Jackson

by Anonymous

Summary:

Ellie and Joel arrive in Jackson and begin building a new life in the quiet, fortified town.

Chapter 1: Welcome To Jackson

Ellie groaned, a deep, guttural sound of discomfort, as she stirred from the thick fog of sedation. Her eyelids fluttered, the harsh daylight slicing through the remnants of her drug-induced sleep. Her body felt foreign—heavy, sluggish, like she was wading through molasses. Every muscle ached, her limbs unwilling to cooperate as she tried to gather her bearings.

Her vision wavered before sharpening, bringing the unfamiliar fabric draped over her into focus. A dressing gown—cheap, scratchy, and offensively floral, clinging to her like a bad memory. Confusion twisted her features into a scowl.

"What the hell am I wearing?" she muttered, her voice hoarse, barely more than a breath of disbelief. Her fingers weakly grasped the material, as if peeling it away would somehow explain how she had ended up in it. This wasn’t hers. This wasn’t what she’d last been wearing.

From the front seat, Joel’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable—cool, but guarded, as if he had braced himself for this moment. The steady hum of the tires on asphalt filled the space between them.

"Just take it easy, Ellie. The drugs are still wearing off," he said, his voice a low, measured drawl. There was something in his tone—something more than concern. Fatigue, maybe. Or hesitation.

Ellie frowned, her foggy mind scrambling to put the pieces together. Her pulse picked up, a flicker of unease curling in her gut.

"What happened?" she asked, the question carrying a thin edge of desperation. Her memories were hazy, fractured. She grasped at them like water slipping through her fingers. The bus. The panic. Her hand reaching for Joel’s—his grip, strong but fleeting. The doors. The struggle. And then… nothing. Just a suffocating void of blackness.

She swallowed hard, the dryness in her throat making it painful.

Joel exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face before meeting her gaze again through the mirror. There was weight in his expression—something heavy, something worn.

"We found the Fireflies," he admitted, the words slow, deliberate, laced with something she couldn’t quite place. Regret? Resignation? His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze shifting away for a moment before locking onto hers again. "Turns out, there's a whole lot more people like you, Ellie. Others who are immune. Dozens, in fact."

A sharp, icy jolt shot through her veins. She blinked, her breath hitching.

Joel hesitated, as if measuring the impact of his next words before speaking. "But it ain't done a damn bit of good. They've… they've given up on finding a cure."

Silence settled between them, thick and suffocating. Ellie stared at him through the mirror, waiting—waiting for him to take it back, for him to say something, anything, that would make it less devastating.

But he didn’t.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white. "I'm taking us home," he murmured, as if the words were supposed to be some kind of comfort.

Ellie turned away, shifting onto her side so she no longer had to see his reflection. The world outside the window blurred into streaks of muted color, her breath coming in shallow, unsteady pulls. Her hands curled into fists against her stomach.

It couldn’t be true.

All the pain. All the death. Every agonizing step she had taken, every scar on her body, every loss she had endured—it had to mean something.

Her immunity—her purpose—had to mean something.

But now? Now she was just another fucking lost cause.

A dull, hollow ache bloomed in her chest, expanding outward until it settled into every fiber of her being.

Joel’s voice, softer this time, broke through the silence. "I'm sorry."

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, lashes damp against her cheeks, willing herself not to cry.

She had given everything.

And it still hadn’t been enough.

---

They found themselves stranded on the outskirts of Jackson, the car sputtering its final, pitiful breaths before giving out completely. Joel had barely managed to guide it to the side of the road before the engine died with a stuttering choke. Now, silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves in the cool autumn breeze.

Ellie sat slouched in the passenger seat, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of the scarred bite on her forearm. The skin there was smooth but sunken, a permanent brand of survival. She let her thumb run over it, over the ridges and dips, lost in thought. The weight of everything they had endured pressed down on her chest, suffocating and relentless. Every sacrifice, every life lost along the way—it all felt like it had led to nothing.

Joel, standing by the open hood of the car, released a heavy sigh before slamming it shut with a frustrated clang. "Well, looks like we're walking," he muttered, his voice tight with irritation. He glanced toward the road ahead, then to the thick tree line bordering the path. His gaze sharpened with quiet determination as he nodded toward the woods. “Should be a straight shot through here.”

Ellie exhaled, the weariness in her bones seeping into her voice. "Alright," she murmured, tugging the sleeves of her flannel down over her wrists, as if the fabric could shield her from the creeping exhaustion.

Joel started forward first, boots crunching against gravel before giving way to the softer earth beneath. After a few moments of quiet, he tilted his head slightly, his tone shifting to something lighter. "It's actually kinda pretty, ain't it?"

Ellie blinked, as if seeing their surroundings for the first time. The towering trees swayed gently, their branches adorned with leaves painted in hues of gold and deep crimson. Wildflowers peeked through the undergrowth, their delicate petals untouched by the destruction that had consumed the rest of the world. The grass rippled with the wind, the crisp scent of pine and damp earth filling the air.

She inhaled deeply, letting the clean, untainted air fill her lungs. It was a stark contrast to the decayed, metallic stench of abandoned cities and blood-soaked battlegrounds.

"Yeah," she admitted, her voice softer, carrying a note of wonder.

Joel pulled back a section of a rusted barbed-wire fence, holding it open for her. "Alright. Now watch your head going through," he cautioned, nodding for her to go first.

Ellie ducked under the twisted metal, sliding through with practiced ease. She turned back, gripping the wire and holding it steady. "Here… got it," she muttered, her brows furrowed in concentration as she made sure it wouldn't snap back at him.

Joel grunted as he followed, moving a little slower than her, his muscles stiff from the long drive. The moment his boots hit solid ground again, he let out a quiet groan, rolling his shoulders. "Oh… feelin' my age now," he muttered, a wry chuckle escaping him.

Ellie smirked. "Yeah, well… you’re ancient."

Joel let out a scoff, shaking his head. As they started walking again, his voice took on a more reflective tone. "Y'know… don’t think I ever told you, but Sarah and I used to take hikes like this." His gaze flickered to the trees ahead, his expression distant, lost in a memory. After a brief pause, he glanced back at Ellie, a small, almost hesitant smile forming. "I think, ah… I think the two of you would've been good friends."

Ellie’s steps slowed, just slightly. She looked up at him, reading the flicker of emotion in his face, the way his jaw tensed as he cleared his throat.

Joel coughed into his fist, an awkward attempt to mask the vulnerability woven into his words. "Think you really would've liked her. I know she would've liked you."

Ellie felt a strange ache settle in her chest. She had never met Sarah, never even seen a picture of her, but Joel’s love for his daughter was something she could feel—something that lingered in the way he spoke about her, in the rare glimpses of raw emotion he allowed himself to show.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I bet I would've," she said softly, a quiet understanding passing between them.

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he looked ahead again.

The climb was slow, their bodies aching from the long trek, but with each step, the view ahead unfurled into something magnificent. Jackson lay before them, bathed in the soft, golden glow of spring. From their vantage point, they could see the town nestled against the river, a patchwork of cabins and farmland surrounded by a protective wall. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and even from this distance, they could make out the figures of people moving about—a community, thriving, alive.

Joel exhaled sharply, not out of exhaustion, but out of sheer awe. He placed his hands on his hips, nodding toward the scene ahead. "Wow. Look down there. Just a little bit further now," he murmured, his voice tinged with quiet wonder.

Determined to press on, he stepped onto a fallen log, using it as leverage to hoist himself up onto the ledge above. The wood groaned under his weight, shifting suddenly. With a sharp *crack*, it rolled from beneath him, tumbling to the side and leaving no way for Ellie to follow.

"Shit," he muttered, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. He wasted no time, turning back and extending his hand down to her. The movement was instinctive, a gesture cemented by years of survival. "Gimme your hand."

Ellie bent her knees and jumped, her fingers grasping onto Joel’s calloused palm. His grip was firm, unwavering, as he hauled her up beside him, his strength making the effort seem effortless. She found her footing, steadying herself on the rocky ground as Joel released her hand, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat.

"Alright, come on," he encouraged, reaching out to brush the dust from her red flannel.

Ellie hesitated. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her breath uneven. "Hey, wait," she said, her voice quieter now.

Joel turned to face her, his brows knitting together in concern. He studied her, his expression unreadable but patient, waiting for her to speak.

She swallowed hard, inhaling deeply, as if bracing herself against the weight of the truth she had carried for so long. "Back in Boston… back when I was bitten… I wasn't alone," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joel didn’t react—not yet—but she could tell he was listening. Really listening.

Ellie’s fingers found the pendant hanging from her neck, the Firefly insignia cool beneath her touch. Her thumb brushed over the engraved name as an image of Riley’s grin flashed through her mind. "My best friend was there. And she got bit too," she continued, her voice thick with something she wasn’t sure she could control. "We didn't know what to do. So... she said, 'Let's just wait it out. Y'know, we can be all poetic and just lose our minds together.'"

She let the words settle, let them breathe in the air between them.

Joel’s gaze softened, a deep sorrow creeping into his features. He knew where this was going—knew it all too well.

Ellie looked up at him then, her eyes searching his, raw and unguarded. "I'm still waiting for my turn," she admitted, the confession leaving her lips like an exhale she had been holding for far too long.

Joel’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides. "Ellie—"

But she wasn’t finished. She cut him off, her voice resolute. "Her name was Riley, and she was the first to die." She took a breath, steeling herself. "And then it was Tess. And then Sam."

The names hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. A list of ghosts. A testament to the ones they couldn’t save.

Joel shifted closer, his presence solid, grounding. His voice was quiet, steady. "None of that is on you."

Ellie’s lips parted, then pressed together again. Her head shook, her eyes glistening with something unshed. "No, you don’t understand," she whispered, and this time, there was an urgency in her tone, as if she needed him to hear her—really hear her.

Joel sighed, his fingers absentmindedly reaching for his watch, thumb brushing over the fractured glass. A reflex. A habit. "I struggled for a long time with survivin'," he admitted, his voice rough around the edges, weighed down by the years. "And you… no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for." His gaze lingered on her, his expression open in a way it rarely was. "Now, I know that's not what you wanna hear right now, but it’s—"

"Swear to me," Ellie interrupted, her words cutting through his like a knife.

Joel blinked, taken aback. "What?"

Her eyes locked onto his, unwavering, demanding. "Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true."

His breath hitched, his body going unnaturally still.

She knew. Maybe she had always known.

Joel’s mind raced. He could still see the hospital—the blood-soaked floor, the doctors slumped against sterile walls, the weight of Ellie limp in his arms as alarms blared in the background. The Fireflies had been willing to kill her for a chance at a cure. And he had taken that choice away.

If he told her the truth now, if he unraveled everything he had so carefully stitched together, he knew what it would cost him.

Her trust.

And he couldn’t lose her.

Not her.

His lips parted. His heart pounded against his ribs.

And then—

"I swear," he said. His voice was steady. Unwavering.

Ellie searched his face, her gaze piercing. Seconds stretched into eternity.

Then, at last—

"Okay."

---

Jackson sprawled before Ellie, unlike anything she had ever seen in her young life. The remnants of Boston had been a prison, its towering walls meant to keep people in just as much as they were meant to keep the infected out. But here, in Jackson, the streets thrived. Vibrant and bustling, the town breathed with a kind of life that felt almost alien to her.

Shops lined the streets, their wooden signs swaying gently in the crisp breeze. Vendors called out their wares—fresh produce, handmade tools, clothing stitched together from whatever fabric they could salvage. The smells hit her all at once—warm bread, roasted meat, the faintest hint of burning firewood lingering in the air. People strode along the sidewalks, some carrying baskets brimming with supplies, others engaged in casual conversation, laughter spilling into the streets like a melody.

For a moment, Ellie just stood there, taking it all in.

This place was… alive.

The contrast was jarring. Most of the world she'd known was cold and broken, its people hardened, surviving rather than living. But Jackson? Jackson felt untouched by the horrors beyond its gates, like some relic of the past stubbornly clinging to existence.

And then, she noticed the eyes.

People were staring.

Some tried to be subtle about it, casting glances from the corners of their eyes, pretending to focus on their work. Others were more obvious, their gazes openly tracking Ellie and Joel as they passed. Conversations quieted as they walked by, hushed whispers carrying through the streets.

A sudden unease settled in her gut, the kind that made her fingers twitch toward her knife.

"Sorry 'bout that," Tommy said beside them, catching the shift in her posture. "They’re still wary of newcomers."

Joel let out a low grunt, the sound more of acknowledgment than understanding. He shifted slightly, positioning himself just a fraction in front of Ellie—subtle, but deliberate. His gaze swept over the staring townsfolk, his expression darkening. The message was clear: Look too long, and you’ll regret it.

"Where are we goin'?" Joel asked, his tone edged with impatience.

Tommy turned to Ellie, his sharp features softening. "I picked out a house for y’all… after you came through last time," he explained, his voice carrying a warmth Ellie wasn’t used to. "It’s real nice. I think you’ll like it." He smiled at her, a genuine, welcoming thing.

Ellie sniffed, rubbing her hands together against the bite of the cold air. "If it gets me outta this freezing-ass weather, then great," she muttered. Her breath curled in the frosty air as she tucked her hands under her arms for warmth.

Tommy chuckled, the sound deep and easy. "Come on, then. It’s this way."

They followed him, weaving through the streets, past clusters of people who had paused their daily activities to get a better look at them. The attention made Ellie’s skin itch.

She leaned closer to Joel, her voice a sharp whisper. "These people got a real bad fuckin’ staring problem."

Joel smirked but kept his eyes ahead. "They’re just curious, kid."

"Yeah, well, they can be curious somewhere else." She huffed, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Feels like I'm a goddamn zoo animal."

Joel’s chuckle was low and amused. "We're almost there," he assured her, voice quiet but firm. Then, after a pause, he added, "Try not to kill anyone."

Ellie shot him a glare. "No promises."

His smirk widened. "Atta girl."

After a brisk walk through the heart of Jackson, they finally arrived at their destination. The sight of the house before them made Ellie stop in her tracks, her breath hitching in her throat.

