Chapter Text
- Prologue: April 28th -
Marlene POV
Click – the recorder crackles softly: “It’s 5:30 PM on... April 28th. I just finished speaking... More like yelling at our head surgeon. Apparently, there’s no way to extricate the parasite without eliminating the host. Fancy way of saying we gotta kill the fucking kid. And now they’re asking for my go-ahead. The tests just keep getting harder and harder, don’t they? I’m so tired. I’m exhausted and I just want this to end... So be it.”
Marlene stood quietly at Ellie’s bedside; fluorescent lights bore down on the room and cast a pale glow. She knew the truth—cordyceps infected the brain. She’d known it from the start. So why was it suddenly so goddamn hard to look at her?
Why’d I even come in here?
The girl was asleep. She hadn’t stirred since the patrol dragged her in—Joel on his knees, performing CPR like a man possessed. They almost lost her. They’d almost lost their last fucking shot. That’s what Marlene needed to focus on. The light, she tells herself.
Despite her better judgment, her conscious gnaws at her.
Her hand hovers above Ellie’s hospital gown-clad shoulder. She takes in the girls’ appearance. She studied the girl’s bruises, the cracked lips, the rings of purple under her eyes—like a raccoon.
Fucking hell.
She’s a child.
No. A cure, her mind repeated the words like a mantra:
The cure.
That’s why she’d hired Joel and Tess. Not because she couldn’t make the journey herself—but ... because she knew she’d get attached. She was Anna’s kid—how could she not?
When so much of who Ellie was... was Anna.
And now here she is... here it is:
The cure.
Part of her hoped she’d never actually have to face this. That something—anything—would’ve stopped them along the way.
—They’d taken so long to get here.
Ellie stirred in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Caught up someplace in her mind, not safe, asleep, in a bed...
Sure. She scoffed. Safe.
Ellie’s face scrunched up—like she was in pain. Then—she cried out. Something—
Marlene acted on instinct, leaning in to rouse her. Ellie gasped awake with a sharp intake of breath, as if she’d just broken the surface of deep water. Her eyes darted around, wild—afraid.
—At least she’d never feel fear again.
“Joel!” Ellie’s voice cracked. She thrashed, blindly striking at Marlene’s hands as she tried to sit up. “Jesus Christ—where the—get the fuck off me!”
Marlene holds onto either of her shoulders now with a strong grip—taken aback at how small those shoulders are.
She grappled with Marlene, hitting blindly. “Who—where—“
“Hey, shhh. It’s okay. You’re safe, Ellie—you made it. It’s me. Marlene.”
—She wasn’t supposed to wake up.
I should never have come in here.
Their eyes lock. Ellie stilled, her brow tucked in confusion. She scanned the room again—searching. “Is—Is Joel okay? He—he almost drowned—fuck, did he—? He was in a bus—in the water. A fucking bus. I—I tried to get the door. To open it, but it—” she choked on the words. “Is. He. Okay?”
—...She’s just a kid.
“Marlene...” Ellie’s voice, thin and reedy, pleaded.
Marlene snapped her hands back. Away from the girl—the specimen, the asset.
“He’s fine,” she said quietly. “Resting. In another room.”
Ellie let out a shaky laugh—or maybe a sob. “Good. That’s... that’s real good.” Her voice didn’t sound so hollow now.
“Ellie, what happened?” Marlene asked. She can’t stop looking at those green—Anna’s eyes…sparkling with life—
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t look.
Failed that...
“I lost everything I had getting here—Joel didn’t even know where here was. How the hell did you survive that?”
Ellie gave a soft hum. A ghost of a smile flickered across her face.
“Dumbass nearly died, like, twice. Scratch that—easily three times now. Guess you guys saved him this time.” She smirked. “I saved him the last two—he wasn’t happy about the first one... but he’s just some old dumbass in need of saving. So, he forgave me.”
