to really look at him. Michael finally stopped walking, a dazed looking coming over his eyes as the crowd roars.

“So, tell me,” The Major said, walking in front of your brother and looking at him through his mirrored aviators. “What’s your wish?”

Michael swallows hard and blinks, swaying on his feet. “I… I want…” He raises his arm, pointing a finger at you. “I want… my sister… to marry your son…”

Before you can comprehend what he’s said, Michael’s legs give out, and he collapses to the ground.

—

Michael never told you what his wish was gonna be.

Had he told you, you would’ve talked him out of it. Because what the fuck?

Paramedics were already on the scene when Michael collapsed, and took him to the hospital right away. They didn’t allow you to ride along (no matter how many times you yelled “I’m his sister!”), so you had to figure out your own way to the hospital. Once there, talking to the front desk was a whole other ordeal, and it took much longer than you liked to convince them that you were in fact related to this year’s winner.

The nurse led you down the halls, cold and sterile, before arriving at an open door and directing you inside.

You stepped in to see your brother in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and various machines.

“You’re lucky,” The nurse said, “Most winners come out much worse.” She turns and walks back down the hall before you can ask her what she means.

You walk over to your brother’s bedside, pulling a nearby chair over and sitting down. All you do for a long moment is just stare at him, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

I want my sister to marry your son.

What the hell was he thinking? What right did he have to make that wish? Were they even going to uphold it? Surely the Major wouldn’t make his son marry a random stranger because someone wished for it?

But it wasn’t just someone. It was the winner of The Long Walk. Had they ever turned down a wish before? Billy Stebbins’ wish didn’t get turned down, and his was pretty outrageous.

Not to mention how… Demeaning it was. Did he think you’d just go along without a word? He didn’t even bother to fucking ask you before making that wish— You didn’t want to marry the Major’s bastard, had he considered that? Had he considered your feelings at all?

The rage, the frustration, all of it was boiling up inside your chest as you stared at him.

“… You’re a fucking idiot,” You whisper.

No response.

“What the hell am I going to do? I can’t fix this fuck-up of yours.”

The heart monitor continues to beep.

“We’re supposed to be a team and you keep pulling bullshit like this! What happens if they won’t let you change your wish, huh? What happens to me?”

His eyelashes don’t even flutter.

“You’re a fucking idiot and I can’t believe you would do this to me!” You’re on your feet now, glaring down at Michael. “You’re a selfish prick and I—”

“Careful, I think the nurse is thinking about kicking you out,” A voice interrupts you, making you realize you were starting to yell. Your head whips around to see someone tall and broad leaning against the open doorway. He’s blonde with a sharp jawline and a familiar face that takes you a second to place.

The Major’s bastard himself. Billy Stebbins.

You blanch a little, suddenly feeling awkward and out-of-place. He chooses to fill the silence with a question, “Are you the sister?”

“Why do you care?” You say, narrowing your eyes at him.

He raises his eyebrows. “Aside from the fact that I’m marrying you?”

Ah. That’s a good point. Instead of answering, you turn your gaze back to your unconscious brother. Denying he was your brother would’ve been a useless endeavor— the two of you look too much alike. Same skin, hair, eyes, and everything. You look like a girl version of him (or perhaps he’s the boy version of you).

“The hospital cafeteria is still open, if you want to go,” Billy Stebbins says. You look back at him, and he’s shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s rather bored. “You look like you could use a meal.”

It’s a jab at your appearance, you just know it. It’s nearing the early hours of the morning and you haven’t slept at all, not to mention the last-minute traveling you’ve been doing the past few days, you definitely look like a wreck. You scowl slightly, and before you can think better of it say “I would, but there’s a fucking jackass standing in the doorway.”

His eyebrows shoot up again, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward, before he steps back and out of the doorway.

You walk out of the room, turning and walking briskly past Billy Stebbins. You only make it a few steps before he says, “Cafeteria’s the other way.” You pause and slowly turn, not hiding the contempt on your face as you walk past him again and towards the cafeteria. To your chagrin, he follows.

“Can I get your name?”

“Doe.”

“I meant your first name, Doe.”

“Why are you here?” You ask once you reach the elevator, clicking the button to go down.

“I wanted to see who it is I’m going to marry,” He replies simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“We’re not getting married, they’ll make him change his wish.”

“That particular wish doesn’t break any of the rules. It’ll hold up.”

You don’t say anything in response to him, staying silent as you enter the elevator, exit to the first floor, and walk all the way to the cafeteria. He follows you like a shadow.

There aren’t exactly many options in the cafeteria, and most look rather unappetizing, but you’d spent too many nights going hungry to complain about food quality. You opted for the cheapest option, an egg salad sandwich, but just as you were rifling through your wallet for change, Billy Stebbins reached an arm around you and handed the cashier a card. The cashier took the card despite your protest, and Billy Stebbins had paid for you, not even sparing you a second glance when he tucked the card back into his own wallet.

Rich bastard. He probably thinks he can buy your affection, or your compliance.

You storm over to an empty table and sit down, glaring at the table top as Billy Stebbins once again follows you and sits down across from you, crossing his arms on the of the table and watching you decimate your sandwich. You were hungrier than you thought, and the need for food overrode the fact that the sandwich tasted terrible.

“You didn’t know that was going to be his wish, did you?” The question catches you off-guard, and you look at Billy Stebbins once more. He’s regarding you with a hard-to-read look, his head tilted to the side slightly in a manner that’s almost endearing.

“What?” You say through a mouthful of egg salad.

“When I heard the wish, I half-expected you to be some fangirl foaming at the mouth to be near me. Not only are you not that, but you seem angry. Ergo, you didn’t know the wish.”

“Aren’t you an observant one, Billy.”

“You can call me Stebbins.”

You look at him for a long moment as you chew the last bite of your sandwich. You swallow and say, “If he had told me that was his wish, I woulda slapped him upside the head for it.”

Stebbins scoffs slightly, but he looks amused. “I can see why he didn’t tell you first.”

“I might still, when he wakes up.”

Stebbins’ eyes glance around for a moment, like he’s looking to see if there’s anyone nearby. It makes you glance around yourself, noticing that the cafeteria is almost empty, save for some soldiers by the entrance— When did they get there? Regardless, they’re still a bit far from you.

Stebbins leans in a little and says in a low voice, “You know, most winners of the Walk die fairly soon afterwards.”

Your eyes widen, and you lower your voice as well without thinking, “No way.”

“It’s true. Most can’t survive for very long after the injuries they sustain from the Walk. And many who do end up killing themselves instead. Why do you think so many fade into obscurity afterwards, never to be heard from again?”

“You’re lying.”

“How many winners do you know off the top of your head? How many can you name that are still in the public eye?”

“There’s you.”

Stebbins smiles, but it’s cold, almost taunting. “I became a public figure. The Major would look bad if he let his son die after winning, wouldn’t he?”

Your mind races, and you realize you can’t name a single winner who stayed in the public eye longer than a celebratory week. Your brow furrows and you feel your stomach turn, though you don’t think it’s from the egg salad being bad. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Your brother was smart with his wish. Make himself an in-law to The Major, and he’ll have to survive at least long enough to attend the wedding. They’ll put in the extra work to make sure he can walk his darling sister down the aisle.”

“That’s if they let the wish stand.”

“They will. They’re already planning the wedding for us.”

Your gaze drops to the tabletop again as the information rolls over in your head. The wish is going to go through. You’re trapped. But in being trapped, you may be saving your brother’s life. Or was he giving you up to save himself? You can’t decide which it is. You don’t think Michael was thinking that part through, if you were being honest.

The chair scraped against the ground as Stebbins stands up. “I’ll see you soon, Doe. The Major will get in touch soon.” You glance up to watch him walk away, and as he walks out of the cafeteria the soldiers who were manning the door turn and follow him out.

—

The lights were still off in Michael’s hospital room when you got back. Because of that, you had assumed he was still unconscious— Until you heard his voice say, “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“Michael—” You scramble to his bedside. He’s still lied down, but his eyes are open and bright despite how shitty he must be feeling, and he grins at you. “I swear, I leave to get food and that’s when you decide to wake up…!”

“Is the food any good?” He asks.

“Not at all.” You decide not to mention Stebbins visiting. At least not yet. “Michael… What the fuck was that wish?”