It was… huge.

A grand two-story structure, its pale blue exterior was smooth and unblemished, the white trim crisp against the deep color of the wooden porch. The windows weren’t shattered, their panes gleamed under the golden afternoon light, and the roof showed no signs of collapse or decay. A sturdy railing wrapped around the front, leading to a small set of steps that beckoned them inside.

Ellie had seen houses before—old, crumbling relics of the past, their walls overtaken by vines, their ceilings sagging, their insides stripped bare by looters. But this? This house looked as if the world had never fallen apart.

"This ours?" Joel asked, tilting his head as he took in the sight. A low whistle escaped his lips, and he nodded in quiet admiration. "Damn… it’s real nice."

Tommy grinned, clearly pleased with his brother’s reaction. He clapped Joel on the back, a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. "Nothin’ but the best for my brother and his… girl," he said, his voice full of unspoken meaning.

Joel stiffened slightly at the phrasing, his jaw ticking for just a moment before he exhaled through his nose. He didn’t correct Tommy.

Tommy studied him carefully. He hadn’t expected Joel to return with her. When they first came through Jackson, Joel had made it clear—he was dropping Ellie off with the Fireflies and moving on. But now? Now they were back, together, standing in front of a house Tommy had picked out for them.

Something had changed.

"Go on," Tommy urged, his gesture lighthearted, but there was something knowing in his eyes. "Take a look around."

Ellie hesitated. The house looked too nice, too… permanent. The thought of staying anywhere for more than a night or two was strange enough—let alone somewhere that looked like a goddamn postcard. She glanced up at Joel, uncertainty flickering across her face.

Joel met her gaze, and as if sensing the hesitation gnawing at her, he gave her a small nudge. "Well, go on, kiddo," he encouraged, his lips tugging into a smirk. "You're faster than me, anyway. My back’s about to give out." To emphasize his point, he groaned dramatically, stretching his arms above his head.

Ellie rolled her eyes, but a grin broke through. "Jesus, you’re such an old man," she muttered before turning and bolting up the steps, disappearing into the house without another word.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head as he watched her go.

His amusement was short-lived.

"We need to talk," Tommy said, his tone quieter, heavier.

Joel let out a sigh, running a hand down his face. "Yeah," he muttered, shoulders sagging slightly. "Figured you were gonna say that."

Tommy crossed his arms, his expression lined with concern. "The hell happened, Joel?"

Before Joel could answer, a loud whoop echoed from inside the house.

"Joel!" Ellie’s voice rang out, brimming with excitement. "They got fuckin’ indoor plumbing! And it actually works!"

Joel barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he heard her footsteps thudding through the house. That kind of enthusiasm—real, unfiltered joy—was rare. It was moments like these that made everything worth it.

Tommy huffed out a chuckle. "Well, she’s easy to please."

Joel grinned, eyes still on the house. "Yeah. She is."

Tommy’s gaze softened, studying his brother for a beat before nudging him lightly on the arm. "We’ll talk later," he promised. "For now, go check out your new place. If y’all need anything, we can run out and grab supplies."

Joel nodded in appreciation, then wasted no time climbing the steps. The warmth of the house wrapped around him as he stepped inside, the scent of old wood and clean linen filling his senses. He took a moment to scan the space—wide-open living room, stone fireplace, a kitchen with actual countertops that weren’t covered in dust or grime.

But Ellie was nowhere in sight.

He followed the sound of movement, stepping through the hallway toward the back of the house.

And then he saw her.

She was standing just outside, her small frame framed by the late afternoon light. She had found the garage, its side door propped open, revealing a fully furnished space inside. A small kitchenette, a separate bathroom—hell, the only thing missing was a bed and maybe a TV.

Her eyes flicked across every detail, taking it all in, as if trying to convince herself that it was real.

Joel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"So," he drawled, watching her closely. "What do you think, kiddo?"

Ellie shifted her weight, a faint wince tugging at the corners of her mouth as her lower back twinged in protest. It was a reminder—an echo—of the countless nights she’d spent curled up on cold, unforgiving ground. Concrete. Dirt. The hard floor of an abandoned convenience store. There had never been softness, never anything resembling comfort. And now, here she stood in a warm, enclosed space with a roof that didn’t leak and floors that didn’t creak under threat of collapse.

"This is a lot better than the ground," she muttered, almost as if she didn’t trust herself to believe it yet. A hint of relief crept into her voice, softening the ever-present edge she wore like armor.

Joel's smile broadened as he stepped further into the garage-turned-haven, his boots echoing dully on the smooth floor. He crossed his arms, studying the layout—modest, but solid. Clean. Safe. Permanent.

"I'm gonna assume you've already staked your claim on this place?" he asked, a knowing lilt in his tone. The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, the weight of the world momentarily lifting from his shoulders.

Ellie turned to him with a grin that seemed too big for her face, lighting her features with a joy that was rare, sacred. She nodded, eyes darting around the space like she was cataloging everything she'd make hers—the counter, the little table, the spot under the window where she’d want the bed to go. For a moment, she looked her age. Fourteen. Not a killer, not immune, not the weight-bearing center of a dying world.

“Yeah,” she said simply. “I call dibs.”

The idea of having her own room was something she hadn’t thought possible again. There’d been a brief stint in the QZ when she'd been given a small room during an evaluation period—bare mattress, no personal touches allowed—but even then, she knew it was temporary. Eventually, she'd get rotated back into bunkrooms, with girls who either hated her, feared her, or ignored her altogether. A shadow of melancholy passed over her features as her thoughts flickered to Boston, to the Firefly pendant tucked in her pocket, to Riley. Her stuff was probably gone. Tossed. Forgotten.

Joel exhaled through his nose, sensing the shift in her mood even if she didn’t voice it. He gave the room another once-over and scratched the back of his neck. “Well,” he said, his voice gravelly but kind, “you’re gonna need furniture. Somethin’ to sleep on, at least. Once we get somethin’ to eat, I’ll help you move the bed from the spare room. We’ll make it yours.”

Ellie’s stomach growled in perfect timing, loud enough to echo slightly in the quiet space. She placed a hand on her gut and groaned. “I am so fuckin’ hungry,” she admitted, not even trying to hide it.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Let’s go, then. Tommy said there’s a mess hall nearby. Sounds like they actually serve real meals here.”

He turned toward the door, but Ellie darted past him with the energy of someone half her weight and none of his years. She tugged on the sleeve of his flannel shirt, urging him forward. “C’mon, old man. Don’t make me carry you,” she teased.

Joel let out a low laugh as he followed, unable to suppress the warmth in his chest at the feel of her hand clutching at his sleeve like a lifeline.

Outside, the wind bit at their cheeks again, but it no longer felt quite so cold. Ellie’s boots slapped against the frozen ground as she pulled him along, her eyes darting from signposts to wooden buildings with chimneys puffing steady trails of smoke into the pale sky. The streets bustled with people—some carrying firewood, others walking hand in hand, children running ahead of watchful parents. Laughter mingled with the sound of distant music drifting from a nearby porch radio.

And still, people stared.

Their gazes lingered—some curious, some guarded, some trying not to be obvious about it. Ellie noticed. She always noticed. But this time, she didn’t shrink away. Her hunger was louder than their scrutiny, and her focus stayed locked on the carved wooden sign pointing toward the Mess Hall.

As they neared the mess hall, Ellie’s footsteps slowed. That nervous flutter in her chest—the one she hadn’t felt in a long time—tightened its grip. She tried to brush it off, but the sight of the small crowd gathered outside made it impossible to ignore. Children, younger than her, chased each other in carefree games across well-maintained patches of grass, their shrieks of laughter echoing like wind chimes on a summer breeze. Parents lounged nearby, some chatting, others keeping quiet watch, the kind of protective presence Ellie had only ever associated with Joel. It was the picture of a life untouched by fear, by loss. A life Ellie had never known.

And it made her feel like a ghost walking among the living.

Her hand instinctively twitched toward her sleeve, tugging it lower over her scarred forearm. Eyes followed her and Joel with palpable curiosity. She could feel the weight of their attention pressing down on her skin, as if the town itself were holding its breath, waiting to judge whether they were friend or foe. Ellie’s confidence faltered. Her shoulders hunched slightly, like a stray dog approaching a back porch—hopeful, but bracing for the door to slam.

Sensing her discomfort, Joel stepped in front of her without a word. He stood tall, broad shoulders squared, his body a solid barrier between Ellie and the eyes that watched them. His presence was like a wall—immovable, deliberate. The intensity in his gaze dared anyone to look too long, to ask too many questions.

“Let’s go, kiddo,” he said, low and firm, his voice a comforting anchor. His arm swept around her, steadying her steps as he led her toward the open doors of the mess hall.

The instant they stepped inside, warmth enveloped them—dry, comforting warmth that seemed to melt away the frost clinging to their clothes. And then came the smell. It hit Ellie like a truck: buttery mashed potatoes, crisp roasted chicken skin, peas swimming in butter and garlic, the faint scent of fresh bread wafting from somewhere unseen. Her mouth watered so quickly it was almost painful.

Gone were the days of cold cans, stale crackers, and half-charred squirrels skewered over dying campfires. This was food—real food—and it called to her like a siren song.

The line moved steadily, townsfolk greeting the familiar staff with casual smiles and tired jokes. Ellie and Joel stood out like wolves in a flock of sheep, but the servers behind the counter didn’t flinch. Instead, a woman with wisps of silver in her hair and a face carved by laughter and sun offered Ellie a plate without hesitation.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” the woman asked, her voice kind and rich with warmth.

Ellie stiffened at first. Suspicion was her default reaction to kindness. But the woman’s eyes weren’t judging—just curious. Friendly. Genuine.

“Yeah,” Ellie said quietly, her grip tightening around the tray.

The woman’s smile deepened. She reached for an extra piece of chicken and placed it on Ellie’s plate, then filled a glass of water and set it beside it. “Growing girl like you needs her strength,” she said with a wink, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Ellie blinked, stunned for a moment by the sheer normalcy of the interaction.

Joel elbowed her gently. “What do you say, Ellie?” he murmured, teasing.

Ellie’s face flushed with the kind of awkwardness that only came with being caught off-guard. “Oh. Uh… thank you,” she said, flashing a crooked smile.

She scanned the room, her instincts pulling her toward solitude. In the far corner sat an empty table—quiet, tucked away, safe. Without waiting, she made a beeline for it, head down, tray balanced carefully in her hands. Joel followed a few steps behind, easing into the seat across from her with a quiet groan as he settled in.

Ellie didn’t wait. Her fork dove into the chicken like a weapon, and she took a bite so fast she nearly forgot to chew. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips.

“Jesus,” she muttered around a mouthful. “This is insane.”

Joel watched with quiet amusement, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his tray. “Slow down there, kiddo,” he said with a smirk. “Chicken’s not gonna grow legs and run off.”

Ellie glanced up, cheeks full, then quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “Sorry,” she mumbled, though her grin betrayed her. “It’s just—fuck, it’s good.”

“I’ll say,” Joel agreed, cutting into his own piece with deliberate slowness.

For a moment, they ate in silence. Not the tense, survivalist silence they were used to—this was the quiet of full bellies and soft lighting, of comfort unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Ellie glanced around the room, taking it all in: the wood-paneled walls, the chatter of families, the gentle clinking of utensils. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was nothing to run from. And that brought with it its own kind of anxiety.

“So…” Ellie began, her voice tentative, testing the waters of casual conversation. “What do people even talk about when they’re not trying to kill each other?”

Joel chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Tommy said there were some kids your age,” he offered. “Might be worth tryin’ to talk to ‘em.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “And say what, exactly? ‘Hi, I’ve got trauma and a bite mark that should’ve killed me but didn’t?’”

Joel winced. “Well, maybe don’t lead with that.”

Ellie scoffed, but there was a flicker of something behind her sarcasm. Hope, maybe. Fear. “I dunno. Last time I tried to be friends with kids my age, it didn’t end well.”

Joel looked thoughtful, rubbing his chin. “What about those comics you like? What’s it called… Starlight Vengeance?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, snorting. “Savage Starlight, old man.”

“Right, that,” Joel said, grinning. “Maybe some of ‘em read it too. You’d be surprised.”

Ellie smiled despite herself, a soft one that faded just as quickly. Her fingers found the edge of her sleeve again, tugging it down over her arm.

“There’s one small problem,” she murmured.

Joel looked up. “What’s that?”

“The big-ass bite mark,” she whispered, barely audible over the clatter around them. “It’s not always gonna be cold. I can’t wear long sleeves forever. And if someone sees it…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

Joel’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling around his fork. “Shit,” he muttered. “I’d almost forgotten about that.” He ran a hand down his face, then nodded, voice low. “Alright. We’ll talk to Maria and Tommy. Figure something out.”

Ellie nodded, her appetite waning slightly as the weight of reality returned.

And then she saw her.

A girl, maybe around her age, with warm tan skin and long black hair braided over her shoulder, sat at a nearby table. Her eyes met Ellie’s. And held. A smile—shy, but genuine—curved the girl’s lips.

Ellie froze. Her pulse skipped. Heat crept into her face like a flash fire. She tore her gaze away, pretending to focus intently on her food, though her hands trembled just slightly as she picked up her fork.

“Damn hormones,” she muttered, shoving a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth in a desperate attempt to save face.

Joel quirked a brow. “You say somethin’?”

Ellie shook her head quickly. “Nothing. Eat your chicken, old man.” But the blush on her cheeks didn’t fade—and neither did the memory of that smile.

Chapter 2: If I Ever Were To Lose You

Joel sat hunched in a sagging armchair, the springs groaning beneath his weight. The frayed fabric scratched at the skin through his shirt, but he hardly noticed. His eyes were fixed on the guitar in his lap, an old thing he’d managed to find—a little beat-up, but still beautiful in its own way. He wiped a worn cloth over the fingerboard, pausing as his thumb brushed over the tiny metal moth inlaid near the frets. It caught the light from the nearby window, a shimmer of silver in the late afternoon sun.