A heavy silence settled between them. Until Ellie broke it: “...Marlene? He saved me too, you know? After Boston... after Riley—”
Marlene’s defenses crumbled the second Ellie’s voice cracked. Tears slipped down the girl’s freckled cheeks, and before she realized it, Marlene had clasped her hand.
—She looked... so much. So much like Anna.
She couldn’t meet her eyes. Wouldn’t. Forced herself not to.
“After Riley, I was as good as dead. And this—” Ellie thrust out her arm, baring the bite scar, glaring down at it. “This was the only thing that meant something. And, when I didn’t die,” her face scrunched up. “At least—at least my life had meaning.”
Marlene had no words.
“You gave me that,” Ellie said, barely a whisper. “A reason to fight.”
The quiet intensity of her statement filled the space between them.
Marlene still couldn’t meet her gaze. Her eyes were locked on the bite—the scar, the symbol, the cure. She nodded stiffly. “I know, El. I know. I remember...”
Ellie laughed, softer now. “Joel helped me find a reason too...” Her smile was fragile, but real. “Of all people, right? He got me here. He was hell-bent on getting me here—” she kept going, words tumbling out, riding the momentum of everything they’d been through. She spoke in fragments, half-finished stories, overwhelming details. Until she coughed and broke off.
Marlene, silent, offered a cup of water. Desperately wills herself to keep a steady hand.
She knew who — what — Joel was. Knew Tommy grew to fear him—hate him, even. It was Joel; he drove Tommy away from Boston. Knew why Joel was what he was. And, from the start, she knew Tommy would’ve had her head for saddling his brother with a fourteen-year-old girl...
Especially if he knew why the Fireflies needed her.
“He was just surviving,” Ellie muttered, catching her breath. “Going through the motions. But now I think... I think we both want to live. I’m not so scared anymore.”
There was an unsettling certainty in her voice.
Joel Miller... the man who scared off his own fucking brother... made this girl want to live.
She remembers how Tommy used to defend him... until he didn’t—remembers why he stopped too. Yet—everything the kid in front of her was saying... was layered with ... something Marlene didn’t even have words for. Or, perhaps she did—as she sees Anna in her. Perhaps she understood too well.
She wished she didn’t.
Ellie gulped the water—too enthusiastically. It spilled down her chin, the front of the gown. She frowned at her own clumsiness and let Marlene take the cup.
The door to the room opened with a hiss and shut with a muffled thump. Ellie looked past Marlene to the young woman who had just walked in. A medical aid, only a couple of years older than Ellie, stood observing Marlene. She held a silver tray and a syringe. Marlene watched Ellie’s frown turn from confusion to caution
“This is Nora,” Marlene acknowledged. Her voice was cool again, her posture shifted, as if slipping back into an armoured vest—rigidity drew her shoulders, cinched at her ribs. “They’re ready?”
Nora nodded. Marlene mirrored her. She drew her hand away from Ellie’s and stood. “It’s good you made it, Ellie. You’re going to save us all.” She might be saying that for herself, more than Ellie. It was her—after all, that needed reminding. “The doctors need to run some tests—Nora will give you something to keep you comfortable. You won’t feel a thing. I promise.”
Ellie doesn’t respond. Just stares at her, with those wide eyes; Anna’s eyes.
Marlene draws a measured breath. “I just ... I wanted to see you first... I’m—,” she cuts herself off—stops herself from lying, from saying she’s glad she did. She’s not. She glances at Nora before speaking again: “Your mom would be proud.”
Ellie shifted, her expression studying as she nodded, “Oh... Okay. Got it.”
Marlene turned to leave, drawn back by Ellie’s quick voice: “Oh—wait!” She pushed herself up; the bedding under her creaked with the gesture. Sat tall, she’s closer to Marlene’s eye level. “While they run their tests, can you tell Joel he owes me a song? I made him promise—once you all finish your tests, he has to!”