His grin turns sheepish. “I take the fact that you haven’t strangled me yet as a good sign?”

“I’m still debating it. Explain yourself, now.”

His eyes glance to the open doorway behind you. “Can you close the door?”

“I think the nurse will have a problem with that,” You answer.

“Right…” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Look, I just thought it’d be a good way to secure your future, in case anything happens to me. I mean, who’s gonna have it better than The Major’s son, right? Plus it’s not like he isn’t handsome or anything.”

It… Almost makes sense. Almost. You know your brother too well, you know if it was about the money he wouldn’t have concerned himself with getting you married. He’d just take care of you for the rest of his life himself. The two of you were always taking care of each other.

You narrow your eyes, “Bullshit.”

Michael’s eyes glance to the doorway again. “… You’ll be close to The Major, if you marry his son, you know. Really close.” His eyes glance back to you and he raises his eyebrows, and his meaning dawns on you.

You become The Major’s daughter-in-law, you’ll be in close proximity to him. Extended close proximity. Close enough to…

Michael wasn’t trying to ensure your future.

He wants you to kill The Major.

Two years ago, Billy Stebbins won The Long Walk.

You remember watching it, seeing him get sick and thinking he’d die of it. Being both baffled and amazed at how he continued despite it. The shock that came when he ended up winning.

But that was nothing compared to the shock of hearing him say “I want… to have tea with you… As your son…” when The Major asked him for his wish.

You thought maybe he meant it metaphorically, or maybe he meant he wanted The Major to treat him like his son.

But it the days that followed, news spread like wildfire that Billy Stebbins was, in fact, The Major’s son. His bastard.

It became a whole spectacle— The Major reuniting with his son, taking him into his home, even letting him live with him. Instead of disappearing into obscurity like every other past winner of The Long Walk, Billy Stebbins became an icon, another symbol of The Major’s legacy and reign. How kind he was to take in his bastard. How proud he must be of his son. How wonderful it was that The Long Walk brought Billy Stebbins home.

“I bet he has others,” Your twin brother, Michael, had said. “I bet if that one had died instead of winning, he wouldn’t have even bat an eye.”

You knew he was right. If The Major had one bastard, who’s to say he didn’t have more? That wasn’t the kind of thing you could speculate about out loud, though. Not unless you wanted to get Squadded.

So Billy Stebbins got his wish. He got to be The Major’s son, for the whole nation to see. Even if the whispers of “bastard” would follow him forever.

—

You would’ve damn near killed your brother, if he hadn’t left without telling you first.

Like every boy age 18-25, Michael had signed up for the Long Walk every year. His name was never picked from the lottery, to your relief, so you got to keep your brother.

Except this year, the last year he was eligible, his name did get picked, but he didn’t tell you. Not when he got his letter, not even the week before the Walk. No, instead he hit the road one day before the Walk, before you woke up, and left a note for you telling you what was happening.

He did this all the time: Made plans and then didn’t tell you the plans until he was already knee-deep in it. What was worse was when he decided to rope you into these plans, which he would also neglect to tell you until absolutely necessary. You can’t count how many situations you’ve had to drag the two of you out of because of that.

He always thought he knew what was best for you.

It was just after midnight, and you were in some town in Maine. You had caught news that the Walk was down to the final two about an hour ago, and you on the street among throes of people, waiting to see the final two.

One of them had to be Michael. You don’t know what you’d do if it wasn’t him. He was all you had left.

A few people gasped, and the mild chatting that had been going on picks up, and you know the walkers must be in sight now. You stand up from the bench you’d been sitting on and push your way to the front of the crowd, elbowing past a couple people roughly and mentally apologizing to them in your head.

You see them walking down the street, silhouetted in the street lights. One of them is sobbing, by the sounds of it.

They step under the street lights, and you can clearly see them now. Your heart soars as you see one of them is Michael— But he’s looking worse for wear. There are dark circles under his eyes, his face looks gaunt, and when you glance down for a moment you see his shoes are gone and his feet are bleeding. Light glints off his face, and you realize tears are streaming down his cheeks, though the audible sobs are coming from the other Walker.

You start walking to keep pace with them. The crowd is just kind enough to allow you to keep moving, thought the probably think you’re just a hardcore fan. “Michael!”

Michael blinks and turns his head to the side, his eyes taking a second to land on you and focus.

“You’re gonna win, Michael. You’re gonna fucking win!” You yell over the din of the crowd.

For a moment, you don’t think he’s caught your words. But then a tired grin crosses his face, and he lifts two fingers up in a mock salute. His meaning is loud and clear to you, damn right I am.

You grin back, still keeping pace with him. The sobs from the other Walker have started to quiet down.

“Warning, number three! Final warning!” Fear gripped your heart for a moment, but Michael must’ve sensed it, because he grabbed his dogtag and held it up for you to see— Number twenty-one. It wasn’t his warning.

Number three, however, stumbled over his feet and fell flat onto the ground, not even putting his arms out to catch himself as he fell. Michael started to turn to look, and you yelled, “Keep going!”

For once, he listened to you, and kept walking. Just a few seconds later, gun shots rang out, and the crowd erupted in cheers. From the corner of your eye you saw the Major step into the road, raising a gun and shooting number three in the head, though you were sure he was already dead. “And we have our winner— Michael Doe!”

You were too focused on Michael to really look at him. Michael finally stopped walking, a dazed looking coming over his eyes as the crowd roars.

“So, tell me,” The Major said, walking in front of your brother and looking at him through his mirrored aviators. “What’s your wish?”

Michael swallows hard and blinks, swaying on his feet. “I… I want…” He raises his arm, pointing a finger at you. “I want… my sister… to marry your son…”

Before you can comprehend what he’s said, Michael’s legs give out, and he collapses to the ground.

—

Michael never told you what his wish was gonna be.

Had he told you, you would’ve talked him out of it. Because what the fuck?

Paramedics were already on the scene when Michael collapsed, and took him to the hospital right away. They didn’t allow you to ride along (no matter how many times you yelled “I’m his sister!”), so you had to figure out your own way to the hospital. Once there, talking to the front desk was a whole other ordeal, and it took much longer than you liked to convince them that you were in fact related to this year’s winner.

The nurse led you down the halls, cold and sterile, before arriving at an open door and directing you inside.

You stepped in to see your brother in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and various machines.

“You’re lucky,” The nurse said, “Most winners come out much worse.” She turns and walks back down the hall before you can ask her what she means.

You walk over to your brother’s bedside, pulling a nearby chair over and sitting down. All you do for a long moment is just stare at him, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

I want my sister to marry your son.

What the hell was he thinking? What right did he have to make that wish? Were they even going to uphold it? Surely the Major wouldn’t make his son marry a random stranger because someone wished for it?

But it wasn’t just someone. It was the winner of The Long Walk. Had they ever turned down a wish before? Billy Stebbins’ wish didn’t get turned down, and his was pretty outrageous.

Not to mention how… Demeaning it was. Did he think you’d just go along without a word? He didn’t even bother to fucking ask you before making that wish— You didn’t want to marry the Major’s bastard, had he considered that? Had he considered your feelings at all?

The rage, the frustration, all of it was boiling up inside your chest as you stared at him.

“… You’re a fucking idiot,” You whisper.

No response.

“What the hell am I going to do? I can’t fix this fuck-up of yours.”

The heart monitor continues to beep.

“We’re supposed to be a team and you keep pulling bullshit like this! What happens if they won’t let you change your wish, huh? What happens to me?”

His eyelashes don’t even flutter.

“You’re a fucking idiot and I can’t believe you would do this to me!” You’re on your feet now, glaring down at Michael. “You’re a selfish prick and I—”

“Careful, I think the nurse is thinking about kicking you out,” A voice interrupts you, making you realize you were starting to yell. Your head whips around to see someone tall and broad leaning against the open doorway. He’s blonde with a sharp jawline and a familiar face that takes you a second to place.

The Major’s bastard himself. Billy Stebbins.

You blanch a little, suddenly feeling awkward and out-of-place. He chooses to fill the silence with a question, “Are you the sister?”

“Why do you care?” You say, narrowing your eyes at him.

He raises his eyebrows. “Aside from the fact that I’m marrying you?”