He’d promised Ellie he’d teach her. It wasn’t much, not compared to the hell they’d both been through, but it was something. A sliver of normal. A song or two between the silence. Maybe that was enough.

Jackson was starting to feel like a place where they could breathe. Two months in, and the stares had mostly stopped. The whispers died down. Ellie had even made some friends—real ones, not just kids she tolerated. Joel caught glimpses of her laughing sometimes, racing through the town square or hunched over comic books with the others. It gave him a strange ache in his chest. Pride, maybe. Relief. But even in her laughter, he saw it—that flicker of shadow in her eyes. The way she’d go quiet for no reason. That haunted stillness that crept in when no one was watching.

The past was a heavy thing. Joel knew that all too well. He couldn’t undo what had happened to her—or to him. But maybe, just maybe, he could give her a little peace. Even if it was just the hum of a guitar beneath her fingers.

Across from him, Tommy leaned back on a cracked wooden table, arms crossed, concern written all over his face. The room was silent but for the soft creak of old wood and the occasional buzz of wind against the boarded-up windows. They were miles outside the town on a routine supply run—just the two of them. No ears to overhear. No prying eyes.

“You gonna tell me now?” Tommy asked finally, his voice low. “What really happened?”

Joel didn’t look up. He kept tuning the strings, letting the metallic whine of each note fill the air. He didn’t answer right away.

Tommy pressed again. “I mean it, Joel. You’ve been dodging the question ever since you got here. Last time I saw you, you were ready to walk away from that girl. Said she wasn’t your problem. Next thing I know, you're showin’ up here with her lookin’ like she’s yours.”

Joel paused. Let the question settle between them like dust. He gently set the guitar down beside him, the creak of the wood loud in the quiet.

“I don’t know what the hell happened,” Joel said finally, his voice rough. “I was supposed to take her to the Fireflies. Drop her off and walk away.”

His fingers tapped against the armrest, slow and steady. A tell he couldn’t shake.

“I tried to,” he said. “Tried like hell to let her go.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, dragging down across his jaw. The words stuck in his throat like barbed wire. “But she... she grew on me, Tommy. She’s not just some kid. She’s... she’s Ellie. And she saved my goddamn life.”

He stood, slow and heavy, then lifted the hem of his shirt. A pale scar stretched across his torso, jagged and angry even after all these months. “Wasn’t for her, I’d be dead and buried in some fucking ditch out in Colorado.”

Tommy let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus.”

Joel nodded. “Yeah.”

Joel slouched deeper into the threadbare chair, the worn upholstery groaning beneath him. His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped tightly together like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. The low creak of the wooden frame seemed to echo in the stillness between him and Tommy—an old house grown even quieter under the weight of what Joel was about to say.

"After the injury..." Joel began, his voice rough, gravel scraping against years of buried guilt. “Things changed. More than I was ready for.”

His eyes wandered to the dust motes swirling in the dying light leaking through the boarded-up window. But he wasn’t seeing the room. He was seeing Ellie. Seeing her small, shaking hands covered in blood. Seeing her eyes—hollow, vacant after what she went through in that snow-covered resort, in that goddamn cannibal town.

David.

Even thinking the name made Joel's hands curl into fists. “I think she needed it. Her immunity. Needed it to mean somethin'.”

Tommy didn’t interrupt. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, listening with the kind of stillness that only brothers shared in moments like these.

Joel looked down at the floor. His fingers ran absently through his beard, coarse and uneven. “I started to believe it too. That maybe this cure was real. That maybe we were meant to get there. That maybe... I could do right by her for once.”

He closed his eyes for a beat, remembering the Firefly facility, the sterile white halls that still smelled like antiseptic and death. The cold voice of that surgeon. The gunshot echoing through the OR.

“And we did it,” Joel continued. “We found ‘em. Fireflies. They were there. And Ellie—because of her, Tommy—they were gonna make the cure. It wasn’t bullshit. Wasn’t false hope. It was real.”

Joel paused, his jaw tightening.

“But it’d kill her,” he said, flat and unforgiving. “The only way to make the vaccine... was to cut it outta her brain.”

Tommy’s mouth parted, stunned into silence.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” he breathed. “So what... what did you do?”

Joel didn’t hesitate. “I saved her.”

His voice carried no apology, no shame—only a quiet ferocity. He didn’t go into detail, didn’t speak of the blood-slick floors, the dead men and women in white coats, or the Firefly leader pleading with him. All Tommy needed to know was the end.

“She was out cold,” Joel went on. “Didn’t even know what was gonna happen to her. Never got a say in any of it. And they were gonna carve her open like she was already dead.”

Tommy let out a long, low whistle, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “Goddamn,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

He looked over at Joel. “What about Ellie? What does she know?”

Joel leaned back, eyes distant, haunted. “I told her they ran some tests. Said her immunity didn’t mean nothin’ after all.”

Tommy blinked, frowning. “She bought that?”

Joel looked at him, the flicker of a memory clouding his gaze—Ellie’s face the day he told her, pale and hollow, her voice quiet when she said, “Okay.”

“Didn't say otherwise,” Joel said, his voice low.

Tommy blew out a breath and stood, pacing toward the window. The golden wash of sunset lit up the side of his face, outlining his features in burnt orange and shadow.

“We should head back,” he said finally, glancing toward the horizon. “Sun’s getting low.”

Joel nodded, standing slowly, his knees creaking like the chair he left behind. He bent to pick up the guitar, cradling it like something fragile.

As they stepped out of the house, the world met them in amber light. The wind stirred the tall grass around them, the scent of pine and dust heavy in the air. Joel swung his leg over his horse, settling into the saddle with the ease of routine. Tommy mounted beside him, and together they rode toward the distant outline of Jackson, where smoke curled lazily from chimneys and the wall rose like a fortress against the wild.

They rode on in silence, the weight of Joel’s confession hanging between them like the final note of a song that wouldn’t quite fade. The world around them softened as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the land in a golden wash. Orange and pink streaked across the clouds, a painter’s touch on the canvas of dusk. The stillness of the open fields gave way to the gentle hum of life as Jackson emerged ahead—its towering wooden walls wrapped in ivy and dusklight, a beacon of safety carved into the wilderness.

The creaking of the front gates, groaning open on iron hinges, greeted them like an old friend. That sound had become familiar now, almost comforting—a reminder that, for all the things they had lost, this place still stood.

Joel swung down from his horse with practiced ease, the leather saddle groaning under his shift in weight. He reached up, patting the horse’s neck with a quiet, absent affection, the kind reserved for creatures that had carried him through storms and fire.

“I’ll take care of ’em,” Tommy said, stepping forward and wrapping his hand around the reins of Joel’s horse. His voice carried an unspoken understanding, his expression etched with that rare mix of brotherly duty and compassion.

Joel hesitated, one hand still on the saddle. “You sure?”

Tommy gave a tight nod. “Yeah. You go on.”

Joel lingered for a breath, eyes scanning his brother’s face, and then let out a quiet exhale. “All right.” He pulled his pack from the saddle, slinging it over his shoulder with a grunt.

As Joel turned to leave, Tommy called out to him, his voice lower now, heavy with meaning. “’Bout what we were talkin’ about earlier... I can’t say I’d’ve done it different.” He looked down for a second, then back up. “I’ll take it to the grave, if that’s what it takes.”

Joel paused. For a moment, he didn’t speak—just looked at Tommy with a depth that couldn’t quite be said aloud. Eventually, he gave a small nod.

“I appreciate that,” he said softly, the words rough-edged but sincere. “I’ll see you later, Tommy.”

Tommy nodded in return, a silent seal to a vow neither of them would ever break.

Joel turned away, his boots crunching lightly against gravel and dirt as he made his way through the winding path that led back into the heart of town. As the sky deepened into shades of violet, the streets of Jackson stirred gently around him—laughter spilling from windows, the clink of cutlery from shared dinners, and the distant bark of a dog chasing something it had no hope of catching. Lanterns strung between buildings flickered to life, casting golden halos that danced on brick and wood.

People passed by with quiet nods and cautious smiles. Joel returned them with stiff, polite gestures. It was still strange, this idea of being safe enough to greet neighbors—no rifles slung over shoulders, no urgent scanning of rooftops. He wasn't quite used to it, but he didn’t push it away either. Not anymore.

Upon reaching the familiar door of his house, Joel paused, taking a breath as the quiet of evening settled around him. He shrugged off his coat, the leather worn and weathered, and hung it carefully on the hook near the entrance. His shoulders eased a fraction, the chill of the ride giving way to the warmth of home.

“Ellie?” he called out, his voice low but carrying, familiar in the stillness. No response.

He stepped further inside, boots thudding softly against the floorboards. The silence wasn’t alarming—Ellie often got caught up in her own little worlds—but it still felt... quieter than usual.

Joel passed through the main room, glancing at the dim glow of the kitchen, the books scattered across the table, a half-drunk cup of water still sitting where she’d likely forgotten it. Joel's steps then carried him towards the back door leading to the backyard garage, a sense of anticipation building within him.

Pushing open the door to Ellie’s room, Joel found her seated at her desk, completely absorbed in her own world. Her headphones were clamped snugly over her ears, faint music spilling out—something soft and haunting, the kind of tune that lingered. Her head was tilted slightly, lips moving to lyrics only she could hear. A journal lay open in front of her, her pen scratching across the page with an intensity that made Joel pause at the threshold.

“Ellie?” he called, his voice quiet but firm.

She didn’t stir.

“Hello?” he tried again, stepping forward. He gave the leg of her chair a light tap with the toe of his boot.

Ellie startled violently, slamming her journal shut as she whipped around in her chair. Her headphones tumbled around her neck, her wide eyes finding Joel immediately.

“Jesus,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Joel held up his hands in surrender, offering a sheepish grin. “I tried knockin’. You were off in the clouds or somethin’.”

Ellie exhaled sharply, but her features softened. “You gotta stop sneakin’ up on me like that, man. I almost stabbed you with a pencil.”

Joel chuckled, hands slipping into his pockets. “Wouldn’t be the worst way I’ve gotten hurt,” he muttered with dry humor. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy, either. The kind of quiet that only forms between people carrying things unspoken.

“Hey,” Ellie said, her voice a little more grounded now. She offered him a lopsided grin, one eyebrow quirking upward. “What’s up, Joel?”

“Just checkin’ in,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “People’ve been sayin’ good things. About you. Said you’ve been real helpful around town.”

Ellie shrugged, but there was pride in her eyes. “Thats good.”

Joel lingered, rocking slightly on his heels. “So... Tommy and I went out ridin’ earlier,” he started, fumbling with the words like they were slippery in his mouth. “He told me this joke—somethin’ about a clock. I can’t remember the damn punchline, though.”

Ellie squinted, glancing at the actual clock on her desk. “Joel, it’s late,” she said, her voice gentle but edged with exhaustion. “I gotta be up early.”

Joel raised both hands again, nodding. “Right, yeah. I know. I’m not tryin’ to keep you or nothin’, I just…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the door. “I wanna show you somethin’. Just give me one second, alright?”

He turned before she could reply, disappearing. Ellie watched after him, confused, one eyebrow arched.

He was back a moment later, carrying something in his arms.

A guitar.

It was old, but clean—its polished surface gleamed softly in the low garage light. The strings were new, taut and ready. Joel cradled it like it was something precious, something fragile.

Ellie blinked. “What’s that?”

Joel gave her a mock-serious look. “Some folks call this thing a ‘gee-tar,’” he said, his drawl exaggerated as he carefully sank down onto the coffee table.

Ellie snorted. “Wow. I’ve heard of those. Endangered species, right?”

Joel gave her a crooked smile. “Somethin’ like that.”

He rested the guitar across his thigh, his fingers drifting over the strings with practiced ease. “Found it. Needed some fixin’ up. Figured I’d give it a shot.”

Ellie tilted her head. “You gonna play something?”

His fingers paused.

“Only if you promise not to laugh,” he said, half-joking, half-serious.

Ellie leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I won’t laugh,” she said. “Unless it’s really bad.”

Joel chuckled under his breath. “Alright, smartass,” he muttered. “I’m trustin’ you.”

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and let his fingers find their place on the frets.

Then he played.

The first few chords rang out, low and mellow, filling the room like warm smoke. It wasn’t perfect—there was a slight tremor to the rhythm, a hesitation in his fingers—but it was real. Honest. The melody unfurled slowly, curling around the walls and settling into the quiet corners of the room.

Joel’s voice followed—rough, weathered, yet somehow tender. There was no flourish, no performance. Just him, sharing something wordless he couldn’t otherwise say.

“If I ever were to lose you
I’d surely lose myself
Everything I have found here
I’ve not found by myself
Try and sometimes you’ll succeed
To make this man of me
All my stolen missing parts
I’ve no need for anymore
’Cause I believe
And I believe ‘cause I can see
Our future days
Days of you and me.”

Ellie listened intently, her eyes locked on Joel as he played. His voice wasn’t perfect—there was a gravelly edge to it, worn down by time and silence—but it was warm, like something remembered from a distant past. A little shaky, too. It had probably been a long time since he’d sung in front of anyone, let alone her. That vulnerability didn’t go unnoticed.

When the final chord settled into silence, Joel gave a small, sheepish smile, his fingers still resting lightly on the strings.

“There you go,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur.

Ellie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Well...” she drawled, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “That didn’t suck.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and rough in his chest. “I’ll take what I can get,” he said, amused.

Then, without ceremony, he stood and gently held out the guitar to her. “She’s yours.”

Ellie’s eyes widened, the grin vanishing as her hands went up in protest. “No. No, no, no,” she said quickly, backing up in her chair a little. “I don’t know the first thing about this.” She gestured awkwardly at the instrument, like it was some kind of ancient relic she wasn’t worthy of touching.

Joel simply shrugged, as if the decision had already been made. “I promised I’d teach you,” he said, his voice calm and certain.

Ellie blinked. That promise—so small at the time—floated back into her mind. A conversation from what felt like another life.

“You did,” she said quietly, her tone softer now, the sarcasm fading.

Joel gave her a little nod, satisfied. He started toward the door, but paused with a hand on the frame. “So what do you say? Tomorrow night. First lesson?”