“Who knew an old ‘smuggler’ with an attitude could sing?” Ellie chuckled, tugging at the hem of her hospital gown. “Well—at least... he claims he can.”
Marlene didn’t answer. She stood frozen in the doorway, backlit and unmoving. Ellie’s words felt impossibly distant. Her humour felt like a punch to the chest.
—Why the hell did I come in here?
Her gaze remained fixed on the child—Anna’s child. A hollow ache bloomed in her chest.
Fuck.
- Ellie POV -
Nora glanced between them, unsure.
Ellie ignored her. Picked at the IV taped to the crook of her elbow. It tugged at her skin, puckered around the needle embedded into flesh. She broke her own silence with a rattled breath—air still felt... rough as it dragged down her throat. “Shit—,” she garbled her own words. “I guess I’ve gotta learn to swim after this. Once you do all your funky save-the-world mojo. Crap!” Her lip cracked against the smile that tugged. ““Ellie Williams, savior of humanity—man, that’s fucking crazy. Pft—nah. First thing? I’m making him teach me guitar. Swimming can wait. I don’t wanna go near water for a while... not after that.”
Her voice trailed off as Nora injected something into her IV. She watched it ooze into her, through the thin clear tube before two other nurses buzzed into the room. Ellie’s confidence wilted under the sudden weight of sedation. Her gaze flicked to where Marlene had stood—but she was already gone. A sinking—unsettled—familiarity wrapped deep in her chest.
“Hasta la fuckin’ vista,” Ellie mumbled, her voice slurred at the edges, as the room began to spin.
Her eyelids fluttered. She tries her best to ignore the clawing weight inside her, cinching around her ribs. The sensation feels all-consuming as exhaustion begins to take hold.
She tries to ask for Joel. But—her words don’t even make sense to her anymore. So—she’s sure they don’t hear.
—He’s okay. I’m okay. Just some stupid tests, and then—boom—new life everybody!
Darkness pulled her under.
- Marlene POV -
Click—the recorder crackled with empty air, the white noise broke the suffocating silence of the dark office. Marlene exhaled softly, just loud enough to be picked up on the tape.
“Hey Anna... It’s been a while since we spoke. I uh... I just gave the go-ahead to proceed with the surgery. I really doubt I had much of a choice, asking me was... more of a formality. I need you to know that I’ve kept my promise all these years... despite everything that I was in charge of, I looked after her. I would’ve done anything for her, and at times... - Here’s a chance to save us... all of us. This is what we were after... what you were after.”
A beat of silence. The recorder picks up only static now.
Marlene leans against the dilapidated desk. Upstairs, Ellie is undergoing surgical prep; down the hall, an unconscious and unsuspecting smuggler lies in a secured room. She’d told Dr. Anderson she’d speak with Joel, but after seeing Ellie—
“They asked me to kill the smuggler. But... fuck. I’m not about to kill the one man in this facility that might understand the weight of this choice. Maybe he can forgive me. Oh, I miss you, Anna. If the doc gets his way then your daughter will be with you soon...”
Maybe it was for the best that Abby interrupted her and Jerry Anderson’s conversation—yelling match? She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes shut tight. She’d been close to losing it in there.
But he never really answered her question:
—What if it was Abby?
Click. The recorder shuts off, and the white noise dies with it.
Fuck it.
Marlene strode down the ill-lit hallway.
“Move.”
She barked the order at the armed guard standing post.
“The prisoner is to remain under strict guard with armed personnel until Dr. Anderson and his surgical team finish the procedure. No exceptions.”
“Who the fuck do you think gives those orders? Step. Aside.” Her eyes were steel. There was no room to challenge her authority. The guard stiffened, then stepped out of her way.
She turned toward him before entering.
“Kieran. I’ve got a new assignment for you. Ethan and I will watch the prisoner. Get Abby Anderson and her unit out of the building. They might be soldiers, but they’re just kids—they don’t need to be privy to what’s going to happen today.”