Ah. That’s a good point. Instead of answering, you turn your gaze back to your unconscious brother. Denying he was your brother would’ve been a useless endeavor— the two of you look too much alike. Same skin, hair, eyes, and everything. You look like a girl version of him (or perhaps he’s the boy version of you).

“The hospital cafeteria is still open, if you want to go,” Billy Stebbins says. You look back at him, and he’s shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s rather bored. “You look like you could use a meal.”

It’s a jab at your appearance, you just know it. It’s nearing the early hours of the morning and you haven’t slept at all, not to mention the last-minute traveling you’ve been doing the past few days, you definitely look like a wreck. You scowl slightly, and before you can think better of it say “I would, but there’s a fucking jackass standing in the doorway.”

His eyebrows shoot up again, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward, before he steps back and out of the doorway.

You walk out of the room, turning and walking briskly past Billy Stebbins. You only make it a few steps before he says, “Cafeteria’s the other way.” You pause and slowly turn, not hiding the contempt on your face as you walk past him again and towards the cafeteria. To your chagrin, he follows.

“Can I get your name?”

“Doe.”

“I meant your first name, Doe.”

“Why are you here?” You ask once you reach the elevator, clicking the button to go down.

“I wanted to see who it is I’m going to marry,” He replies simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“We’re not getting married, they’ll make him change his wish.”

“That particular wish doesn’t break any of the rules. It’ll hold up.”

You don’t say anything in response to him, staying silent as you enter the elevator, exit to the first floor, and walk all the way to the cafeteria. He follows you like a shadow.

There aren’t exactly many options in the cafeteria, and most look rather unappetizing, but you’d spent too many nights going hungry to complain about food quality. You opted for the cheapest option, an egg salad sandwich, but just as you were rifling through your wallet for change, Billy Stebbins reached an arm around you and handed the cashier a card. The cashier took the card despite your protest, and Billy Stebbins had paid for you, not even sparing you a second glance when he tucked the card back into his own wallet.

Rich bastard. He probably thinks he can buy your affection, or your compliance.

You storm over to an empty table and sit down, glaring at the table top as Billy Stebbins once again follows you and sits down across from you, crossing his arms on the of the table and watching you decimate your sandwich. You were hungrier than you thought, and the need for food overrode the fact that the sandwich tasted terrible.

“You didn’t know that was going to be his wish, did you?” The question catches you off-guard, and you look at Billy Stebbins once more. He’s regarding you with a hard-to-read look, his head tilted to the side slightly in a manner that’s almost endearing.

“What?” You say through a mouthful of egg salad.

“When I heard the wish, I half-expected you to be some fangirl foaming at the mouth to be near me. Not only are you not that, but you seem angry. Ergo, you didn’t know the wish.”

“Aren’t you an observant one, Billy.”

“You can call me Stebbins.”

You look at him for a long moment as you chew the last bite of your sandwich. You swallow and say, “If he had told me that was his wish, I woulda slapped him upside the head for it.”

Stebbins scoffs slightly, but he looks amused. “I can see why he didn’t tell you first.”

“I might still, when he wakes up.”

Stebbins’ eyes glance around for a moment, like he’s looking to see if there’s anyone nearby. It makes you glance around yourself, noticing that the cafeteria is almost empty, save for some soldiers by the entrance— When did they get there? Regardless, they’re still a bit far from you.

Stebbins leans in a little and says in a low voice, “You know, most winners of the Walk die fairly soon afterwards.”

Your eyes widen, and you lower your voice as well without thinking, “No way.”

“It’s true. Most can’t survive for very long after the injuries they sustain from the Walk. And many who do end up killing themselves instead. Why do you think so many fade into obscurity afterwards, never to be heard from again?”

“You’re lying.”

“How many winners do you know off the top of your head? How many can you name that are still in the public eye?”

“There’s you.”

Stebbins smiles, but it’s cold, almost taunting. “I became a public figure. The Major would look bad if he let his son die after winning, wouldn’t he?”

Your mind races, and you realize you can’t name a single winner who stayed in the public eye longer than a celebratory week. Your brow furrows and you feel your stomach turn, though you don’t think it’s from the egg salad being bad. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Your brother was smart with his wish. Make himself an in-law to The Major, and he’ll have to survive at least long enough to attend the wedding. They’ll put in the extra work to make sure he can walk his darling sister down the aisle.”

“That’s if they let the wish stand.”

“They will. They’re already planning the wedding for us.”

Your gaze drops to the tabletop again as the information rolls over in your head. The wish is going to go through. You’re trapped. But in being trapped, you may be saving your brother’s life. Or was he giving you up to save himself? You can’t decide which it is. You don’t think Michael was thinking that part through, if you were being honest.

The chair scraped against the ground as Stebbins stands up. “I’ll see you soon, Doe. The Major will get in touch soon.” You glance up to watch him walk away, and as he walks out of the cafeteria the soldiers who were manning the door turn and follow him out.

—

The lights were still off in Michael’s hospital room when you got back. Because of that, you had assumed he was still unconscious— Until you heard his voice say, “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“Michael—” You scramble to his bedside. He’s still lied down, but his eyes are open and bright despite how shitty he must be feeling, and he grins at you. “I swear, I leave to get food and that’s when you decide to wake up…!”

“Is the food any good?” He asks.

“Not at all.” You decide not to mention Stebbins visiting. At least not yet. “Michael… What the fuck was that wish?”

His grin turns sheepish. “I take the fact that you haven’t strangled me yet as a good sign?”

“I’m still debating it. Explain yourself, now.”

His eyes glance to the open doorway behind you. “Can you close the door?”

“I think the nurse will have a problem with that,” You answer.

“Right…” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Look, I just thought it’d be a good way to secure your future, in case anything happens to me. I mean, who’s gonna have it better than The Major’s son, right? Plus it’s not like he isn’t handsome or anything.”

It… Almost makes sense. Almost. You know your brother too well, you know if it was about the money he wouldn’t have concerned himself with getting you married. He’d just take care of you for the rest of his life himself. The two of you were always taking care of each other.

You narrow your eyes, “Bullshit.”

Michael’s eyes glance to the doorway again. “… You’ll be close to The Major, if you marry his son, you know. Really close.” His eyes glance back to you and he raises his eyebrows, and his meaning dawns on you.

You become The Major’s daughter-in-law, you’ll be in close proximity to him. Extended close proximity. Close enough to…

Michael wasn’t trying to ensure your future.

He wants you to kill The Major.

Two years ago, Billy Stebbins won The Long Walk.

You remember watching it, seeing him get sick and thinking he’d die of it. Being both baffled and amazed at how he continued despite it. The shock that came when he ended up winning.

But that was nothing compared to the shock of hearing him say “I want… to have tea with you… As your son…” when The Major asked him for his wish.

You thought maybe he meant it metaphorically, or maybe he meant he wanted The Major to treat him like his son.

But it the days that followed, news spread like wildfire that Billy Stebbins was, in fact, The Major’s son. His bastard.

It became a whole spectacle— The Major reuniting with his son, taking him into his home, even letting him live with him. Instead of disappearing into obscurity like every other past winner of The Long Walk, Billy Stebbins became an icon, another symbol of The Major’s legacy and reign. How kind he was to take in his bastard. How proud he must be of his son. How wonderful it was that The Long Walk brought Billy Stebbins home.

“I bet he has others,” Your twin brother, Michael, had said. “I bet if that one had died instead of winning, he wouldn’t have even bat an eye.”

You knew he was right. If The Major had one bastard, who’s to say he didn’t have more? That wasn’t the kind of thing you could speculate about out loud, though. Not unless you wanted to get Squadded.

So Billy Stebbins got his wish. He got to be The Major’s son, for the whole nation to see. Even if the whispers of “bastard” would follow him forever.

—

You would’ve damn near killed your brother, if he hadn’t left without telling you first.

Like every boy age 18-25, Michael had signed up for the Long Walk every year. His name was never picked from the lottery, to your relief, so you got to keep your brother.

Except this year, the last year he was eligible, his name did get picked, but he didn’t tell you. Not when he got his letter, not even the week before the Walk. No, instead he hit the road one day before the Walk, before you woke up, and left a note for you telling you what was happening.

He did this all the time: Made plans and then didn’t tell you the plans until he was already knee-deep in it. What was worse was when he decided to rope you into these plans, which he would also neglect to tell you until absolutely necessary. You can’t count how many situations you’ve had to drag the two of you out of because of that.