Ellie looked down at the guitar resting across her lap. Her fingers hovered above the strings. For a brief moment, the past—the Fireflies, Salt Lake, the cold silence that followed—started to rise like a shadow behind her. But then it slipped away, gently nudged aside by something warmer.

“Deal,” she said, her voice firmer now. She met his eyes and gave him a small, genuine smile.

Joel’s grin lit up his face in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Okay. Okay,” he repeated, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

He started to leave, but her voice stopped him at the door.

“Hey, wait—” she said, suddenly uncertain. “Did… did you remember the joke?”

Joel blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, brow furrowed as he searched his memory. Then, with a spark of recognition, he pointed at her, a glint in his eye. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it. What’s the downside to eatin’ a clock?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, playing along. “I dunno. What?”

“It’s time consuming,” he deadpanned, lips tugging into a crooked grin.

Ellie snorted, her smile breaking through. “That’s so dumb,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Joel let out a real laugh then, warm and rich. “Yeah. G’night, kiddo,” he said, easing the door closed behind him.

For a moment, Ellie just sat there, the room quiet again—except now, it wasn’t the lonely kind of quiet. She looked down at the guitar in her lap and tentatively plucked a few strings. The notes were clumsy, uneven, but they echoed softly, like the beginning of something.

“If I ever were to lose you…” she sang under her breath, the melody still lingering in the room from Joel’s voice.

She smiled.

Joel would have to teach her that one first.

It was catchy.

---

Joel and Ellie sat side by side on the front porch, their guitars resting on their laps. The fading sunlight stretched long across the wood beneath their feet, casting golden hues over the quiet neighborhood. Joel’s fingers moved with practiced ease, guiding Ellie through the basic notes—slow, patient, methodical.

Ellie, however, was anything but calm.

“This is bullshit,” she muttered, her brows furrowed as she pressed down on the wrong string—again—and the sound that came out was more of a screech than a note. “Why is this so hard?” she growled, throwing her head back with a groan.

Joel chuckled, the sound like gravel and warmth all at once. “The more you practice, the easier it gets,” he said, plucking at his own strings with the sort of ease that only came from years of muscle memory.

Ellie let out a dramatic sigh and slumped forward, resting her forehead against the guitar’s body. “Imma smash it. I swear to God.”

Joel smirked, not missing a beat. “I’ll just get you another.”

She peeked up at him, unimpressed. “Show off…” she mumbled, and Joel responded by playing a few soft, melodic notes—taunting, almost.

“You know,” he said casually, “I taught Tommy how to play when he was around your age… maybe a bit younger.”

Ellie perked up, her frustration momentarily forgotten. She raised an eyebrow and motioned with her hand for him to continue. “Well? Don’t leave me hangin’.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him. “He smashed the guitar,” he said, laughing at the memory. “Got so damn frustrated he couldn’t play this one chord—just picked it up and bam—split it right in half.”

Ellie blinked. “Tommy? No way. Beta Tommy? Mr. Calm-and-Collected?”

“Oh yeah,” Joel said with a grin. “This was back when we were still livin’ with our folks. Tommy was tryin’ to impress some girl at school. Thought he’d play her a song at the talent show.”

“How long did he last?”

“Two days.” Joel grinned. “Two whole days before he lost his shit. I think I was about eighteen—still kinda dumb myself, so when I saw him do it, I was ready to knock his head clean off. But Mama beat me to it with just a look.”

He let out a low whistle. “Swore Tommy pissed himself.”

Ellie burst out laughing, her frustration forgotten in an instant. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” Joel said with a nod, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “Mama made him mow lawns all summer to pay for a new one. He never smashed another guitar after that.”

Joel’s voice softened a little at the mention of his mother. There was a quiet reverence in his tone, a flicker of warmth and sorrow. Ellie caught it, but didn’t press. Some things didn’t need to be spoken out loud.

The two of them sat there for a while, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence. They watched people move along the main road—some hauling supplies, others chatting as they passed by. A couple kids kicked a soccer ball between them, their laughter echoing faintly in the breeze.

It was strange, being able to sit outside like this. Peaceful. After everything they’d endured—the blood, the fear, the endless running—this felt like a luxury.

Not perfect. But safe.

Sure, raiders still came every now and then, or a pack of infected would try their luck. But Jackson’s walls were high. The people here were ready. Joel didn’t worry as much—not when Ellie was here, not when he could sit beside her like this, the sun setting behind the horizon, a guitar in their laps.

“You’re gettin’ better, y’know,” Joel said after a moment, not looking at her.

Ellie snorted. “Don’t lie.”

“I ain’t.” He glanced sideways. “It’ll come. You just gotta let it.”

Ellie then glanced sideways at Joel, her fingers fidgeting with the guitar strings. She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek before speaking. “Did you…” she paused, unsure if she should even ask, “Did you ever teach Sarah?”

The question hung in the air like dust in sunlight, delicate and suspended.

Joel didn’t look up right away. His fingers idly strummed a soft chord, the sound humming between them. He sniffed, not from a cold or the chill in the air—but something heavier, older. He’d gotten better at opening up to Ellie over the past few months, letting pieces of himself surface here and there, but Sarah… that was still a scar not yet fully healed.

“I did,” he said finally, his voice low and rough. He gave her a brief glance, then looked down at the frets on his guitar. “The song I sang for you the other day… that was the first one she learned by herself.”

His voice wavered, just barely, but it was enough to say everything he wasn’t. Ellie stayed quiet, not wanting to crowd the space. She could almost picture it: Sarah on a couch just like this, fingers small and clumsy on the strings, that wide, proud smile Joel had only ever mentioned once before.

“She practiced it for weeks,” Joel continued softly. “Her hands were too small for some of the chords, but she figured it out. Played it for me one night after dinner… just grinnin’ like she won the damn lottery.” He chuckled, though it was hollow—more memory than mirth. His eyes shimmered in the fading light, and he blinked hard to chase the sting away.

Ellie swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t say she was sorry—Joel never liked hearing that. Instead, she looked back down at her own guitar, fingers slowly curling around the fretboard. A new weight settled in her chest—not heavy, not painful, but something like purpose. Like legacy.

“Which one’s F again?” she asked, voice soft but steady.

Joel exhaled through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. He reached over, his calloused fingers gently guiding hers into place on the neck of the guitar. “Right here,” he murmured. “Push down with your index, just there… yeah, that’s it.”

They began again, the lesson unfolding quietly between them. Ellie stumbled over the new chords at first, frustration dancing on her brow, but she kept at it—this time with something new pushing her forward. She didn’t just want to learn to play. She wanted to learn that song. Sarah’s song.

Maybe, one day, when she was ready… she’d play it for Joel.

---

“Ellie!”

The alpha turned at the familiar voice, a grin already tugging at her lips as she spotted Dina jogging over, her thick dark curls bouncing with each step.

Dina had been Ellie’s first real friend in Jackson. While most of the other kids had kept their distance—some because she was new, others because she was an alpha, and people always got weird about that—Dina hadn’t hesitated. From that moment on, they were practically inseparable. Jesse had joined their little trio soon after, always tagging along with that easygoing charm of his. It was strange—comforting, even—to have a group. Friends who wanted her around. Not just tolerated her because of someone else.

Back in the QZ, it had always been about Riley. The kids accepted Ellie because Riley made them. But after Riley was gone… it was like Ellie had never even existed.

“Dina,” Ellie replied, her voice dripping with mock enthusiasm as she exaggerated a smile.

Dina rolled her eyes and playfully shoved Ellie’s shoulder. “Don’t be a dick,” she said, giving her a pointed look.

Ellie rubbed her arm dramatically, milking the moment. “Ow. Great. Now I can’t work. You broke my arm,” she moaned, letting her arm flop limply against her side like a dead fish.

“Oh no,” Dina deadpanned, crossing her arms. “Guess that means I won’t bother inviting you to movie night tonight.”

“Wait!” Ellie caught her hand quickly, eyes wide with fake desperation. “I’m cured.” She struck a pose and flexed her bicep. “Behold. Full recovery.”

Dina snorted, reaching over to pinch the barely-there muscle. “Wow. That’s… almost visible.”

Ellie gasped, clutching her arm away with mock offense. “Rude. I’ll have you know, I’m very strong. Super strong, in fact.”

“Oh yeah, no, I believe you,” Dina said, squinting as if trying to detect any sign of definition. “You’re a regular powerhouse.”

The teasing made Ellie smile, her cheeks aching from it. God, it was nice to just laugh.

Dina leaned in and jabbed her finger into Ellie’s chest. “Movie night. Tonight. Jessie’s place. Be there.”

“Ow, jeez,” Ellie complained, recoiling slightly. “You don’t gotta be so violent. I bruise easy, y’know.”

“Clearly. You’re as white as a cloud,” Dina shot back, flashing a grin.

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying, Casper.” Dina chuckled and turned on her heel. “See you tonight, Ellie.”

Ellie watched her go, the smile lingering on her face long after Dina had disappeared down the path. Her heart fluttered in a way that made her stomach twist.

Yeah, maybe she had a small crush.

Okay, maybe more than small. Dina had that spark—that bold, fearless energy that pulled people in without trying. But Ellie knew better than to let herself fall too far. Dina and Jesse had that on-again, off-again thing going. And even if they didn’t, there were other reasons to keep her distance.

Her eyes dropped to the Firefly pendant hanging loosely around her neck, the smooth surface warmed by the sun. She rolled it between her fingers, Riley’s face flashing in her mind—bright eyes, that toothy grin, the softness of her lips after that kiss. Just once. One perfect, stupid, impossible kiss.

God, she missed her. Missed her every single day.

They’d only just begun to imagine a future together, two dumb teenagers dreaming big in a world that didn’t allow for dreaming. And now…

Well. Ellie had stopped dreaming a long time ago.

She stood there for a moment longer, her fingers absently fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. The sounds of Jackson moved around her—laughter from the market square, the faint clip-clop of horses in the distance, the creak of shutters in the afternoon breeze—but it all felt a little muffled. Like she was standing behind glass.

It was stupid, she knew that. Riley had been gone for a long time. And Ellie had survived. More than that—she was living. She had people now. A home.

But it never really stopped hurting. That dull ache in her chest that came and went like the tide.

She ran a hand down her face, dragging herself out of the spiral. No good ever came from swimming too deep in those waters. Not when there were things to do. Duties to finish. Movie nights to pretend everything was fine.

With a sigh, she pushed herself off the wooden post she’d been leaning against and got back to work—hauling feed to the barn, double-checking water lines, helping a couple of the younger kids corral a stubborn goat back into its pen. The mundane rhythm of it helped. Her muscles worked. Her mind quieted.

The hours soon slipped by, and before she knew it, the sun had dipped below the rooftops and the town had taken on a soft golden hue. Lanterns flickered to life in windows. Someone strummed a banjo near the firepit by the main square. She began the short walk toward Jesse’s place. It wasn’t far from where she and Joel stayed, only about two blocks over, but it gave her enough time to wonder who else might be showing up tonight.

Jesse was popular. He had that easygoing charm, the kind that made people gravitate toward him. Tall, warm smile, always ready with a joke. Ellie figured most of the reason he welcomed her in the first place was because of Dina—Dina had that effect on people. But still. It counted for something.

She reached the house and knocked, her knuckles rapping lightly on the wood. For a few moments, nothing. Then the door swung open, letting a burst of warm light spill onto the porch.

“Ellie!” An older woman beamed at her, her face soft with laugh lines. “It’s great to see you, come in.”

Mrs. Jeon—Robin—was Jesse’s mom. She was everything Ellie wasn’t used to: open, kind, endlessly maternal. The woman practically radiated warmth.

“The group’s downstairs,” she added, stepping aside and ushering Ellie in. “I think you’re the last one to arrive.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Jeon,” Ellie said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I was with Joel, and, uh… lost track of time.”

He’d been particularly persistent with their lesson that evening. Determined that she’d master an F chord before leaving his sight.

Robin smiled, her eyes crinkling. “Please, call me Robin.” She reached up and gently smoothed back a strand of Ellie’s hair that had fallen into her face.

The touch made Ellie flinch—just slightly—but Robin didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did and chose not to comment on it. Either way, her hand was gone a second later, and the warmth of the gesture lingered longer than Ellie expected it to.

“Now go,” Robin said, with a playful shooing motion. “Your friends are waiting for you. They haven’t even started the movie yet—Dina insisted.”

Ellie offered her a grateful smile and nodded. “Thanks,” she mumbled, already heading toward the stairs that led down to Jesse’s room.

Her sneakers creaked softly against the steps as she descended, the distant sound of laughter and muffled voices growing louder with each step. The low hum of a projector buzzing to life, the scent of buttered popcorn and something sweet—maybe Dina’s favorite honey candies—drifted through the air.

As Ellie stepped into the basement, the cozy hum of conversation and the flickering light from the projector washed over her. Jesse’s room was more like a den, with a large old sectional couch, mismatched cushions, and thick blankets strewn across the floor. A handful of kids lounged around, chatting quietly and tossing popcorn at one another.

“Ellie! You finally made it,” Dina called, her smile bright and easy. She patted the empty space beside her on the couch. “Come on, I saved you a seat.”

Ellie’s lips curled into a small smile as she crossed the room. “Didn’t realize I was so important,” she teased, dropping down beside her.

Jesse, lounging on the other side of Dina with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, gave Ellie a playful nudge with his foot. “Glad you came by, El. Now we can finally start the movie.”

He leaned toward Dina, mock-whispering, “This one refused to hit play until you showed up.”

Dina elbowed him lightly. “Because I have manners. You wait for all your guests, dummy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jesse muttered with a grin. He grabbed the remote and clicked it. The screen came to life with a flickering image, the grainy logo of an old horror film company appearing before the main menu loaded.

The DVD cover on the shelf had featured some hulking masked guy with a machete and a lot of blood. Most of the title was torn off, leaving only the number 3 barely visible in faded red lettering. Definitely a monster movie. Probably the kind Ellie used to sneak into when she lived in the QZ.