She softened—barely. “You know Abby as well as I do. She’ll want to be in that room if she's not on assignment. I don’t need any unexpected interruptions.”
Kieran nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m on it.”
“Good. Relay the order: They’re to keep the perimeter tunnels the smuggler came through clear. That was a shit-ton of noise they brought in, and it’ll bring more than infected down on us. We can’t have that. Not today.”
- Joel POV -
Joel woke violently; her name tore from him before he’d even realized his surroundin’.
“—Ellie!”
A shape—a man, a threat—stepped forward in his periphery.
Instinct took hold, as he prepared—even disoriented—to kill.
But, beside him, a familiar voice cut in, halted them both: “Easy, easy, Joel—it’s okay.” Joel’s gaze cut to see Marlene seated in a chair, signalling the guard to stand down. “Ellie’s fine. She’s with the doctors.”
—With the doctors, it echoed, like a goddamn nail-bomb in his skull.
“I lost half my crew crossing the country,” Marlene continued. He only half-heard. “We’re a skeleton of what our organization used to be. And then you show up—and somehow, we find you just in time to save her?”
Joel stifled a groan as he shifted to sit on the—
Hospital bed. So, they’d made it. St. Mary’s. He muttered somethin’ that sounded a whole lot like, ‘Was in the middle of savin’ her till your boys knocked me out.’
He cleared his throat, fixed a sharp glance at the guard, and then looked to Marlene.
“It was her,” he said. “She fought like hell to get here. Maybe it was meant to be…”
He scanned the room—no pack. His eyes locked on two exits: one behind the guard, one behind Marlene.
“Take me to her.” He moved to rise; his boots thunked against the linoleum.
Marlene leaned forward and placed a steady hand on his shoulder before he could stand. “You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”
His hazel eyes met hers immediately.
“I worry,” he said, voice stern but imploring. Weary. “Please... just let me see her.”
Her sigh was almost inaudible as her hand slipped away from his shoulder. She keeps his gaze.
“You can’t.”
That caught him off guard. Suspicion overtook his expression in an instant.
“She’s being prepped for surgery,” she said it dismissively. As if it were enough.
Fire sparked in his eyes. His brow tightened. Marlene leaned back, added space between them.
“The hell you mean?” He demanded. “Surgery?”
Brown eyes flicked briefly between the guard and Joel. She hesitated. Just for a moment.
“The doctors tell me the growth inside her has somehow mutated. It’s why she’s immune.” She let the weight of her words settle. “Once they remove it, they’ll be able to reverse-engineer a vaccine. A vaccine, Joel.”
Her tone faltered—sounded more like she was tryin’ to sell herself the lie than him.
Joel doesn’t miss a beat. His tone immediately hostile. His Texan drawl warped into a growl: “But it grows all over the brain.”
“It does.”
The words “Find someone else” are ripped from his throat. Guttural and corrosive.
“There is no one else,” Marlene snapped, sharp and dismissive. Her eyes flash.
Joel shoved off the hospital bed toward her, cold fury cut his expression. “Listen, you’re gonna show me where—ugh!”
—The guard struck him in the leg, sent him to the floor. Joel landed face-first, a grunt torn from him as he felt the cold press of a pistol aimed at his back.
“Stop,” Marlene ordered. The pressure, between his shoulders, released as the guard stepped back, didn’t holster the weapon; still half raised and aimed.
Joel pushed himself up to a knee, eyes never leavin’ hers.
“I get it,” Marlene said quietly. “But whatever it is you think you’re going through right now... It’s nothing compared to what I’ve been through. I knew her since she was born. I promised her mother I’d look after her—”
Joel’s voice cut through, a snarl. “Then why the hell are you lettin’ this happen?”
She’s lost for a moment—it’s written all over her. As she stared down at him. Her lips pressed to thin line. For a second—just a second—he saw the guilt break through. She shook her head, sighed. “Because this isn’t about me. Or even her. There is no other choice here. I can’t change this.”