He always thought he knew what was best for you.

It was just after midnight, and you were in some town in Maine. You had caught news that the Walk was down to the final two about an hour ago, and you on the street among throes of people, waiting to see the final two.

One of them had to be Michael. You don’t know what you’d do if it wasn’t him. He was all you had left.

A few people gasped, and the mild chatting that had been going on picks up, and you know the walkers must be in sight now. You stand up from the bench you’d been sitting on and push your way to the front of the crowd, elbowing past a couple people roughly and mentally apologizing to them in your head.

You see them walking down the street, silhouetted in the street lights. One of them is sobbing, by the sounds of it.

They step under the street lights, and you can clearly see them now. Your heart soars as you see one of them is Michael— But he’s looking worse for wear. There are dark circles under his eyes, his face looks gaunt, and when you glance down for a moment you see his shoes are gone and his feet are bleeding. Light glints off his face, and you realize tears are streaming down his cheeks, though the audible sobs are coming from the other Walker.

You start walking to keep pace with them. The crowd is just kind enough to allow you to keep moving, thought the probably think you’re just a hardcore fan. “Michael!”

Michael blinks and turns his head to the side, his eyes taking a second to land on you and focus.

“You’re gonna win, Michael. You’re gonna fucking win!” You yell over the din of the crowd.

For a moment, you don’t think he’s caught your words. But then a tired grin crosses his face, and he lifts two fingers up in a mock salute. His meaning is loud and clear to you, damn right I am.

You grin back, still keeping pace with him. The sobs from the other Walker have started to quiet down.

“Warning, number three! Final warning!” Fear gripped your heart for a moment, but Michael must’ve sensed it, because he grabbed his dogtag and held it up for you to see— Number twenty-one. It wasn’t his warning.

Number three, however, stumbled over his feet and fell flat onto the ground, not even putting his arms out to catch himself as he fell. Michael started to turn to look, and you yelled, “Keep going!”

For once, he listened to you, and kept walking. Just a few seconds later, gun shots rang out, and the crowd erupted in cheers. From the corner of your eye you saw the Major step into the road, raising a gun and shooting number three in the head, though you were sure he was already dead. “And we have our winner— Michael Doe!”

You were too focused on Michael to really look at him. Michael finally stopped walking, a dazed looking coming over his eyes as the crowd roars.

“So, tell me,” The Major said, walking in front of your brother and looking at him through his mirrored aviators. “What’s your wish?”

Michael swallows hard and blinks, swaying on his feet. “I… I want…” He raises his arm, pointing a finger at you. “I want… my sister… to marry your son…”

Before you can comprehend what he’s said, Michael’s legs give out, and he collapses to the ground.

—

Michael never told you what his wish was gonna be.

Had he told you, you would’ve talked him out of it. Because what the fuck?

Paramedics were already on the scene when Michael collapsed, and took him to the hospital right away. They didn’t allow you to ride along (no matter how many times you yelled “I’m his sister!”), so you had to figure out your own way to the hospital. Once there, talking to the front desk was a whole other ordeal, and it took much longer than you liked to convince them that you were in fact related to this year’s winner.

The nurse led you down the halls, cold and sterile, before arriving at an open door and directing you inside.

You stepped in to see your brother in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and various machines.

“You’re lucky,” The nurse said, “Most winners come out much worse.” She turns and walks back down the hall before you can ask her what she means.

You walk over to your brother’s bedside, pulling a nearby chair over and sitting down. All you do for a long moment is just stare at him, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

I want my sister to marry your son.

What the hell was he thinking? What right did he have to make that wish? Were they even going to uphold it? Surely the Major wouldn’t make his son marry a random stranger because someone wished for it?

But it wasn’t just someone. It was the winner of The Long Walk. Had they ever turned down a wish before? Billy Stebbins’ wish didn’t get turned down, and his was pretty outrageous.

Not to mention how… Demeaning it was. Did he think you’d just go along without a word? He didn’t even bother to fucking ask you before making that wish— You didn’t want to marry the Major’s bastard, had he considered that? Had he considered your feelings at all?

The rage, the frustration, all of it was boiling up inside your chest as you stared at him.

“… You’re a fucking idiot,” You whisper.

No response.

“What the hell am I going to do? I can’t fix this fuck-up of yours.”

The heart monitor continues to beep.

“We’re supposed to be a team and you keep pulling bullshit like this! What happens if they won’t let you change your wish, huh? What happens to me?”

His eyelashes don’t even flutter.

“You’re a fucking idiot and I can’t believe you would do this to me!” You’re on your feet now, glaring down at Michael. “You’re a selfish prick and I—”

“Careful, I think the nurse is thinking about kicking you out,” A voice interrupts you, making you realize you were starting to yell. Your head whips around to see someone tall and broad leaning against the open doorway. He’s blonde with a sharp jawline and a familiar face that takes you a second to place.

The Major’s bastard himself. Billy Stebbins.

You blanch a little, suddenly feeling awkward and out-of-place. He chooses to fill the silence with a question, “Are you the sister?”

“Why do you care?” You say, narrowing your eyes at him.

He raises his eyebrows. “Aside from the fact that I’m marrying you?”

Ah. That’s a good point. Instead of answering, you turn your gaze back to your unconscious brother. Denying he was your brother would’ve been a useless endeavor— the two of you look too much alike. Same skin, hair, eyes, and everything. You look like a girl version of him (or perhaps he’s the boy version of you).

“The hospital cafeteria is still open, if you want to go,” Billy Stebbins says. You look back at him, and he’s shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s rather bored. “You look like you could use a meal.”

It’s a jab at your appearance, you just know it. It’s nearing the early hours of the morning and you haven’t slept at all, not to mention the last-minute traveling you’ve been doing the past few days, you definitely look like a wreck. You scowl slightly, and before you can think better of it say “I would, but there’s a fucking jackass standing in the doorway.”

His eyebrows shoot up again, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward, before he steps back and out of the doorway.

You walk out of the room, turning and walking briskly past Billy Stebbins. You only make it a few steps before he says, “Cafeteria’s the other way.” You pause and slowly turn, not hiding the contempt on your face as you walk past him again and towards the cafeteria. To your chagrin, he follows.

“Can I get your name?”

“Doe.”

“I meant your first name, Doe.”

“Why are you here?” You ask once you reach the elevator, clicking the button to go down.

“I wanted to see who it is I’m going to marry,” He replies simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“We’re not getting married, they’ll make him change his wish.”

“That particular wish doesn’t break any of the rules. It’ll hold up.”

You don’t say anything in response to him, staying silent as you enter the elevator, exit to the first floor, and walk all the way to the cafeteria. He follows you like a shadow.

There aren’t exactly many options in the cafeteria, and most look rather unappetizing, but you’d spent too many nights going hungry to complain about food quality. You opted for the cheapest option, an egg salad sandwich, but just as you were rifling through your wallet for change, Billy Stebbins reached an arm around you and handed the cashier a card. The cashier took the card despite your protest, and Billy Stebbins had paid for you, not even sparing you a second glance when he tucked the card back into his own wallet.

Rich bastard. He probably thinks he can buy your affection, or your compliance.

You storm over to an empty table and sit down, glaring at the table top as Billy Stebbins once again follows you and sits down across from you, crossing his arms on the of the table and watching you decimate your sandwich. You were hungrier than you thought, and the need for food overrode the fact that the sandwich tasted terrible.

“You didn’t know that was going to be his wish, did you?” The question catches you off-guard, and you look at Billy Stebbins once more. He’s regarding you with a hard-to-read look, his head tilted to the side slightly in a manner that’s almost endearing.

“What?” You say through a mouthful of egg salad.

“When I heard the wish, I half-expected you to be some fangirl foaming at the mouth to be near me. Not only are you not that, but you seem angry. Ergo, you didn’t know the wish.”

“Aren’t you an observant one, Billy.”

“You can call me Stebbins.”

You look at him for a long moment as you chew the last bite of your sandwich. You swallow and say, “If he had told me that was his wish, I woulda slapped him upside the head for it.”

Stebbins scoffs slightly, but he looks amused. “I can see why he didn’t tell you first.”

“I might still, when he wakes up.”

Stebbins’ eyes glance around for a moment, like he’s looking to see if there’s anyone nearby. It makes you glance around yourself, noticing that the cafeteria is almost empty, save for some soldiers by the entrance— When did they get there? Regardless, they’re still a bit far from you.