She had just started settling in when a soft voice piped up nearby.

“Mind if I squeeze in?”

Ellie turned her head and saw Cat standing there, holding a pillow to her chest. The dim light from the screen cast soft shadows over her face, highlighting the sharp line of her cheekbones and the delicate flick of ink on her collarbone.

Ellie blinked. “Uh—sure,” she said quickly, scooting over to make room. Dina sat up straight, her hand twitching like she was about to say something, but Ellie had already shifted, leaving enough space—barely—for Cat to sit.

Cat dropped onto the couch, practically half in Ellie’s lap. She leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper as she murmured, “Thanks.”

Ellie swallowed hard. Totally normal. Just a friendly sit. Her brain tried to keep it together, but she couldn’t ignore the gentle press of Cat’s thigh against hers, or the way she smelled like old books and lavender soap. It was soft and strangely intimate, like being pulled into a memory she’d never actually lived.

The room darkened further as someone hit the light switch. The movie started up with a shriek and a synth-heavy soundtrack, grainy and loud. Screams echoed off the basement walls.

Every time a jump scare hit, Cat flinched, letting out tiny gasps before curling closer to Ellie—hiding her face in the crook of her neck, her breath brushing hot against Ellie’s skin.

“Is it over yet?” Cat would whisper during the tense scenes, her fingers brushing lightly over Ellie’s arm… or her thigh… always just barely touching, always lingering a second too long.

Ellie sat stiffly, hyper-aware of every movement. Her cheeks burned. Thank god the lights were off. This means nothing, she told herself. Just a scared friend, not a big deal. Totally platonic. Yep. Platonic brushing of the inner thigh. Happens all the time.

She didn’t see it—but Dina did. The way Cat leaned in a little too close, the casual touches, the way Ellie tried not to smile even though she clearly was. Dina’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing as she watched from the other side of the couch.

“You aight, babe?” Jesse leaned over, murmuring the question against her ear.

Dina blinked, realizing her jaw was tight. Right—babe. She and Jesse were technically back together. For now.

“I’m fine,” she said, her tone smooth, her smile forced. She turned back toward the screen, her gaze flicking briefly—sharply—toward the two girls beside her.

Cat giggled softly at something onscreen, her fingers still ghosting along Ellie’s arm.

Meanwhile Ellie wasn’t sure what was more terrifying—the masked killer on the screen, or the sudden heat spreading in her chest.

The movie thundered on, all flashing blades and screams and blood-slick walls, but Ellie could barely focus on the screen. Every nerve in her body was tuned to Cat’s touch, every breath caught in her throat like a warning. It wasn’t just the accidental thigh brushes anymore—Cat had rested her head against Ellie’s shoulder, her dark hair spilling over the collar of Ellie’s shirt. She didn’t seem scared, not really. Just… comfortable. Too comfortable.

Ellie shifted slightly, trying to put a little space between them without making it obvious. But Cat only hummed and moved closer, her hand settling lightly over Ellie’s forearm. It wasn’t possessive, just soft. Thoughtless. But it made Ellie’s skin buzz like she'd stepped on a live wire.

Across the room, one of the other kids shrieked at a particularly gory scene and tossed popcorn into the air. It scattered across the floor as laughter bubbled up in the dark. Ellie laughed too—nervous and awkward—and Cat glanced up at her, smiling like she was in on some secret Ellie didn’t know.

“You’re warm,” Cat whispered, and Ellie felt herself go rigid.

“Yeah?” she croaked back, mentally slapping herself.

Cat nodded, then turned her eyes back to the movie, like it wasn’t the most loaded comment Ellie had ever heard.

Dina saw all of it. Her arms were crossed now, fingers digging into her sides. She hadn’t watched the screen in minutes. Instead, she was watching Ellie. Watching Cat. Watching something she didn’t like.

And Jesse? Clueless. He offered her a handful of popcorn and slung an arm around the back of the couch, thinking he was pulling her close. He wasn’t. She barely leaned in. Her focus was locked somewhere else.

“You good?” Jesse whispered again, offering a lopsided smile.

“Yeah,” Dina lied, the word dry on her tongue.

He smiled wider, content with her answer, his attention shifting back to the movie. But Dina’s didn’t. It stayed right where it had been—on Ellie.

Chapter 3: Welcome To Earth

Ellie sat hunched on a thick, moss-covered log, her fingers clumsily plucking at the guitar strings as the quiet sounds of nature swelled around her. The forest was calm—still, even. Pine trees towered above her, their needles rustling softly in the breeze, casting long, dappled shadows across the forest floor. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in golden slants, warm against her face. Somewhere in the distance, a creek babbled quietly, and birds chirped high in the canopy.

The air smelled clean. Like pine sap, wet moss, and a faint hint of smoke from the dying embers of last night’s fire.

Joel had taken her out here for her sixteenth birthday. Said he had a surprise planned. He’d been vague about the details, only telling her to pack light, bring the guitar, and prepare for a couple days away from Jackson. Ellie hadn’t argued. She liked the quiet of the wilderness. And she liked the time alone with Joel—just the two of them, away from everything else.

Her thumb slid awkwardly over the strings again, and the melody she was trying to coax out of the guitar came out jagged and uneven. She grimaced, shaking her head. “Shit.”

Before she could get too deep in her own frustration, Joel stepped out from the woods behind her. His boots crunched lightly over the underbrush, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder. His flannel sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and a sheen of sweat glistened at his temple—he must’ve been out scouting for a while.

“That’s startin’ to sound like somethin’,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he approached.

Ellie groaned and dropped her hands from the guitar. “Ugh, I suck.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and fond. “Nah. You just need to build up your calluses, that’s all.” He reached for a canteen at his belt and took a sip, offering it to her after.

She took it, eyeing her fingers. They were already calloused, rough from climbing fences and gripping knives, but guitar calluses were a different beast. She flexed her hand, squinting at the pads of her fingertips like they’d personally offended her. “Yeah, well, they better get their shit together soon,” she muttered, handing the canteen back.

Joel slung it over his shoulder and nodded toward the tree line. “All right. C’mon. It’s time.”

Ellie’s head snapped up. “This it?” she asked, her voice rising in excitement as she carefully set the guitar down on the log.

Joel’s face softened. “Yeah.”

“Oh, shit!” she grinned, scrambling up to her feet. “Okay, okay, I’m gonna start guessing.”

She jogged after him as he led the way, ducking under low-hanging branches and stepping carefully through tall grass and wildflowers. The woods were thick here, the light shifting as they moved. Ellie's shoes crunched over leaves, twigs, the occasional patch of gravel. A few butterflies danced through the air near her, flitting between shafts of sunlight like little embers.

Her mind buzzed with possibilities. A stash of untouched comic books? A perfectly preserved ice cream truck? A rocket ship? Maybe a rocket ship?

Before they’d left Jackson, some of her friends had surprised her with birthday gifts—small things, but they’d meant more to her than she could say.

Cat had given her a detailed drawing of Shimmer, the mare Ellie used to ride on patrols. The sketch was delicate, almost lifelike, drawn with charcoal and soft pencil. She’d even shaded in the scar over Shimmer’s flank. When she handed it to Ellie, she’d grinned and offered to do a tattoo for her—free of charge. The girl was covered in ink already, beautiful designs swirling over her arms and collarbone. She’d teased Ellie about the tattoos she “couldn’t see,” winking in a way that made the alpha’s face flush red and her stomach twist with nerves.

Ellie glanced down at her arm now, where the old chemical burn—bite, really—was still hidden beneath a clean wrap of bandage. Maybe it was time. Maybe a tattoo would help. Something to reclaim it. Something hers.

Jessie had gifted her a card and a copy of Savage Starlight—a special edition with bonus content in the back. She’d already read the comic a dozen times, but this one was pristine, and it had scenes she’d never seen before. Deleted panels. Sketches. Even some storyboards from an issue that was never released. She’d nearly cried when she opened it.

And then there was Dina.

Dina, who had made her a paper crown. Hand-folded from pages of an old gardening magazine, reinforced with twine and tape. Somehow—somehow—Dina had gotten the size exactly right. It fit like it had been made by someone who knew Ellie. Knew her enough to make it matter. It sat perfectly on her head when she put it on.

Ellie hadn’t brought it with her, of course, but she could still feel the weight of it.

Joel turned as he walked, facing her with that familiar, teasing grin on his face. “You wanna spoil your surprise now?”

Ellie squinted at him, her sneakers crunching lightly over dry twigs as they followed the worn path through the forest. She thought for a second, letting the quiet stretch between them.

“I dunno…” she started, cocking her head to the side like she was seriously considering it. “Is it… a dinosaur?”

Joel’s smile twitched. He spun around quickly so his back was to her again, hiding the way his jaw clenched to suppress a laugh. “Stop tryin’ to guess,” he said, voice tight with amusement. “I ain’t tellin’ you.”

Ellie smirked, skipping a little to keep up. “All right… is it… an elephant?”

Joel groaned under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. “Ugh. You’re gonna make me regret this.”

She grinned, undeterred. “A convertible, then? One of those cool ones with no roof—like in those old movies. You know, when the guy drives through the desert with a shotgun and a cigarette hangin’ out of his mouth?”

He chuckled but didn’t slow down, shifting his path along a narrow ledge that hugged the side of a rock face. “More walkin’, less talkin’,” he called over his shoulder. “Mind your step.”

“I got it,” she said confidently, hugging the stone wall as she started across. Her hands gripped the rough surface, boots sliding just a little on the wet patches of moss. She’s done this a hundred times. No big deal.

Then she was pushed.

“Shit—!”

With a loud splash, Ellie tumbled down into the river below, vanishing beneath the churning surface.

Joel leaned over the edge, hands on his knees, laughter already bubbling out of him. “Oops,” he said, not even trying to hide it.

Ellie came up sputtering, water dripping from her hair and nose as she flailed toward the shallows. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” she yelled, paddling furiously.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Joel managed between fits of laughter, clutching his sides like he might double over. “Like a cat gettin’ dunked in a bathtub.”

Ellie flipped him off with a wet, pruney hand as she swam toward the edge.

“What if I drowned?” she shouted.

Joel just shook his head, stepping along the edge to follow her progress. “You ain’t gonna drown. You gotta work on that confidence, kiddo.”

They’d been practicing for months—swimming, diving, staying afloat. Joel insisted it was a necessity. Said, “Can’t count on findin’ a damn board every time you wanna cross a river.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, teeth chattering just a little. “Yeah, yeah. Keep laughin’, old man. See what happens.”

Joel watched her strokes for a beat. “Your swimming’s gettin’ better. Remember—don’t just flail around. You gotta—”

“—‘push the water with your whole arm,’” she interrupted in a spot-on imitation of his voice. “Blah blah blah.”

He scoffed. “Glad to know I’m makin’ an impression.”

She reached the edge and hauled herself out of the water, her shoes squelching with every step, soaked jeans plastered to her legs. A chill crawled over her skin as the mountain air nipped at her through wet clothes. But she didn’t care. Her teeth chattered slightly, her breath came out in huffs, and all she could think about was revenge.

That moment came sooner than expected.

“Ellie, c’mere,” Joel whispered from just up the hill, crouched low behind a thicket of bushes. He waved her over urgently, his voice barely above the wind. “Take a look at this. You see that deer over there? Just through there, look.”

She padded toward him quietly, sneakers squishing in the wet grass. She peered past his shoulder.

“Where? Yeah… yeah, I see it…”

Then she glanced down. The river flowed lazily below the bluff where Joel was crouched. This was the moment.

“Looks like…” she said, then shoved him—hard.

“Whoa—hey—shit!” Joel yelped as he tumbled forward with a splash, vanishing into the river.

Ellie stepped back, arms folded, satisfied. Joel came up seconds later, sputtering, hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt clinging to him like soggy wrapping paper.

“How’s that feel?” she said, a smug grin spreading across her face.

“Refreshin’,” he replied between coughs, flashing her a look that was half mock offense, half amusement.

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Yeah, it’s not nice getting pushed in, is it?”

Joel grinned, wiping water from his eyes. “Well… hate to break it to you, but we needed to swim through this part anyway.”

Her face dropped. “No we didn’t.”

He shrugged, that shit-eating grin still planted firmly on his face. “Sure did.”

She scowled. “You’re just sayin’ that to make yourself feel better. You’re angry and upset.” 

He laughed and spun in the water toward the river’s bend. “I am very angry and very upset,” he said, deadpan, before calling back, “Now come on.”

She rolled her eyes but followed, diving back into the water. They swam side by side through the cool current, maneuvering around toppled trees, rusted-out car frames submerged in algae, and the occasional cluster of river weeds that clung to their legs like sea monsters. Ellie’s strokes were strong now—sloppy, maybe, but she was no longer afraid. Joel had seen to that.

When they finally pulled themselves up the muddy bank on the other side, both of them were dripping, panting, and a little out of breath. The sun filtered through the leaves overhead, casting dappled gold across the forest floor.

Ellie squeezed out her braid and huffed. “Okay. Round two.”

Joel looked over his shoulder warily. “Round two of what?”

“Guessing.”

He groaned. “Jesus…”

“Is it…” She scrunched her nose, brows pinching together. “My sixth-grade history teacher, finally showing up to apologize for being a massive dick?”

Joel turned his head slightly, baffled. “I beg your pardon?”

She grinned. “He always called the Fireflies terrorists. Me and my friend—we’d argue with him all the time. Got detention a lot.”

Joel muttered, “Shockin’.”

She laughed. “It wasn’t all bad. Me and Riley made a game out of it. You know, who could piss him off fastest.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, brushing a few leaves off his shoulder. “You really gotta stop lettin’ people rile you up so easy.”

She gave him a look. “It’s hard not to when they’re actual dicks.”

“Point still stands,” he said, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch weighed down by rain.

They trudged onward, boots squelching in the muddy underbrush, the forest around them thick and green and alive. Birds chirped overhead, and far off, something rustled in the ferns—probably a deer, maybe a raccoon. Nothing dangerous, Joel had made sure of that.

Still, Ellie wasn’t letting him off easy.