Joel stared at her, disgust in his voice. “Yeah. You keep tellin’ yourself that bullshit.”
“I’m done, Joel.” She looked to the guard. “Ethan, march him out of here. If he tries anything, shoot him.”
Her darkened gaze met his one last time.
“Don’t waste this gift.”
Then she turned and left the room.
Joel sits on the ground as Ethan stands over him.
“Get up,” he snaps. His sight set on Joel. “I said get up.”
Joel rose. Numb.
I can’t change this, Marlene had said. I can’t. Joel lets out a low growl. Ignores the way it coils the guard’s grip on his pistol.
Maybe you can’t, Marlene... but I sure as hell can.
“Go on. Move,” Ethan’s behind him now, pushin’ him forward. “Just give me one damn excuse. It’s all I need.”
Yeah, Joel thinks, that’s all I need too.
“Which way?” he asks stiffly.
Ethan gestures left.
Joel marched ahead, hyper-aware of the chambered round aimed at his back. As they move down the dim hallway, Joel spots his worn pack; sat atop the counter of an abandoned nurse’s station.
He slows. Boots thudded to a halt.
“The fuck are you doing? Keep walking,” Ethan snarls, jamming the barrel into Joel’s spine. “I said keep—”
Damn fool.
Joel moves. Fast.
He slams his elbow into Ethan’s arm, knocks the shot wide. The pistol cracks—misses. Joel spins, grabbin’ Ethan by the shirtfront, slammin’ him against the wall. One hand twists the pistol free, the other crushes into Ethan’s throat.
He viciously pistol-whips Ethan in the face. The man’s stunned—gone cross-eyed.
With the barrel now shoved into his gut. Joel’s voice is a low snarl: “Now, I’m only gonna ask this once: Where’s the operatin’ room?” Ethan stays quiet, mouth drawn in a tight line, color drained from his face. “I ain’t got time for this.”
—He fires. The gunshot is deafenin’.
Ethan gasps, hands dropped from Joel’s forearm, to clutch blindly at the wound in his stomach.
“Where?” Joel growls.
Ethan chokes—strugglin’ through pained grunts. Blood trickles from his nose. “Top... top floor. Far end.”
Joel pulls back. Ethan slumps to his knees, hand pressed tight at his wound.
“Wasn’t so hard was it,” Joel mutters. He fired again. Ethan drops like a sack of bricks, his head jerked back as brain matter spatters the wall. Blood pools beneath him, thick and spreadin’.
Joel holsters the pistol, grabs his pack, and slings it over his shoulders.
Footsteps echo from the far end of the hallway. Shouts follow.
“Gunshots! Search the floor!”
Joel ducked into the nearest medical room, crouched behind a bed. He checks his ammo and reloads any he can—they’d used so much on their way through the tunnels. His hands are steady, practiced.
Flashlights sweep the hall. They’re closin’ in.
He works his way across the emergency wing, into an adjacent lab, hopin’ to circle 'round—but it’s a dead end. Just broken windows and one door in the back. Windows that lead directly to the hall the guards were searchin’.
Shit.
He glanced back at the door.
—Here’s hopin’ that leads outta here.
The door was easy to reach, but it was jammed. He shoulders the jammed door, then remembers the shivs in his pack. He shimmed one in and forced the door open—
A closet
—how fuckin’ stupid.
The swingin' door hits a mop. It teeters. Supplies topple over, crashin’ to the floor.
—Fuck
“In there!” a guard yells. Footsteps thunder closer.
Joel moves. Vaults through the broken window and into the hall—the glass embeds deeply into the palm of his hand. He suppresses a grunt, pushin’ forward. A few quiet strides, and he picks up a steady pace. His footfalls barely disturb the quiet of the hall, as he follows the corridor signs for a stairwell.
At the end, a battered vending machine and a few piled crates offer cover. He ducks behind the old, peeled and chipped machine. His breath caught in his throat.