Stebbins leans in a little and says in a low voice, “You know, most winners of the Walk die fairly soon afterwards.”

Your eyes widen, and you lower your voice as well without thinking, “No way.”

“It’s true. Most can’t survive for very long after the injuries they sustain from the Walk. And many who do end up killing themselves instead. Why do you think so many fade into obscurity afterwards, never to be heard from again?”

“You’re lying.”

“How many winners do you know off the top of your head? How many can you name that are still in the public eye?”

“There’s you.”

Stebbins smiles, but it’s cold, almost taunting. “I became a public figure. The Major would look bad if he let his son die after winning, wouldn’t he?”

Your mind races, and you realize you can’t name a single winner who stayed in the public eye longer than a celebratory week. Your brow furrows and you feel your stomach turn, though you don’t think it’s from the egg salad being bad. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Your brother was smart with his wish. Make himself an in-law to The Major, and he’ll have to survive at least long enough to attend the wedding. They’ll put in the extra work to make sure he can walk his darling sister down the aisle.”

“That’s if they let the wish stand.”

“They will. They’re already planning the wedding for us.”

Your gaze drops to the tabletop again as the information rolls over in your head. The wish is going to go through. You’re trapped. But in being trapped, you may be saving your brother’s life. Or was he giving you up to save himself? You can’t decide which it is. You don’t think Michael was thinking that part through, if you were being honest.

The chair scraped against the ground as Stebbins stands up. “I’ll see you soon, Doe. The Major will get in touch soon.” You glance up to watch him walk away, and as he walks out of the cafeteria the soldiers who were manning the door turn and follow him out.

—

The lights were still off in Michael’s hospital room when you got back. Because of that, you had assumed he was still unconscious— Until you heard his voice say, “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“Michael—” You scramble to his bedside. He’s still lied down, but his eyes are open and bright despite how shitty he must be feeling, and he grins at you. “I swear, I leave to get food and that’s when you decide to wake up…!”

“Is the food any good?” He asks.

“Not at all.” You decide not to mention Stebbins visiting. At least not yet. “Michael… What the fuck was that wish?”

His grin turns sheepish. “I take the fact that you haven’t strangled me yet as a good sign?”

“I’m still debating it. Explain yourself, now.”

His eyes glance to the open doorway behind you. “Can you close the door?”

“I think the nurse will have a problem with that,” You answer.

“Right…” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Look, I just thought it’d be a good way to secure your future, in case anything happens to me. I mean, who’s gonna have it better than The Major’s son, right? Plus it’s not like he isn’t handsome or anything.”

It… Almost makes sense. Almost. You know your brother too well, you know if it was about the money he wouldn’t have concerned himself with getting you married. He’d just take care of you for the rest of his life himself. The two of you were always taking care of each other.

You narrow your eyes, “Bullshit.”

Michael’s eyes glance to the doorway again. “… You’ll be close to The Major, if you marry his son, you know. Really close.” His eyes glance back to you and he raises his eyebrows, and his meaning dawns on you.

You become The Major’s daughter-in-law, you’ll be in close proximity to him. Extended close proximity. Close enough to…

Michael wasn’t trying to ensure your future.

He wants you to kill The Major.

She took a deep inhale, before pulling the cigarette away from her lips and blowing out a thin stream of smoke from her mouth, watching it rise into the air.

A knock came from her front door.

Jo muttered a curse to herself, debating for a moment before deciding to just bring the cigarette inside with her. She did her best not to smoke inside, so as not to get sludge and grime on the walls of her already shitty apartment, but it’d be a shame to waste a newly lit cig.

The apartment she lived in was small, but it was close to the base and affordable on her military paycheck. It was either live here, or live in the dorms on base, and Jo decided she wanted some semblance of privacy. So small, shitty apartment it was.

She opened the front door a smidge, keeping the bolt locked, and peeked out to see who it was. At her front door was an older woman, with smooth grey hair pulled in a low bun and wrinkles etching the corners of her eyes and mouth. Jo swiftly undid the bolt and opened the door more as soon as she recognized the woman. “Morning, Lieutenant.”

“Morning, Private,” The woman, Lieutenant Helen Castle, replied, “You have a minute?”

Instead of answering, Jo simply opened the door more to invite her inside.

Castle strode inside and waited for Jo to close the door before speaking again. “Did you see your assignment, yet?”

Jo took a drag from her cigarette before answering, leaning back against a nearby counter and letting smoke flow out of her mouth as she answered, “Assigned to man the Walk. Fourth year in a row.”

Castle nodded. “Must be getting sick of it.”

Jo had been sick of it after the first year. She had been sick of it after the first day. But she needed to be part of the walk— Hell, she needed to be a normal fixture of the walk, if their plans were ever going to work. She stared at Castle for a long moment. “Are they getting suspicious?”

“Of you? Not yet, surprisingly.”

“Then why’re you here?”

Castle regarded Jo for a moment, before answering, “This year’s the year.”

Jo lowered her cigarette, back straightening a little. “… It is?”

“It is,” She confirmed. “Greene is your Sergeant on the Walk this year. He’ll fill you in on the details once you’re there.”

For the first time in a long time, hope sparked in Joelle Hartman’s heart. “How will—”

“You’ll learn more later. Can’t discuss it in-depth now,” Castle cut her off. “Thank you for inviting me inside.” She headed to the front door and let herself out.

The door clicked shut, and Jo stared at it for a long moment, cigarette still burning in her hand.

This year was the year.

If all went well, this would be the final Long Walk.

▼▼▼

It was three hours until the start of The Walk.

None of the Walkers had shown up yet. Jo, for the time being, stood in the check point station, where soon enough a pile of IDs would stack up. All but one to be discarded by the end of The Walk.

The other soldier in the station was a man named Something Charles— Jo had worked with him on The Walk last year, but hadn’t bothered to learn his first name. Didn’t matter, none of the soldiers called each other by their first names anyways, just rank and surname. Charles was sat by a monitor, looking through the information on all the Walkers they should be expecting.

“Make any bets, yet?” Charles asked, glancing at Jo. She simply shook her head— Soldiers weren’t allowed to make bets on The Walkers like the rest of the public could, especially not the ones working directly on The Walk. That didn’t stop some from betting under the table anyways, but Jo never partook herself. It left a bad taste in her mouth. Not that she’d tell Charles this, she knew she’d be wasting her breath if she did.

“I’m still deciding myself. Trying to get a good idea on how long these suckers will last, y’know?” Charles looked back at the screen.

While he was distracted again, Jo thought back to earlier that morning. She’d encountered Sergeant Greene, a man only a few years older than her, with a hard look permanently etched on his face. For a while, Jo wondered if Castle had told her about the wrong guy— Until Greene said the code phrase that let her know he was in on the rebellion plot.

The only part of the plan he told her was the signal, who to shoot when the signal came, and to get as many Walkers off the road as possible when that time came. According to him, that was all the information she needed.

“Holy shit,” Charles suddenly said, “Check out the specs on this guy!”

Jo peered over to read the screen. The Walker’s name wasn’t visible, but according to his chart, he was 24 years old, 6’4”, and 200 lbs. She let out a low whistle, “Which state’s that one from?”

“Texas,” Charles answered, clicking through the file more, “Looks like he passed all the tests with flying colors.”

On paper, that sounded impressive, but by now Jo knew the tests didn’t do much to determine how long a Walker would last. The last three years she had watched dozens of promising young men drop like flies. There was really no way to tell how they’d fare until they started walking.

“What state are you from again?” Charles asked, probably just to make conversation.

“California,” She answered. She didn’t bother asking him where he was from. She glanced back out to the road, where two half-tracks were parked and waiting. “I’ll see you on the road,” She said, opening the door and stepping outside.

Three hours until start.

▼▼▼

One by one, each Walker showed up, gave up their ID, and waited at the starting point.

Jo watched the boys arrive, trying to keep an eye out for any who looked particularly promising. She’d learned from years prior that looks can be deceiving, but this time, she hoped to see who’d last long enough to be saved.

She immediately knew the Texan Walker when he showed up. What with his height, it was hard to miss him, but it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes— Tall, of course, well built, strong jaw, short blond hair.