“Is it…” she tried, voice mischievous, “a new pair of sneakers?”

Joel let out a slow exhale, saying nothing.

“These ones are held together by tape and pure willpower,” she continued, nudging a rock with her toe. “Pretty sure they’re legally classified as fossils.”

He gave a grumble that might’ve been a laugh. Might’ve just been a sigh.

“Okay, fuck it. I’m done guessing.”

“Oh, good.” Joel didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm.

A beat passed.

“But like... is it a massive comic book collection? No—wait—DVDs. You found a new stash, didn’t you? Like, every episode of The Twilight Zone or some crap.”

Joel sighed again, louder this time. “Yes.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “Which one?”

“Just yes.”

She scoffed. “How about laserdiscs? Heard those are a thing.”

Joel grunted, pushing a branch out of his way.

They hiked on, stepping over a rotted log that had collapsed in the middle of the trail. A shaft of light broke through the trees, golden and warm, illuminating the moss-covered trunks ahead.

Then Ellie stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat as the trees gave way to a small clearing.

There, rising from the overgrowth like a sleeping giant, was the statue of a tyrannosaurus rex. Towering, moss-draped, and perfectly frozen in time, its massive stone jaws gaped open in an eternal roar. Vines hung from its ribs. Ferns brushed against its taloned feet. It was half-forgotten, half-sacred—like a shrine to a world long lost.

“Holy shit, Joel,” she whispered, eyes wide.

He stepped beside her, hands on his hips. “We’re here.”

“Oh my god,” she breathed, breaking into a jog. “It is a dinosaur!”

“That it is,” he said, watching her with a grin tugging at his mouth.

“Joel!” She spun toward him like he somehow hadn’t noticed the literal dinosaur in front of them. “There’s a giant-ass dinosaur right here!”

He gave a small chuckle, the kind that settled deep in his chest. “Surprise.”

“Holy shit… it’s a motherfucking dinosaur!”

She didn’t even wait. Ellie ran straight toward the statue, boots slapping through puddles and soft grass, coming to a halt at the base of the tail. Without hesitation, she began to climb, hands gripping the rough stone, fingers finding grooves in the aged sculpture like it was second nature.

Joel’s heart leapt into his throat. “Ellie! No—no, no, no, get down! You’re gonna fall and break your damn neck!”

But she only laughed, swinging her legs up and scrambling higher, scaling the statue like it was made just for her.

“I’m fine!” she shouted down, her voice giddy. “This thing is solid. Like, old-world solid.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t crumble under your dumb ass!”

She ignored him, reaching the top of the head and standing tall, arms stretched out wide like she was queen of the world. The wind tugged at her hoodie, and from up there, she could see everything—the forest stretching for miles, the tips of the museum roof peeking through the trees, the winding river they’d swum through glinting in the sunlight.

“Ellie! Get your ass down from there!”

But she didn’t even flinch. Balanced atop the tyrannosaurus statue like it was her own personal throne, Ellie spread her arms wide. “I’m on a motherfucking dinosaur!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the trees like a triumphant battle cry.

Before Joel could say another word, she grinned down at the pond below—and leapt.

“Ellie—!”

She plunged into the water with a loud splash, vanishing beneath the surface for a second before bursting up, laughing and gasping. Water streamed down her face, her soaked hoodie clinging to her arms.

“Did you see that?” she called, her face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy.

Joel stood on the edge of the water, hand pressed to his chest like he needed to manually restart his heart. He rubbed a hand down his face and muttered, “Yeah... I saw that.”

Ellie waded out, still laughing as she shook herself like a wet dog. “Bet that was the coolest thing you’ve seen in, like, years.”

He gave her a look. “Yeah. Right behind the time you almost got your fool self killed climbing on a goddamn dinosaur.”

Together they made their way toward the old museum building nestled in the trees. Time had not been kind to it—vines crept up the crumbling brick walls, the once-pristine windows were either shattered or fogged with decades of grime, and moss blanketed the stone steps like a living carpet. The carved letters over the arched entrance were still barely visible:

Wyoming Museum of Science & History.

Ellie craned her neck, marveling at the sheer size of the place. “This is so fuckin’ cool...”

Joel pushed open the heavy front doors, the creak echoing through the darkened halls. Inside, the air was still, stale with age but tinged with damp earth and dust. The natural light filtered in through gaps in the ceiling, casting golden beams down into the grand foyer.

The first thing they saw was a full-scale skeleton of a brachiosaurus, rearing up toward the high, domed ceiling. Its long neck stretched upward, jaw frozen mid-chew. Dust danced in the shafts of light as Ellie stepped beneath it, awestruck.

“Oh my god…” she whispered, tilting her head all the way back. “It’s huge.”

Joel nodded, hands in his pockets. “Brachiosaurus. Herbivore. Lived during the Jurassic. Stood about... forty feet tall, give or take.”

Ellie glanced at him. “What, you moonlight as a tour guide now?”

He smirked. “Read the plaque.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and moved on, sneakers squelching faintly against the damp tile. They passed glass cases full of fossil replicas and informational boards—some faded, others illegible. Most were tilted or covered in dust, but a few still showed vibrant images of dinosaur species mid-hunt or in migratory herds.

In one corner stood a triceratops, its three horns worn down by time but still fierce in silhouette. Another gallery held a velociraptor skeleton mid-pounce, claws extended. Ellie paused to stare at it, her gaze caught on the wicked curve of its talons.

“Damn… that’s some Jurassic Park shit.”

They wandered deeper into the exhibit hall. More dioramas followed—some still intact, others collapsed into piles of plaster and dirt. A T-Rex head jutted from the wall like it had broken through it, its glass eyes missing but its teeth still sharp.

Joel kept quiet as Ellie ran ahead, touching everything, taking it all in like she was five years old again.

“Did you go to museums a lot?” she asked as they climbed a staircase wrapped in ivy, stepping around broken bits of display.

“Yeah,” he said after a pause, his voice softer now. “Sarah loved ‘em.”

He chuckled, the sound bittersweet. “I swear that girl dragged me to every damned museum in Texas. Art museums, science museums… one time, we spent four hours lookin’ at rocks.”

Ellie grinned. “She sounds cool.”

“She was,” Joel said quietly.

The hallway opened into another grand room—this one filled with dioramas of early mammals and giant sloths, all paused in mid-movement, like someone had hit pause on time. The skylight above them was cracked, but it let in enough sunlight to cast dramatic shadows across the exhibits.

Ellie stood in front of a saber-toothed cat, her hands on her hips. “Man… nature was metal.”

Joel laughed. “Still is.”

They moved from one room to the next, following faded signs and ancient arrows pointing toward the gift shop and café, both long empty. Ellie found a dusty souvenir coin machine, turning the crank until it spit out a warped penny embossed with a T-Rex.

Ellie held up the misshapen coin to the light, brushing the dust off with her thumb. The image of the T-Rex was faint but still visible, pressed into the copper like a ghost from a better time.

“Look at this,” she said, showing it to Joel. “Limited edition collector’s item.”

He squinted at it, unimpressed. “Looks like it got run over by a tank.”

“Vintage,” she corrected, slipping it into her pocket. “That’s what makes it valuable.”

Joel shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “Sure. You gonna start a collection now?”

“Damn right I am,” she said, already scanning the room for more forgotten treasures.

They wandered further in, the museum dim and half-swallowed by nature. Roots had forced their way through the cracks in the floor, creeping like veins across the tile. Ferns had sprouted in forgotten corners, fed by the slow drip of rain from the broken ceiling above. It felt less like a ruin and more like the forest had grown up inside the walls, reclaiming it.

The next exhibit was a mock-up of prehistoric Earth—low lighting and piped-in ambient sounds that, somehow, still worked. A soft, low hum played from the cracked speakers overhead: insect chirps, distant thunder, and the deep, throaty growls of dinosaurs, looping faintly in the background.

Ellie’s mouth fell open as she stepped inside.

There were massive fiberglass models of dinosaurs here—nearly life-size. A stegosaurus with its plated spine stood mid-step near a display on herbivore migration. A pteranodon hung suspended from the ceiling, wings spread wide and dust clinging to its beak. The lights flickered gently, casting a surreal glow over the entire diorama, like stepping into a half-remembered dream.

“Holy shit,” Ellie breathed. “It’s like… they just walked out for a second. Like they’ll be back any minute.”

Joel stood behind her, quieter now. “They did a hell of a job with this place.”

She walked slowly past the exhibits, eyes wide. A little kiosk nearby held faded pamphlets, some with cartoonish illustrations of dinosaurs and grinning kids on the front. Ellie picked one up and flipped through it, the paper crinkling in her hands.

“Check this out,” she said, pointing to one panel. “Says a stegosaurus had a brain the size of a walnut.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Guess he wouldn’t’ve made it long in your world.”

Ellie smirked. “Bet he still had better taste in music than you.”

They passed under an arch that read “Cretaceous Creatures!”, and came into a room that had clearly been meant for kids. Low benches, colorful wall murals, a little animatronic ankylosaurus in the center that probably once moved and growled—now frozen stiff and missing one eye.

Ellie sat on the bench beside it, dragging her fingers along the scuffed surface. “Man… I wish I’d seen this before everything went to hell.”

Joel sat beside her with a grunt, the old wood creaking beneath his weight. “Would’ve liked to bring Sarah here,” he said, his voice quiet, almost to himself.

Ellie looked over at him, catching the shadow in his expression. She didn’t say anything, just sat with him in the hush of the museum. For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist—no infected, no walls, no patrols.

Just a girl and her old man, surrounded by the ghosts of creatures long gone.

“C’mon,” Ellie said eventually, rising to her feet and brushing off her knees. “There’s more to explore.”

They moved deeper into the building, their boots echoing off the stone floor as they followed faded signs and peeling paint. Vines crept along the edges of the ceiling, and broken glass crunched underfoot as they passed shattered display cases, long since scavenged or worn down by time. A faded banner hung from the rafters—“Explore the Final Frontier!”—its corners curled with moisture and age.

They rounded a corner and stepped into a new hallway. It was pitch black at first—so dark Ellie instinctively reached for Joel’s sleeve—but then, slowly, the room came alive.

Tiny lights blinked on overhead, soft and cool. Stars. Hundreds of tiny fiber-optic pinpricks spread across the ceiling like a slice of night sky. Galaxies swirled in painted murals along the walls. Neon planets hung suspended in the darkness: Jupiter’s swirling storm, Saturn with its perfect rings, the cold beauty of Neptune. A soft ambient hum played beneath it all—like the distant rush of static, like space breathing.

Ellie’s brow furrowed, her feet pulling her forward as if on instinct. “What the hell…”

She let out a breathless gasp. “Did you know this was here?!”

Joel stepped in behind her, eyes adjusting to the dim light. “You don’t like it,” he said quietly, already turning back toward the hall. “We can head out, if you want.”

“Shut up!” Ellie snapped, shoving him in the side before running ahead like a kid again. Her boots hit the floor with light, quick steps as she dashed to the nearest exhibit. “Are you kidding me?! This is fucking awesome!”

The space wing was miraculously intact. Its displays, sealed in thick plexiglass and protected from the elements, still gleamed under the starry ceiling. Posters of old NASA missions—faded but legible—lined the walls. There were scale models of rockets: the Saturn V, the Apollo lander, the shuttle Endeavour. Panels explained the missions in small, neat text. Ellie drank in every word like it was scripture.

She reached the lunar rover display and didn’t hesitate—she climbed right up into the seat, gripping the dusty joystick with both hands, her eyes wide with joy.

“Fuck yeah,” she whispered, twisting the controls back and forth like she was navigating the craters of the moon.

Joel walked over, studying the odd little machine. “Where’s the steering wheel?”

Ellie looked at him like he’d just asked where the horses were on a jet plane. “Rovers don’t use steering wheels. They use joysticks.”

She jiggled it again, making beep-boop noises under her breath. “Engaging lunar drive,” she said in a dramatic tone. “Houston, I am speed.”

“Huh.” Joel crossed his arms, nodding slowly. “Hang on. Is this the real one?”

Ellie gave him the flattest look she could manage. “Considering they left the real ones on the moon, I’m gonna say no.”

He grinned, unbothered, as she hopped down and moved to the next exhibit—a row of astronaut suits, each one upright behind thick glass. The suits represented different missions, different countries. One was the iconic white NASA EVA suit with its bright blue patches. Another had red detailing, Cyrillic lettering faded but still visible—a Russian suit. A third was bright orange, labeled “XEMU Prototype.”

Ellie studied them all with reverent eyes, reading the placards beneath each one. “I always wanted to travel,” she murmured. “Not like patrol travel, but, like... real travel. Paris. Tokyo. Fucking space.”

Her gaze landed on a helmet displayed on a low podium. Sleek. Silver. Retro-futuristic. She lifted it carefully, brushing the dust off the visor before slipping it over her head.

“So cool,” she whispered, her voice muffled behind the glass.

Joel walked over and gave the top of the helmet a light pat. “How’s it smell in there?”

“Like space!” she said proudly—then added, quieter, “...and dust.”

She took it off and turned toward the centerpiece of the room—a life-size lunar module, its metallic sides gleaming under the artificial starlight. The hatch was slightly ajar, and Ellie gave it a gentle tug. It creaked, but opened.

“No way...” she whispered.

She shrugged off her backpack and ducked inside, crawling into the cramped interior. Joel followed a moment later, grumbling as he squeezed through the narrow opening.

“Christ, it’s like a damn coffin in here.”

The interior was barely big enough for the two of them. It smelled like old plastic and machine oil. Dust coated the control panels, but the buttons and levers were still there, labeled with small, clean type. Ellie immediately started poking at them.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, flicking a dusty switch. “I mean, dinosaurs are cool, but space? That’s something else.”

Joel looked around, surprisingly quiet. He could see it—what this place meant to her. What it must feel like, to step into a dream. For a moment, he almost wished he’d brought Sarah here, too.