The hall bends around a corner, toward what would be the stairwell: blocked, chained and barricaded.
Dead end.
—He curses.
Heavy, measured footsteps announced the presence of guards—two, he thinks. Joel presses his back to the machine. No more runnin’. One chance.
He doesn’t have the ammo. The thought settles heavily in his gut. He shakes his head. Puffin’ out a breath—
Strike quick.
Surprise ‘em.
Take their weapons.
The beams of their flashlights cut through the darkness, revealin’ discoloured walls.
—any second now.
He needed to conserve any ammo he could. Needed to try and take these two out quietly. If he managed the shots on these two…there’d be more—whole damn place would come down on him faster than he’d be able to reach Ellie.
Joel flips his pistol in his hand, grip reversed.
—Breathe.
The pistol is turned into a makeshift bludgeon.
Two paces out.
He bursts from cover. His pistol whips across the nearest guard with a vicious downward strike that connects with the crown of his head. The man crumples instantly. His rifle clatters to the floor.
The blow echoes in the hall.
The metallic tang of blood fills the air.
Joel lunges at the second man—too slow.
—Hadn’t judged the distance between ‘em right. Too far.
The guard raises his weapon. Joel crashes into him, drivin’ them both into the wall with a loud clamour.
With a grunt, the guard used the wall to brace himself, fightin’ for the upper hand. Joel stumbles backward—the guy’s younger and stronger. He feels when his foot doesn’t catch. Before the lurch. With a sickenin’ tilt, he falls to the floor, takin’ the guard with him.
Joel’s knuckles are white, his hands sweaty as he grips the rifle, shovin’ it up. The guard twists and slams the butt into Joel’s face.
Pain explodes across Joel’s jaw. His lip splits. Blood fills his mouth.
The rifle lowers toward him.
The pain stunned him. His grip slips.—This is it, he thinks, starin’ down the barrel. I’m sorry, Ellie.
Suddenly, a sharp crack connects with the guard’s head. The body of the man who would have killed him drops unceremoniously down, the rifle gone limp in his hand.
Joel blinks and huffs out a breath as he pushes the man’s weight off. He rises, slow, to his feet. His jaw throbs. His head pounds. Muscles shake.
He dismisses it all quick.
No time.
Marlene stands in the ill-lit hall, a military-grade rifle in her hands.
Joel stares. “What happened to shoot if he does anythin’,” he rasps.
Marlene gives him a once-over, one brow raised. She exhales. “I made a promise to her mother.” She nods toward the fallen guard. “I figured you’d manage on your own. Obviously, Ellie was right—you are a dumbass in need of saving.”
Joel doesn’t answer.
Marlene cut him a pointed look. “You helping me, or are you planning to sit around and join these two for a nap?”
Joel wipes the blood from his mouth. “Lead the way.”
The two move silently up through the second floor, then the third, where they’re forced to cut across the hospital to the next unblocked stairwell. With Marlene’s help, they make quick progress, slippin’ through unmanned sections with ease. It isn’t until they near the neurology wing on the third floor that they hit resistance—a group of eight guards in riot gear blocked access to the upper level.
Joel’s adrenaline surges. He glances at his broken watch, momentarily lost in thought.
—Not again. Never.
Marlene tapped his shoulder, pulled him back. She’s tense—time’s runnin’ out.
“I’ll draw them off,” she says in a low voice. “You head up the stairs and follow the signs to the cardiology department—you can’t miss it. That’ll lead you around to the operating room. Straight shot from the back end,” she adds, nodding. “There shouldn’t be any more guards. We didn’t post anyone near the OR—we didn’t want to alarm Ellie.”
Joel’s mouth twists into a grimace, lips flattened to a hard line. “Does she know?” he asks, voice barely audible.
Marlene shakes her head. Joel nods once, jaw tight.