Jo watched as he handed over his backpack for inspection, then walked to the starting point, glancing around. She assumed he was going to sit on the asphalt, like pretty much every other boy, but instead, he walked to a pine tree on the side of the road and hoisted himself up into its branches.

The odd choice kept her attention, and she found herself periodically glancing over at him as time ticked by.

8 am was slowly approaching. She checked her watch and saw they had another half an hour before The Major would arrive. Before she could think about what she was doing, she reached into one of her pant pockets and pulled out a deck of cards.

She often carried a deck of cards with her, in case she got bored. She even briefly got into cartomancy a few years ago, and still occasionally pulled a card for herself, just to see. She never believed what the cards said anyways.

She pulled a card without shuffling— Jack of Hearts. Some positive outcome. A strong emotional connection, if she’s remembering right. She pushed it back into the deck and tucked it back in her pocket. Her hand hovered over another pocket, where there were two cowrie shell bracelets tucked away. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to have them with her— The cards or the bracelets— But she figured there was no point following that rule anymore.

Glancing at the Texan walker again, she could see that he was now eating a sandwich. Must’ve had it in his backpack. She wondered if someone packed them for him, or if he made them himself.

“Oh yeah, that guy’s definitely gonna last long,” Charles’s voice spoke up. Jo turned her head to see him just arriving.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking IDs?” She asks flatly.

Charles shrugged. “Switched off. I’d rather be out here when The Major arrives anyways.”

Jo kept a straight face, but she wanted to sneer. Seeing The Major was a strong contender for her least favorite part of working on The Long Walk. In her first year she was convinced she was going to shoot him herself before the Walk ended, but Castle had drilled into her how important it was that she didn’t take the vigilante route and assassinate him prematurely. It had to be timed perfectly. Instead, she opted simply to not answer Charles, looking at the variety of Walkers sitting on the road ahead of them.

“Why the hell is that one in a tree?” Charles suddenly asked. She didn’t have to look to know which Walker he was talking about.

“Probably because he wants to be in a tree,” She replied. It wasn’t really meant to be funny, but Charles laughed anyways. She supposes her old sense of humor still pops out every once in a while, as dry as it may be.

“You ready to put this show on the road?” Charles asks, squinting at the road, as if looking for The Major’s jeep.

Jo’s mind mulled over the plan again. “Ready as I can be.”

It was early Saturday morning. Haze hung low in the air as the two Hartman siblings walked to the beach. Danny didn’t have his surfboard with him this time, as the two planned on hitting a coffee shop afterwards, and he didn’t wanna lug the thing around the whole way. Both were in swimsuits and cover-ups, however— The spring air may have been chilly, but that never stopped them from enjoying the ocean water before.

“They won’t give you a bajillion, dumbass. That’s not even a real number.” Joey kicked a rock along the sidewalk, sending it skittering on the pavement ahead of them.

“Yeah, but they’ll give me more than enough,” Danny replied, stretching his arms above his head. Joey didn’t respond to that.

The two of them passed by a storefront, an antique shop whose front window was chock-full of different pieces of old furniture and knick-knacks. One of said furniture pieces was a tarnished mirror, which Joey glanced at out of habit as she and her brother passed, catching glimpses of their reflections. For the most part, the two of them had the same face: their father’s strong nose and long jaw, their mother’s dark eyes and thick brows. Those features were where their similarities ended.

Danny had their mother’s hair and coloration— warm tan skin and shaggy, caramel blond hair, with the slightest bit of wave to it. His appearance reminded Joey of the sun, warm and bright and evoking the sort of surfer dude stereotype their home state was known for.

Joey, on the other hand, was paler and burned in the sun if she wasn’t careful. On top of that, she had a facial birthmark the size of a thumbprint below one of her eyes, an imperfection her father called unsightly whenever he felt like being particularly mean. Her coffee brown hair was long, and swung between wavy and frizzy depending on the humidity. She was tall for a girl, but was an inch or two shorter than Danny, which was to be expected since he was older than her (though only by a few months).

“You don’t think you’ll really win, do you?” Joey asked, quickening her pace to catch up with him.

“Oh, I’ll win,” Danny promised, his smile so bright she almost believed him. “And then I’ll get you away from Dad, and we’ll never see his ugly mug ever again.”

“If that’s what you want, you can just wait a few more months,” Joey pointed out, “When I’m eighteen we can leave and he can’t stop us.” By ‘he can’t stop us’ she really meant ‘he can’t report us as run-aways,’ but she knew Danny would catch her meaning.

“But think about it, Joey. With the cash prize, we could go anywhere we want and do anything we want. We’ll go to San Fran or New York and live like kings!”

It was ridiculous. A pipe dream, if anything. But Danny was so sure of himself, so certain. Joey couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, he had a small chance at winning. Even if it was microscopically small.

▼▼▼

Joey had to remind herself that Danny was gonna win, so it wouldn’t matter that they had stolen their Dad’s car to get to Maine. It was technically Danny’s car at this point anyways.

She was, frankly, exhausted from the drive. The two never pulled over to sleep on the road trip over, and Joey had insisted on doing most of the driving. She had always been the better driver of the two, she said, but she also knew Danny was going to need his sleep for the coming days.

Killing the engine, the two sat in silence for a moment. Just outside was the drop-off point. In two hours, The Long Walk would start, and Danny would have to outlast forty-nine other boys.

There were already a few boys sitting on the road, waiting. Joey had her eyes on them, wondering who’d drop first. Not her brother, she knew that at least.

“You know I’m gonna win, right?” Danny’s voice tore her focus away from the other boys and back to him. He was looking at her with one of his relaxed smiles, like nothing in the world is wrong. Like they hadn’t just driven thousands of miles for him to walk in a death march. Like it was just another walk to the beach.

Her voice caught in her throat, so instead of saying anything, she simply nodded. The attempt to keep a straight face and look fine was failing— Her lip quivered, and her mouth pulled into a frown as tears welled up in her eyes. Danny’s smile wavered, and he reached over and grabbed her hand. “Hey. I’m gonna win.”

She nodded again, wiping her free hand across her face. “I know, I know—” She croaked, voice faltering.

“You’ll see, Joey. You’ll be watching the whole way and I’ll win.”

“Not the whole way,” Joey corrected.

“But you’ll walk along. All those sports are gonna pay off,” Danny joked, earning a slight smile from Joey. “Pick a city, we gotta start thinking of where to move to when I win.”

She sniffled, “… I heard San Francisco’s pretty cool.”

“Course you don’t wanna leave California,” Danny teased, which finally earned a laugh from her.

“It’s far away from Long Beach!” She protested.

“Alright, alright. I win, we pack and move to San Fran. Easy plan.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It is simple. Step one, I walk. Step two, don’t stop. Step three, win.”

“… Okay,” Joey reneged, looking at her brother, who to her looked as bright and brilliant as the sun. He beamed at her— if he had any worries about the days ahead, they didn’t show on his face.

Suddenly, he slipped off his bracelet— A cowrie shell bracelet from the souvenir shop he worked at over the summer— and held it out to Joey. “Wear it, that way you’ll miss me less when we’re apart.”

Joey’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But I already have my own?” She held up her left wrist, which had its own cowrie shell bracelet, identical to his.

“Yeah, but then you’ll have mine with you. It’s okay, you’ll just give it back to me when this is over,” He insisted, still holding out the bracelet to her. For a moment she hesitated, before taking the bracelet and slipping it onto her wrist so that the bracelets were side-by-side.

“You think you’re ready?” She asks.

“Nothing I can’t brace for in two more hours.”

▼▼▼

Just before 8 am, Danny went to go wait on the pavement with the other boys.

Joey sat against the car door, watching him walk off and check in with the soldiers. They looked through his backpack that the two had so carefully packed back in California, and handed it back when they found no weapons or contraband. Danny turned back and gave Jo a thumbs-up and a grin, before going to sit down among the throng of Walkers. She couldn’t help but feel like Danny stuck out a little bit in his Bohemian clothes, his tan shorts and loose top that made him look like he was ready to go to the beach. At the very least, Joey had convinced him out of wearing his sandals, and instead he wore some tube socks and a pair of their father’s work boots, which made his outfit look a little silly.

She gave her brother a small wave, before opening the car door and pulling herself inside. Once she slammed the door shut, she sat for a moment, contemplating her next move.