The auburn-haired girl began making noises with her mouth—low rumbles, sharp whooshes, the occasional high-pitched beep—trying to mimic what she imagined a spaceship would sound like. She twisted knobs, flicked levers, and bounced slightly in her seat like they were breaking through the stratosphere. It probably sounded nothing like the real thing, but it didn’t matter. There wasn’t an astronaut in sight to tell her otherwise.

Joel leaned back against the metal frame of the module chair, watching her with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small audio cassette wrapped in a scrap of cloth to keep it safe. He held it out to her.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Ellie paused mid-sound effect, blinking. “What is this?” she asked, taking the tape and turning it over in her hands, the faded label barely legible.

“This is a thing that took a mighty effort to find,” he said, eyes glinting with something quiet and warm. “Trust me.”

Ellie quickly unzipped her bag and pulled out her battered Walkman, popping the cassette into the slot. She plugged in her headphones and adjusted them over her ears.

“Close your eyes,” Joel said softly. “It’ll be worth it.”

She looked at him for a second, something curious in her expression, then nodded and did as she was told. Her lashes fluttered shut. The tape clicked and began to play.

A crackling silence, then a voice—official and precise, clipped with static:

“Thirty seconds and counting. Astronauts report it feels good.”

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat.

“T-minus twenty-five seconds. Twenty seconds and counting. T-minus fifteen seconds, guidance is internal…”

Her fingers curled around the edges of the seat. Her body stilled. The sounds filled her ears completely, blocking out everything else. She could feel it—the tension, the countdown, the shuddering energy of history being made.

“Twelve... eleven... ten... nine... ignition sequence starts… six, five, four, three, two, one, zero…”

A low roar rose in her headphones. A rumble that grew and grew—

“All engine running. Liftoff. We have a liftoff! Thirty-two minutes past the hour, liftoff on Apollo 11.”

Ellie squeezed her eyes tighter, pretending the shaking of the rocket was real. She could feel it rumbling in her chest, lifting her out of gravity’s grasp. She imagined herself shooting into the sky, out of Earth’s atmosphere, all the way to the stars. Then, just as quickly, the roar faded… replaced by stillness. Quiet.

The silence of space.

She sat there for a long beat, breathing slowly, holding the feeling close.

“I do okay?” Joel asked quietly, watching her with a soft, nervous smile.

Ellie pulled the headphones down around her neck. Her eyes shimmered, not quite tears, but something close. She stared at him like he’d handed her the moon.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. They both did, the kind of laugh that echoes louder than it is, because of where it comes from.

They climbed out of the module, Ellie still buzzing with excitement, her face split in a grin. Joel lingered near the exit to the room, reaching into his pocket one last time.

He handed her something small—round, metallic, the enamel chipped in places but still vivid. A badge. A space shuttle, arcing toward a tiny moon.

“Hey,” he said, offering it to her with a gentle nod. “Welcome to Earth.”

Ellie stared at it, speechless. Her fingers traced the worn edges like it was treasure. She didn’t say anything, just pinned it to the front strap of her backpack with a quiet sort of reverence.

She’d be showing this to everyone when they got back to Jackson.

Ellie broke into a light jog as she headed toward the large double doors at the far end of the exhibit hall. She shoved them open with a triumphant shout. “Come on, Joel!” she called, her voice echoing through the quiet space. “Let’s see what else this place has to offer!”

But the moment the doors creaked open, sunlight flooded the room—and Ellie froze in place.

What used to be a tiled hallway leading to the museum’s east wing was now nothing more than a broken platform, jagged and cracked from years of erosion and collapse. Just beyond the threshold was open air, and below, a pool of murky rainwater shimmered in the light, having long since swallowed the floor that had once connected the buildings.

Ellie stepped to the edge, boots skidding a little on the slick concrete. “Whoa…” she breathed, peering down. Then she pointed to the far side, where the second wing of the museum stood on the other side of the flooded chasm. Its roof sagged in some places, vines wrapped around columns and doors, but the architecture still held a quiet dignity.

“There’s more museum stuff over there,” she said, eyes wide with possibility.

Joel followed her to the threshold and looked out over the gap. He rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head. “I never checked out that building,” he muttered. “Figured it wasn’t stable.”

Ellie turned to him, excitement dancing in her eyes. “Let’s go!”

Joel let out a laugh, glancing down at the drop. “And just how do you plan on getting yourself over there, huh?”

Ellie stepped back a few feet. Her gaze dropped to the water below—murky, sure, but not that far down. And then, without warning, she took a running leap.

“Ellie—!”

She launched herself off the edge with a yell, arms flailing a little before she hit the surface with a splash that sent ripples across the entire pool.

Joel leaned over the edge, already bracing for disaster. “Ellie! God! You ever give anyone else this much grief?!”

Her head popped up above the surface, grinning wildly as she swam for the far side. “Get down here!”

“No!”

“Hey, whose birthday is it?” she called, flashing a smirk over her shoulder.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose and gave her a long, unamused stare. “You can’t keep doin’ that!”

“I want a good splash!” she called back, slapping the water. “C’mon! We’ve got more exploring to do!”

Joel muttered under his breath, casting a glance skyward like he was asking for divine patience. But after a beat, he gave in with a muttered curse. “Geronimo!” he barked, and jumped.

His body hit the water with a thunderous splash, soaking Ellie all over again. She cackled, brushing water out of her face.

“Nice form,” she said.

“Don’t mock me,” Joel grumbled, slicking his hair back.

They made their way to the other side of the building, pulling themselves out of the water and onto a crumbling path choked with moss and old roots. The door leading inside was heavy and locked tight, rusted shut with years of disuse. Joel gave it a few shoves with his shoulder before stepping back, shaking his head.

“No good.”

Ellie looked up and pointed at a window on the second floor. The glass was broken out, and a bit of wood stuck jagged from the frame. “Hey! Boost me up there.”

Joel frowned. “Yeah, I don’t know...”

“Come on,” Ellie pressed. “I’ll just unlock the door from the inside. Don’t go chickenin’ out on me now.”

Joel looked at the overgrown entry, the shadows curling just beyond the windows. This part of the museum was untouched. No cleared paths, no signs anyone had been through here in decades. His gut told him this was asking for trouble.

Still...

He groaned and crouched, lacing his fingers together. “All right. But you get in there, and if you so much as hear a squeak, you get your ass out.”

Ellie nodded. “Deal.”

She stepped into his hands, and with a grunt, he lifted her up toward the window. Ellie grabbed the ledge, pulled herself through the jagged opening, and disappeared inside.

Seconds passed.

Joel took a cautious step back, watching the window. “You in?”

“Yeah!” her voice echoed faintly. “I’m in!”

Inside, Ellie dropped lightly to the floor, eyes adjusting to the gloom. Dust floated in the air, the light filtering through shattered windows in narrow beams. She turned to the main doors—and groaned.

“Okay. Bad news,” she shouted. “There’s shit blocking the door!”

Joel closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, I knew this was a bad idea.”

“There’s a beam or something in the way! I can’t move it!”

Joel huffed, already walking the perimeter. “See if you can find me another way in. I’ll look for another entrance around back!”

“You got it!” Ellie called, already heading deeper into the dusty halls, flashlight in hand.

Ellie moved cautiously through the dim corridor, the soles of her sneakers squelching faintly against the damp, warped flooring. The only light came in narrow beams from the cracked ceiling above—thin golden shafts that danced with motes of dust, like tiny stars drifting in slow motion. The air was thick, musty with rot and time. Old leaves and bird droppings had blown in through broken windows, collecting in the corners like forgotten memories.

She flicked her flashlight on, its narrow beam cutting a swath through the gloom. As she rounded the next corner, the cone of light settled on a sudden shape—large, looming, and still.

She froze, heart skipping before she realized what it was.

A moose.

Stuffed. Tall and proud, the animal stood frozen mid-stride, glass eyes catching the flashlight and reflecting it back in a ghostly gleam. Around its legs, five wolves stalked in a loose circle—also taxidermied, their snarling mouths curled in a permanent snarl, white teeth bared and fur mottled with age. Dust clung to their hides, making them look like specters more than animals.

Ellie approached the scene slowly, letting her flashlight drift over each animal in turn. She leaned toward the moose and whispered under her breath, “Stay strong, buddy. You got this.”

She gave the nearest wolf a sideways glance and moved on, passing through the silent forest of glassy-eyed creatures. A massive bear stood half-upright near the far wall, arms raised in a mock attack pose. Owls lined a narrow ledge overhead, their wings spread as though frozen mid-flight.

As she stepped deeper into the exhibit, Ellie’s flashlight beam caught on something else—words, hastily scrawled on the cracked concrete wall just ahead. She took a few steps forward and squinted, heart thudding now for a different reason.

“I KILLED FOR THEM.”

The message was jagged, uneven. The strokes were thick and dark, painted—or smeared—across the wall with something heavy. It might’ve been rust-colored paint. Or dried blood. In the murky light, it was hard to tell.

She stepped closer, trying to make out more. The surrounding wall was fractured, vines curling in through a crack in the corner. The paint had started to peel around the edges of the writing, as though the message had been here a long time, but not long enough to be forgotten.

Ellie stood there for a beat longer, staring.

Then she shook her head—whether in dismissal or discomfort, even she didn’t know—and turned away.

“Okay…” she murmured, gripping the flashlight tighter. “Let’s go find the old man.”

She crept deeper into the bowels of the abandoned museum, the air growing cooler and heavier the farther she moved from the light. The thin shafts of sun had vanished now, swallowed by layers of collapsed roofing and dust-thick air. Her flashlight swayed in her grip, casting long, distorted shadows that danced over old plaques and faded informational signs.

She moved slowly, careful to keep her steps quiet, almost reverent. The museum had changed—it no longer felt like a place of wonder and relics, but something hollowed out, haunted.

More writing appeared on the walls as she turned the corner into another exhibit hall. Scribbled in rough, erratic strokes:

“They made me do it.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“I hear them in the dark.”

Each message looked hastier than the last, as if written by a hand that trembled—or panicked. The paint—or whatever it was—had dried in thick, crusted streaks. Some letters trailed off mid-sentence. The flashlight’s beam lingered over one: “I killed, and I killed—” The rest was smeared into nothing.

Ellie swallowed hard.

Then, crash.

A sudden, violent noise echoed from somewhere ahead—metal on stone, something toppling over in the dark. Ellie jumped, immediately drawing her pistol with practiced hands, her heart thudding hard against her ribs. She swept the flashlight’s beam left and right, illuminating only ruined benches and animal displays fallen to decay.

Nothing moved.

“Shit...” she muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip on the flashlight, now slick with sweat.

She held her ground, breathing slow and quiet. If it was an infected, it would’ve rushed her by now.

Unless...

Her mind flashed with the thought. Stalkers. Creeping, waiting, breathing just out of sight.

God, she hated those fucking things.

Another breath, slower this time. She forced herself to move forward, eyes straining to catch even the slightest twitch in the shadows. Her flashlight flickered as she ducked down and crawled through a narrow breach in the crumbled wall, the concrete jagged where time and nature had split it apart.

She emerged into a new exhibit room and—

“Shit!” she gasped, jerking back with her gun raised.

A wolf stared back at her, snarling, teeth bared, eyes locked.

Ellie panted, shoulders tensed, her pulse in her ears.

It didn’t move.

“Oh, you son of a bitch...” she muttered, lowering her gun slowly.

The wolf was just another taxidermy mount, caught in an eternal lunge, its fur stiff with dust and time. She stared at it for a moment longer, letting her breathing settle.

“Gonna give me a heart attack,” she said, brushing past it with a wary glance, “and not in the fun ‘Joel-yells-at-me’ kinda way.”

She turned her flashlight to the rest of the room—more frozen figures lined the space: a mountain lion crouched behind fake brush, a coyote standing watch at the edge of a painted diorama. All frozen in time. All eerily lifelike in the half-light.

Ellie moved slowly now, her shoes crunching softly on old debris. She rounded a corner and stopped short—her toe caught on something solid.

She stumbled forward, flashlight jolting. She caught herself just in time, her beam swinging down.

Bones.

A human skeleton lay crumpled on the floor, half-covered in leaves and dirt that had crept in over time. What remained of the person’s clothes hung in tatters, fused into the floor by time and damp. A dry, brittle ribcage peeked out from under a moth-eaten jacket.

Beside the corpse, resting just beyond their outstretched hand, was a folded, yellowed piece of paper.

Ellie hesitated for a moment before crouching and picking it up. Her fingers brushed the paper, careful not to tear it as she unfolded it under her flashlight’s glow. Her eyes scanned the faded ink, lips parting slightly as she read:

"We wanted to end suffering. We wanted to restore humanity. Each time we sacrificed part of ourselves, our leaders kept saying, 'It'll be worth it.'

Now we’ve disbanded. With nothing to show for our sins.

I thought coming here might reignite something. Some purpose.
My parents loved bringing me here.
It’s one of my earliest memories from before the outbreak.
Before all of the cruelty and savagery.

Those memories just made me angrier.

I don’t want to be in this world anymore.
I can’t look at the person I’ve become."

Ellie let out a long breath. She stared down at the bones, the note still in her hand.

“Christ…” she whispered, eyes lingering on the outstretched hand, now forever reaching for something that never came.

She stood up slowly, folding the note with more care than she thought she was capable of, and slid it gently into her pack. Just ahead, she spotted a door—old and rusted, but still intact. The faint outline of EXIT was stenciled above it, nearly lost beneath vines and grime.

But just as she took a step toward it—

SCREEEEEEEECH!

A sudden, earsplitting shriek tore through the quiet, making Ellie’s heart leap to her throat. A shape shot out from the shadows, slamming into her side with enough force to send her sprawling onto the ground. Her flashlight clattered across the floor, spinning in wild circles of light.

“Shit!” she shouted, scrambling to grab her pistol—but then she saw it:

A bore.

It waddled away, squealing like it owned the place, its scraggly body disappearing into the darkness.

“Fucking asshole!” Ellie called after it, her voice cracking slightly with adrenaline. She sat up, dusting herself off and glaring at the bastard, even though it was long gone.

Still catching her breath, she stood. Her flashlight landed on the far wall—and her stomach twisted.