“Bastards,” he mutters, the word bitter. Ellie hadn’t been given a choice. Maybe she would’ve agreed if they’d asked. But that don’t change what he has to do—he’d be doin’ this, even if she’d been givin’ the choice.
—Her not knowin’… maybe that’ll make what comes next easier.
“She doesn’t,” Marlene confirms, voice heavy. “They asked for my consent, but it wasn’t really a choice. She wouldn’t have had one either. That’s why there are no guards. Too many questions. That’s why they wouldn’t let her see you first.”
“She’d’ve done it,” Joel snaps. Tastes like ash in his mouth.
—He knows she would’ve. Because he sees it, in her: The want for an end. When she thinks he hadn’t seen or hadn’t noticed. When she doesn’t even notice ... And, what a clean fuckin’ end this would be, for anyone wantin’...
Marlene shakes her head, her silhouette caught in dim shadow. “She’s too young. Her… her life isn’t something she owes the world. And survivor’s guilt? She carried that before. Still does. Joel—Jerry Anderson is our chief surgeon. He’s going to fight you. I’ll try to stop him, but if I don’t—do whatever you have to.”
Before Joel can respond, Marlene slips from cover and approaches the guards. She moves with authority. As the Queen of the Fireflies spoke, the guards snapped to attention: “The smuggler’s been sighted on the second floor of the west wing—we need reinforcements!”
At the order, the guards move. She follows behind.
On the top floor, Joel navigates the cardiology wing. It proved to be a convoluted path — straight shoot my ass — but as Marlene promised, there are no guards.
—Hold on, kiddo. I’m comin’.
The operatin’ room glowed faintly at the end of a long hall. A lone light hung over the red door. A stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded Joel.
Through the fogged window, he sees figures movin’ inside.
—Caution be damned.
Joel sprints. The cold metal doorknob bites against his palm. The hinge opens silently. He pushes through into a brightly lit prep room, sterile and buzzin’ with fluorescent light. The sharp tang of antiseptic hits his nose.
Voices filter through the next door:
“Marlene,” a man says, insistent. “There’s no other way—you were the one who set this in motion!”
—She’d beat him here—somehow.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she answers, voice stiff.
“It’s the only thing that matters!”
Joel recognizes the desperation. The surgeon.
“You’re a goddamn doctor, Jerry. You took an oath to do no harm.”
“The greater good is what matters. Not some promise I made over twenty years ago. You think the old rules apply?”
“You never answered. If it were your kid, would you really take her life so easily?”
—It gives pause. Joel’s pulse kicks.
“I…—” the surgeon doesn’t immediately answer. Joel hears Marlene sigh, heavy, before: “Yes.”
That stops Joel cold.
He throws the door open and steps into the OR, gun raised. Quickly scannin’ for the threats. Joel’s gaze lands on Ellie, unconscious and prostrate on the cold, metallic surface of an operatin’ table. She looks small. Arms limp at her sides. Face slack—almost ... dead-lookin’.
Two medics flinch near the far wall. A young woman in blue scrubs stands directly ahead of him, half-turned—she can’t be more than a few years older than Ellie.
—I ain’t killin’ kids.
Joel moves fast. He grabs the girl, knocks her out with the butt of his pistol, and lowers her to the ground. The others scream, backpedalin’ in fear. Trays and instruments crash around the commotion. He ignores them.
Marlene stiffens, back half-turned to the surgeon. The surgeon, Jerry, seizes the moment—scrambles to the instruments at his side; snaps up a scalpel. Amidst the commotion, he seizes Marlene. She struggles for her gun but hisses as the blade cuts her throat. Dragged just enough to nip her neck.
She hisses, blood blooms.
—Jerry’s action ain’t just performance.
Marlene raises her hands in surrender, concedes defeat.
The two remainin’ medics curse and cower across the room—as far as they can get from Joel, Marlene and Jerry.