The first town the Walkers would come through was about ten miles in. Should she wait there? How long would it take for them to walk ten miles? They start walking at 9 am, they walk at three miles per hour, and the town is ten miles away. So they’d reach town at… 12 pm? Something like that? If she were better at math she might be able to figure it out.

She wished she could see the start of the Walk, watch her brother’s send off, but no one was allowed to stay and watch that. Any second a soldier was probably gonna come to her door and tell her to ‘move along’ (just a nicer way to say ‘fuck off’).

Out of habit, she dug through her pocket, first pulling out an unopened pack of cigarettes that she conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell Danny about, then pulling out a worn deck of cards.

A few years ago, Joey went through a short phase where she really, really wanted to get into tarot. It was difficult to find much information on it, and even harder to find a tarot deck. Instead of finding a tarot deck, she and Danny found a book on cartomancy— Or how to do fortune-telling with a deck of playing cards. Joey almost left the book in the thrift store they found it in, but Danny insisted on buying it for her. Since then, every so often she’d pull a card from a deck, just to see what the future held. She didn’t fully believe it, of course, but something about the practice eased her mind.

She pulled out the cards and carefully shuffled them in her hands, before pulling out the card from the top of the deck— The nine of hearts.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember what the nine of hearts meant. Was it something to do with joy? Wishes? If it was wishes that would make sense, since the winner of the Walk gets a wish of their choice.

What was Danny’s wish? Joey had been so focused on the money aspect of winning, she never thought to ask her brother what it was he was going to wish for.

Joy, wishes, that’s what she had to look forward to, if the cards were to be believed.

She tucked the deck back into its package and tossed it into the passenger seat, before turning the key in the ignition.

She took a deep inhale, before pulling the cigarette away from her lips and blowing out a thin stream of smoke from her mouth, watching it rise into the air.

A knock came from her front door.

Jo muttered a curse to herself, debating for a moment before deciding to just bring the cigarette inside with her. She did her best not to smoke inside, so as not to get sludge and grime on the walls of her already shitty apartment, but it’d be a shame to waste a newly lit cig.

The apartment she lived in was small, but it was close to the base and affordable on her military paycheck. It was either live here, or live in the dorms on base, and Jo decided she wanted some semblance of privacy. So small, shitty apartment it was.

She opened the front door a smidge, keeping the bolt locked, and peeked out to see who it was. At her front door was an older woman, with smooth grey hair pulled in a low bun and wrinkles etching the corners of her eyes and mouth. Jo swiftly undid the bolt and opened the door more as soon as she recognized the woman. “Morning, Lieutenant.”

“Morning, Private,” The woman, Lieutenant Helen Castle, replied, “You have a minute?”

Instead of answering, Jo simply opened the door more to invite her inside.

Castle strode inside and waited for Jo to close the door before speaking again. “Did you see your assignment, yet?”

Jo took a drag from her cigarette before answering, leaning back against a nearby counter and letting smoke flow out of her mouth as she answered, “Assigned to man the Walk. Fourth year in a row.”

Castle nodded. “Must be getting sick of it.”

Jo had been sick of it after the first year. She had been sick of it after the first day. But she needed to be part of the walk— Hell, she needed to be a normal fixture of the walk, if their plans were ever going to work. She stared at Castle for a long moment. “Are they getting suspicious?”

“Of you? Not yet, surprisingly.”

“Then why’re you here?”

Castle regarded Jo for a moment, before answering, “This year’s the year.”

Jo lowered her cigarette, back straightening a little. “… It is?”

“It is,” She confirmed. “Greene is your Sergeant on the Walk this year. He’ll fill you in on the details once you’re there.”

For the first time in a long time, hope sparked in Joelle Hartman’s heart. “How will—”

“You’ll learn more later. Can’t discuss it in-depth now,” Castle cut her off. “Thank you for inviting me inside.” She headed to the front door and let herself out.

The door clicked shut, and Jo stared at it for a long moment, cigarette still burning in her hand.

This year was the year.

If all went well, this would be the final Long Walk.

▼▼▼

It was three hours until the start of The Walk.

None of the Walkers had shown up yet. Jo, for the time being, stood in the check point station, where soon enough a pile of IDs would stack up. All but one to be discarded by the end of The Walk.

The other soldier in the station was a man named Something Charles— Jo had worked with him on The Walk last year, but hadn’t bothered to learn his first name. Didn’t matter, none of the soldiers called each other by their first names anyways, just rank and surname. Charles was sat by a monitor, looking through the information on all the Walkers they should be expecting.

“Make any bets, yet?” Charles asked, glancing at Jo. She simply shook her head— Soldiers weren’t allowed to make bets on The Walkers like the rest of the public could, especially not the ones working directly on The Walk. That didn’t stop some from betting under the table anyways, but Jo never partook herself. It left a bad taste in her mouth. Not that she’d tell Charles this, she knew she’d be wasting her breath if she did.

“I’m still deciding myself. Trying to get a good idea on how long these suckers will last, y’know?” Charles looked back at the screen.

While he was distracted again, Jo thought back to earlier that morning. She’d encountered Sergeant Greene, a man only a few years older than her, with a hard look permanently etched on his face. For a while, Jo wondered if Castle had told her about the wrong guy— Until Greene said the code phrase that let her know he was in on the rebellion plot.

The only part of the plan he told her was the signal, who to shoot when the signal came, and to get as many Walkers off the road as possible when that time came. According to him, that was all the information she needed.

“Holy shit,” Charles suddenly said, “Check out the specs on this guy!”

Jo peered over to read the screen. The Walker’s name wasn’t visible, but according to his chart, he was 24 years old, 6’4”, and 200 lbs. She let out a low whistle, “Which state’s that one from?”

“Texas,” Charles answered, clicking through the file more, “Looks like he passed all the tests with flying colors.”

On paper, that sounded impressive, but by now Jo knew the tests didn’t do much to determine how long a Walker would last. The last three years she had watched dozens of promising young men drop like flies. There was really no way to tell how they’d fare until they started walking.

“What state are you from again?” Charles asked, probably just to make conversation.

“California,” She answered. She didn’t bother asking him where he was from. She glanced back out to the road, where two half-tracks were parked and waiting. “I’ll see you on the road,” She said, opening the door and stepping outside.

Three hours until start.

▼▼▼

One by one, each Walker showed up, gave up their ID, and waited at the starting point.

Jo watched the boys arrive, trying to keep an eye out for any who looked particularly promising. She’d learned from years prior that looks can be deceiving, but this time, she hoped to see who’d last long enough to be saved.

She immediately knew the Texan Walker when he showed up. What with his height, it was hard to miss him, but it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes— Tall, of course, well built, strong jaw, short blond hair.

Jo watched as he handed over his backpack for inspection, then walked to the starting point, glancing around. She assumed he was going to sit on the asphalt, like pretty much every other boy, but instead, he walked to a pine tree on the side of the road and hoisted himself up into its branches.

The odd choice kept her attention, and she found herself periodically glancing over at him as time ticked by.

8 am was slowly approaching. She checked her watch and saw they had another half an hour before The Major would arrive. Before she could think about what she was doing, she reached into one of her pant pockets and pulled out a deck of cards.

She often carried a deck of cards with her, in case she got bored. She even briefly got into cartomancy a few years ago, and still occasionally pulled a card for herself, just to see. She never believed what the cards said anyways.

She pulled a card without shuffling— Jack of Hearts. Some positive outcome. A strong emotional connection, if she’s remembering right. She pushed it back into the deck and tucked it back in her pocket. Her hand hovered over another pocket, where there were two cowrie shell bracelets tucked away. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to have them with her— The cards or the bracelets— But she figured there was no point following that rule anymore.

Glancing at the Texan walker again, she could see that he was now eating a sandwich. Must’ve had it in his backpack. She wondered if someone packed them for him, or if he made them himself.

“Oh yeah, that guy’s definitely gonna last long,” Charles’s voice spoke up. Jo turned her head to see him just arriving.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking IDs?” She asks flatly.

Charles shrugged. “Switched off. I’d rather be out here when The Major arrives anyways.”

Jo kept a straight face, but she wanted to sneer. Seeing The Major was a strong contender for her least favorite part of working on The Long Walk. In her first year she was convinced she was going to shoot him herself before the Walk ended, but Castle had drilled into her how important it was that she didn’t take the vigilante route and assassinate him prematurely. It had to be timed perfectly. Instead, she opted simply to not answer Charles, looking at the variety of Walkers sitting on the road ahead of them.