“Stand back!” Jerry demands. His blue eyes were wide. “Do you have any idea what we’re on the edge of? I can save humanity. I will—”
“Shut up.” Joel’s voice is low and lethal. His sight doesn’t waver. “Long as I breathe, you ain’t layin’ a goddamn finger on her.”
The other two medics go silent.
“I’ll kill Marlene,” Jerry hissed, pressin’ the blade deeper.
Marlene closes her eyes. Resigned — picture of acceptance.
Before Joel could respond, Jerry nodded to Ellie, unconscious and still. The rhythm of the monitors ticked away. “She won’t last long out there,” Jerry says, voice shudderin' through clenched teeth. “She’s weak. She’ll die weak. Her life means nothing without me. Don’t take that from her.”
“Jerry,” Marlene pleaded, hands still raised: “You don’t know her.”
The scalpel bites deeper. She grimaces.
“You take her—and, what? How long before she’s torn to pieces by a pack of Clickers? That is, if she hasn’t been raped first.”
Joel sees red. Jerry’s words and his threats of a bitter life aren’t unheard.
David tried. Ellie had shared as much—eventually. Joel knows what men are capable of. But this goddamn man ahead of him—this surgeon had no idea who he was talkin’ about. What Ellie was capable of.
“Jesus, Jerry,” Marlene exhaled—sharp, her words barbed. “Rape isn’t new to this world. Ask any woman who lived before. For fuck sake—she’d rather a chance at life than die because of what could—”
The scalpel cut her off. She chokes on her words.
With a snarl at his lip, Joel steps forward: “None o’ this is yours to decide.”
“If we don’t start the surgery now, the unmonitored anesthesia will kill her,” Jerry hisses. “You’ll fail her—and humanity.”
“Joel,” Marlene rasps, steely eyes locked on his. “She can never know.”
—Her words land like a weight in the room. She nods, jagged, her attention riveted to the pistol in Joel’s hand. He understands. There’s only one way out.
He has to shoot Marlene, to shoot the Surgeon.
To end this.
“He won’t shoot you,” Jerry scoffed, clutchin’ to Marlene like a human shield.
—He’s wrong.
The gunshot is deafenin’, in the small room—the second shot, just as much.
The air was thick with gunpowder.
Marlene hits the floor.
Then Jerry.
Panic seized those blue eyes as he dropped Marlene and stumbled; his hand flew to the deep wound in his chest. A crimson stain bloomed across his white coat as he gasped. The floor quickly became thick with both of their blood.
He slips in the dark pool, scrambles backwards—slick hands slap against the tile.
The scalpel lies forgotten.
With no hesitation, Joel takes aim at the two cowerin’—beggin’—medics and pulls the trigger—once for each of them.
The feel of the gun’s recoil vibrated up his hand, into his shoulder.
A thick trail of blood marks Jerry’s desperate crawl toward the surgical cart near Ellie, his wet hands slip on the floor with each pull.
“P — Please,” Jerry gurgled, blood bubbled in his throat—trailed from his lips. “I — have — a daughter...”
“Yeah. So do I.” Joel’s boot slams into his chest, rollin’ him onto his back. He towers over him. “And you’d just keep comin’ after her.”
BANG.
The final shot reverberates in the small room, through the surgeon’s skull.
Blood sprays across the floor—a mist dusts across legs and boots.
Joel moves fast, but carefully, as he pulls the monitor wires and IV from Ellie. Her skin is cold. The beepin’ stops. His hands shake. “C’mon, baby girl,” he murmurs, liftin’ her into his arms. “I’ve got you.”
Down the hallway, flashlights cut through the dim. Voices rise in panic.
Joel runs. Ellie, limp against him. His heart jumps into his throat as he hears the guards approach; their voices echo throughout the hospital.
He’s runnin’, chaos and screams swirl behind him. His boots thunder down the stairwell. The rusty door to the garage looms ahead. He throws it open. Metal screamed like a warnin’ shot behind him as he carried her into the dark.