“Why the hell is that one in a tree?” Charles suddenly asked. She didn’t have to look to know which Walker he was talking about.

“Probably because he wants to be in a tree,” She replied. It wasn’t really meant to be funny, but Charles laughed anyways. She supposes her old sense of humor still pops out every once in a while, as dry as it may be.

“You ready to put this show on the road?” Charles asks, squinting at the road, as if looking for The Major’s jeep.

Jo’s mind mulled over the plan again. “Ready as I can be.”

It was early Saturday morning. Haze hung low in the air as the two Hartman siblings walked to the beach. Danny didn’t have his surfboard with him this time, as the two planned on hitting a coffee shop afterwards, and he didn’t wanna lug the thing around the whole way. Both were in swimsuits and cover-ups, however— The spring air may have been chilly, but that never stopped them from enjoying the ocean water before.

“They won’t give you a bajillion, dumbass. That’s not even a real number.” Joey kicked a rock along the sidewalk, sending it skittering on the pavement ahead of them.

“Yeah, but they’ll give me more than enough,” Danny replied, stretching his arms above his head. Joey didn’t respond to that.

The two of them passed by a storefront, an antique shop whose front window was chock-full of different pieces of old furniture and knick-knacks. One of said furniture pieces was a tarnished mirror, which Joey glanced at out of habit as she and her brother passed, catching glimpses of their reflections. For the most part, the two of them had the same face: their father’s strong nose and long jaw, their mother’s dark eyes and thick brows. Those features were where their similarities ended.

Danny had their mother’s hair and coloration— warm tan skin and shaggy, caramel blond hair, with the slightest bit of wave to it. His appearance reminded Joey of the sun, warm and bright and evoking the sort of surfer dude stereotype their home state was known for.

Joey, on the other hand, was paler and burned in the sun if she wasn’t careful. On top of that, she had a facial birthmark the size of a thumbprint below one of her eyes, an imperfection her father called unsightly whenever he felt like being particularly mean. Her coffee brown hair was long, and swung between wavy and frizzy depending on the humidity. She was tall for a girl, but was an inch or two shorter than Danny, which was to be expected since he was older than her (though only by a few months).

“You don’t think you’ll really win, do you?” Joey asked, quickening her pace to catch up with him.

“Oh, I’ll win,” Danny promised, his smile so bright she almost believed him. “And then I’ll get you away from Dad, and we’ll never see his ugly mug ever again.”

“If that’s what you want, you can just wait a few more months,” Joey pointed out, “When I’m eighteen we can leave and he can’t stop us.” By ‘he can’t stop us’ she really meant ‘he can’t report us as run-aways,’ but she knew Danny would catch her meaning.

“But think about it, Joey. With the cash prize, we could go anywhere we want and do anything we want. We’ll go to San Fran or New York and live like kings!”

It was ridiculous. A pipe dream, if anything. But Danny was so sure of himself, so certain. Joey couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, he had a small chance at winning. Even if it was microscopically small.

▼▼▼

Joey had to remind herself that Danny was gonna win, so it wouldn’t matter that they had stolen their Dad’s car to get to Maine. It was technically Danny’s car at this point anyways.

She was, frankly, exhausted from the drive. The two never pulled over to sleep on the road trip over, and Joey had insisted on doing most of the driving. She had always been the better driver of the two, she said, but she also knew Danny was going to need his sleep for the coming days.

Killing the engine, the two sat in silence for a moment. Just outside was the drop-off point. In two hours, The Long Walk would start, and Danny would have to outlast forty-nine other boys.

There were already a few boys sitting on the road, waiting. Joey had her eyes on them, wondering who’d drop first. Not her brother, she knew that at least.

“You know I’m gonna win, right?” Danny’s voice tore her focus away from the other boys and back to him. He was looking at her with one of his relaxed smiles, like nothing in the world is wrong. Like they hadn’t just driven thousands of miles for him to walk in a death march. Like it was just another walk to the beach.

Her voice caught in her throat, so instead of saying anything, she simply nodded. The attempt to keep a straight face and look fine was failing— Her lip quivered, and her mouth pulled into a frown as tears welled up in her eyes. Danny’s smile wavered, and he reached over and grabbed her hand. “Hey. I’m gonna win.”

She nodded again, wiping her free hand across her face. “I know, I know—” She croaked, voice faltering.

“You’ll see, Joey. You’ll be watching the whole way and I’ll win.”

“Not the whole way,” Joey corrected.

“But you’ll walk along. All those sports are gonna pay off,” Danny joked, earning a slight smile from Joey. “Pick a city, we gotta start thinking of where to move to when I win.”

She sniffled, “… I heard San Francisco’s pretty cool.”

“Course you don’t wanna leave California,” Danny teased, which finally earned a laugh from her.

“It’s far away from Long Beach!” She protested.

“Alright, alright. I win, we pack and move to San Fran. Easy plan.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It is simple. Step one, I walk. Step two, don’t stop. Step three, win.”

“… Okay,” Joey reneged, looking at her brother, who to her looked as bright and brilliant as the sun. He beamed at her— if he had any worries about the days ahead, they didn’t show on his face.

Suddenly, he slipped off his bracelet— A cowrie shell bracelet from the souvenir shop he worked at over the summer— and held it out to Joey. “Wear it, that way you’ll miss me less when we’re apart.”

Joey’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But I already have my own?” She held up her left wrist, which had its own cowrie shell bracelet, identical to his.

“Yeah, but then you’ll have mine with you. It’s okay, you’ll just give it back to me when this is over,” He insisted, still holding out the bracelet to her. For a moment she hesitated, before taking the bracelet and slipping it onto her wrist so that the bracelets were side-by-side.

“You think you’re ready?” She asks.

“Nothing I can’t brace for in two more hours.”

▼▼▼

Just before 8 am, Danny went to go wait on the pavement with the other boys.

Joey sat against the car door, watching him walk off and check in with the soldiers. They looked through his backpack that the two had so carefully packed back in California, and handed it back when they found no weapons or contraband. Danny turned back and gave Jo a thumbs-up and a grin, before going to sit down among the throng of Walkers. She couldn’t help but feel like Danny stuck out a little bit in his Bohemian clothes, his tan shorts and loose top that made him look like he was ready to go to the beach. At the very least, Joey had convinced him out of wearing his sandals, and instead he wore some tube socks and a pair of their father’s work boots, which made his outfit look a little silly.

She gave her brother a small wave, before opening the car door and pulling herself inside. Once she slammed the door shut, she sat for a moment, contemplating her next move.

The first town the Walkers would come through was about ten miles in. Should she wait there? How long would it take for them to walk ten miles? They start walking at 9 am, they walk at three miles per hour, and the town is ten miles away. So they’d reach town at… 12 pm? Something like that? If she were better at math she might be able to figure it out.

She wished she could see the start of the Walk, watch her brother’s send off, but no one was allowed to stay and watch that. Any second a soldier was probably gonna come to her door and tell her to ‘move along’ (just a nicer way to say ‘fuck off’).

Out of habit, she dug through her pocket, first pulling out an unopened pack of cigarettes that she conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell Danny about, then pulling out a worn deck of cards.

A few years ago, Joey went through a short phase where she really, really wanted to get into tarot. It was difficult to find much information on it, and even harder to find a tarot deck. Instead of finding a tarot deck, she and Danny found a book on cartomancy— Or how to do fortune-telling with a deck of playing cards. Joey almost left the book in the thrift store they found it in, but Danny insisted on buying it for her. Since then, every so often she’d pull a card from a deck, just to see what the future held. She didn’t fully believe it, of course, but something about the practice eased her mind.

She pulled out the cards and carefully shuffled them in her hands, before pulling out the card from the top of the deck— The nine of hearts.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember what the nine of hearts meant. Was it something to do with joy? Wishes? If it was wishes that would make sense, since the winner of the Walk gets a wish of their choice.

What was Danny’s wish? Joey had been so focused on the money aspect of winning, she never thought to ask her brother what it was he was going to wish for.

Joy, wishes, that’s what she had to look forward to, if the cards were to be believed.

She tucked the deck back into its package and tossed it into the passenger seat, before turning the key in the ignition.