The Firefly symbol had been painted in red. Worn, cracked, but unmistakable.

Just beneath it, in jagged red letters:
LIARS.

The paint dripped like blood.

Ellie stared at it for a long moment, jaw clenched, a hundred feelings rising up all at once—anger, guilt, confusion. Her hand reflexively touched the spot on her wrist, the faded scar just beneath her bandage.

Then—BANG.

The exit door slammed open with a metallic groan, bouncing off its hinges. Light poured in like a flood, casting the long shadows of vines and dust motes dancing in the air.

Joel’s voice rang out, laced with panic. “Ellie?!”

She blinked, the trance broken, and turned her head slowly.

He was standing in the doorway, chest rising and falling fast, eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. He let out a sigh, one hand on his knee as the tension drained from his body.

“You alright?” he asked, walking toward her. His voice was low now, softer—relief tempered by concern.

“Yeah,” she replied after a moment, her voice flat, distant. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Joel followed her gaze, his eyes landing on the Firefly symbol painted on the wall—the word LIARS scrawled beneath in that blood-colored red. His expression shifted, like a shadow had passed over him. The room seemed to grow colder, quieter. Even the buzzing of insects outside seemed to pause.

He didn’t say anything for a long beat.

Then he cleared his throat. “Well... let’s get a move on. I wanna get a fire goin’ before it gets too dark.” He turned, giving her a gentle nudge on the arm before starting toward the door, boots crunching on the old leafs scattered across the floor.

Ellie didn’t move.

He stopped at the doorway and glanced back, the afternoon sun haloing his figure in gold. “C’mon,” he said, jerking his head toward the light.

Ellie gave the wall one last look. The painted wings. The accusation in red. It stuck in her chest like a stone, heavy and stubborn. But there was nothing left to say to it.

She adjusted her pack and followed Joel out the door, stepping into the warmth of the dying day.

---

The stars blinked quietly above them, scattered like bits of shattered glass across the deep navy sky. Crickets chirped in the tall grass just beyond their camp, and somewhere far off, the croak of a frog echoed through the stillness. A soft breeze rustled the leaves overhead, whispering through the trees like old ghosts sharing secrets.

The fire crackled low between them, glowing amber and orange, casting flickering shadows that danced along the trunks of the surrounding trees. Joel sat hunched over, poking the embers with a stick, his face half-lit by flame, the lines around his eyes deepened by the dim glow. Smoke curled lazily into the night air.

“So, uh,” he started, not looking at her. “How you like your gift, kiddo?” He gave the fire another prod, sending a few sparks spiraling up into the dark.

Ellie sat across from him on a fallen log, arms draped over her knees, her face unreadable. Her eyes were distant, reflecting the flickering light. “I loved it,” she said after a pause, her voice quiet, thoughtful. Honest.

And she did love it. Every bit of it—the dinosaurs, the space exhibits, the taped launch, even the stupid joystick. It had been magic, like stepping into the pages of a book that had somehow come alive just for her. But then the Firefly symbol had brought her crashing back to Earth. That damned emblem etched on the wall like a scar. And now that scar throbbed quietly in the back of her mind.

She wanted to ask. About them. About the truth. But she already knew how it would go. She asks a question, Joel dodges it, says just enough to get by. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Joel, oblivious to the storm behind her eyes, smiled at her answer, clearly proud of himself. “I knew you would,” he said, his voice a low hum of satisfaction. He reached down beside him, grabbing a handful of dry twigs and tossing them into the fire. The flames flared, briefly painting their surroundings in warm gold.

“Oh!” Joel suddenly exclaimed, patting around his bag like he’d just remembered something important. “Before I forget—”

Ellie raised an eyebrow as he fished out a small, clear plastic bag, pulling it free with care. Inside was a slightly crumpled, suspiciously lopsided object the color of dirt with what might’ve once been frosting smudged along the top. A squat candle was jammed into it at an awkward angle.

“The fuck is that?” Ellie laughed, leaning forward for a better look.

Joel grimaced, holding it like it might fall apart. “It was a cupcake…”

“Cupcake?” She tilted her head. “The fuck is that?” 

Joel began rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s like a regular cake, just... smaller.”

She squinted. “Why would anyone make a cake smaller on purpose?”

Joel chuckled, settling down next to her. “I don’t know. People liked things like that back then. Tiny foods, novelty crap. Made ‘em feel special, I guess.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “People from your time were weird.”

“Trust me,” he grinned. “I know.” He held up the candle, taking a sliver of burning stick from the fire and carefully lighting the tiny wick. The flame sputtered before catching, the candle glow joining the soft flicker of the campfire.

He cleared his throat. “Happy birthday to you—” he began, his voice a bit gruff but sincere.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard. “The fuck are you doing, Joel?”

“I’m singin’,” he said, unfazed, gesturing toward the candle. “It’s part of the tradition. You get a cake, a candle, someone sings, you blow it out and make a wish.”

She stared at him. “Why would you sing it? And the hell is the candle for? We have a fire.”

Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. “It’s just how it’s done. I know it’s dumb, but—just let me finish, alright?”

Ellie smirked, shaking her head, but she didn’t stop him.

So he sang. Off-key, slow, but with a kind of quiet warmth in his tone that made Ellie bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too wide. When he finished, he gave her a small nod toward the flickering candle. “Go on. Make a wish.”

She looked at him, then at the cupcake. The flame danced in the wind, casting soft shadows over her face. She hesitated.

What would she even wish for? She’d never been the type to hope for things that didn’t matter. Most wishes didn’t keep you alive. Didn’t feed you. Didn’t protect the people you loved. But still... the moment felt important, like something from another life.

She leaned forward and blew the candle out.

Joel smiled, eyes crinkling. “Did ya make a wish?”

Ellie leaned back, staring into the night. Her voice was soft. “Yeah,” she said. “I did.”

Joel looked over at Ellie, her face half-lit by the firelight, a thoughtful crease between her brows. He smiled softly.

“Good,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Now don’t tell no one what you wished for… or else it won’t come true.”

It was something Sarah used to say every year, without fail. Even when she got too old to really believe in it. She’d blow out the candles, grin like she had some big secret, and wag a finger at him like she was the one raising him. Don’t tell, or it won’t come true.

He felt a sharp tug in his chest, and his smile faded slightly. His hand went to his temple, rubbing at the spot like he could scrub away the memory before it hurt too much. But it lingered, as always. Sarah. Always.

Clearing his throat, he straightened a bit. “So… now that you’re sixteen…” he started casually, poking at the embers with a stick, “I think it’s time for the talk.”

Ellie blinked. “The talk?” she repeated, a hint of suspicion already in her voice.

Joel nodded, trying—and failing—to hide his grin. “Yep. You see... as alphas…” he said, mock-serious, “we start to get these urges.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Nope.” She shot forward, pressing her hand firmly over his mouth. “No. We are not doing this.”

He burst into laughter against her palm, his shoulders shaking. “C’mon now,” he managed once she let go, “listen, kiddo. I’m just sayin’... be careful, alright? Don’t want any accidents.”

Ellie groaned, already burying her face in her hands. “Joel.”

“I’m just sayin’,” he shrugged. “Shit happens. That’s how I ended up with Sarah, you know.” His smile turned more wistful. “I was young. Dumb. Thought I knew everything.”

“Please stop,” Ellie muttered, now covering her ears and humming loudly to block him out.

“It’s completely natural,” Joel added, clearly enjoying himself.

“I said stop!” she groaned, flopping back on the log and staring up at the sky like it might rescue her from this conversation.

He held up both hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright—I’m done. Promise.”

After a moment, she cautiously peeked at him, making sure he was actually finished before removing her hands from her ears. Joel just chuckled, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to worry about any grandkids, old man,” she said with a smirk, jabbing a stick into the fire. Sparks popped up and vanished into the dark. “I won’t be getting with anyone.”

Joel raised a brow, glancing at her sideways. “Why not? I figured you were sweet on that Jesse boy, always hangin’ around his house.”

She shook her head, the amusement gone from her expression. “Because…” she sighed, voice quieter now. “I don’t know how this shit works.”

Her fingers brushed over the bandage that hid her bite, like she could feel it pulsing beneath the fabric. “If infected can spread it through saliva and whatever… who’s to say I can’t?”

Joel was silent, the weight of her words settling like ash in the air.

He hadn’t thought of that. Not really. It was easy to forget sometimes, that she carried something inside her—something that could’ve ended her, but didn’t. That should’ve turned her, but didn’t.

“It’s… dormant in you,” he said slowly. “The Fireflies said it mutated, remember? That’s why they thought you could make a cure. I don’t think it spreads anymore. Not like that.”

Ellie didn’t look convinced.

He scratched his beard, thinking. “I mean, we could test it. Maybe… I dunno, get a squirrel or somethin’. Put your saliva in its mouth—see what happens.”

She turned and gave him a look so deadpan, it nearly flattened him. “I am not turning some poor squirrel into a fucking zombie guinea pig.”

Joel barked a laugh. “Alright, alright, bad idea.”

She shook her head, lying back on the grass, arms crossed behind her head as she stared up at the canopy. “Better to be safe than sorry,” she muttered. “Anyway, we got a long ride ahead. We should sleep.”

He gave a small grunt of agreement, moving to his own bedroll—just a pile of blankets and an old coat. He settled down onto it with a sigh, the stiffness of age catching up to him.

“Goodnight, kiddo,” he said softly.

“Goodnight,” she mumbled back, already halfway asleep.

The fire crackled quietly between them, and above, the stars blinked on in silence. Neither of them moved. But both, in their own quiet way, kept thinking.

Chapter 4: She Likes Me

The bedroom smelled faintly of ink and eucalyptus—a calming mix that somehow made Ellie’s nerves both settle and sharpen. She sat near the center of the room, her eyes sweeping over every surface like they were trying to memorize something sacred. The walls were a patchwork of creativity—pages torn from sketchbooks, canvases covered in oil paints, charcoal smudges, and vivid colors layered thick. Portraits of wolves, moody landscapes, people she didn’t recognize, and abstract shapes bled together in a chaotic but oddly comforting collage. Ellie didn’t know shit about art, but even she could tell that Cat was stupidly talented.

The low buzz of a portable heater hummed in the background, its warmth making the small space feel even more intimate. She looked down, exhaling through her nose as Cat carefully dragged the razor over the soft skin of her forearm, sweeping away the light layer of hair with smooth, practiced motions. Each pass was gentle but deliberate, the omega clearly taking her time.

Ellie’s heartbeat thudded a little louder than usual. She wasn’t sure if it was from the anticipation of the needle, or the fact that Cat’s fingers were brushing against her skin like they were meant to be there. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but her jaw twitched slightly.

It had taken a couple of weeks and a lot of quiet, lingering moments for Ellie to work up the nerve to say yes to a tattoo. She’d made a dumb joke about tattoos, about how she wouldn’t mind a free one, and Cat—ever confident—had called her bluff. Ellie had tried to offer something in return. Trade, labor, supplies. But Cat had just smiled and said, “I like drawing on things. Think of it as my good deed of the month.”

When Cat set the razor aside, she leaned in a little, inspecting the skin with a thoughtful hum. Her fingers ghosted across the flesh, tracing the raised, mangled texture of the old scar. The scarring wasn't pretty. Jagged, uneven. A twisted ring that no longer held the shape of a bite but still whispered what it had once been.

Cat’s brows pulled together. “So, what happened?” she asked, her voice soft but curious, her gaze fixed on the ruined skin.

Ellie’s mouth went dry. Her jaw clenched instinctively, memories surging forward like a wave: the stench of chemicals, Maria’s cold voice, the grip of Joel and Tommy’s arms around her as she thrashed. She could still feel the taste of the rag stuffed in her mouth to keep her from screaming. Still hear the hiss of the acid, the sizzle of flesh, the way her whole body had trembled after.

She forced herself to breathe. “Chemical burn,” she muttered, keeping her voice flat.

Cat didn’t say anything at first. Just nodded, gently brushing her thumb across the area once more before reaching for the stencil. Ellie tried not to flinch at the touch. Her body wasn’t used to being handled like that—not tenderly, at least.

She watched as Cat peeled the backing off the stencil and pressed it carefully to her skin. She was quiet, focused, her head bent in concentration, the tip of her tongue just barely peeking out between her lips as she smoothed the design over the scar tissue. She adjusted it once, then twice, making sure it sat perfectly.

Then she leaned back and gave a small smile. “Then this should only feel like a pinch,” she said, her eyes flicking up to meet Ellie’s.

Ellie’s stomach did a weird little flip.

She smirked, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, well, I’ve had worse.”

For the next hour, the steady hum of the tattoo machine filled the small bedroom, rising and falling in waves as Cat worked with focused precision. Her hands were practiced, moving confidently across Ellie’s skin as the ink slowly took shape. The scent of antiseptic and ink lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of candle wax and something earthy—maybe lavender, maybe just the old wood of the house.

Ellie sat quietly through most of it, biting the inside of her cheek now and then when the needle dragged over a particularly tender patch. But it was never more than a sting—not compared to the burn Maria had inflicted on her all those months ago.

“You’re doing great,” Cat said softly, dabbing at the fresh lines with a clean cloth. Her voice was smooth and even, comforting in a way Ellie hadn’t expected.

They talked in easy bursts. Cat told her about life in the QZ back in Louisiana—how she remembered long lines for water, the smell of mildew in their apartment, the constant fear of curfews. But then, her eyes lit up when she talked about the traders who brought news of Jackson. She’d only been a kid, but the way she described it, the idea of a safe community sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

“My mom cried when we made it here,” Cat said, her voice drifting like smoke. “Said it was the first time she felt like she could sleep through the night.”

Ellie didn’t offer much in return—she wasn’t sure how to explain her life before Jackson in casual conversation. But she did listen, watching the way Cat's brow furrowed with focus, the way her hand moved like a brush across canvas.

When Cat finally leaned back and peeled off her gloves, she looked proud. “Alright, what do you think?”

Ellie glanced down at her arm. The moth stretched its wings just beneath the curve of her bicep, framed by delicate fern leaves that spiraled outward. It covered the old scar completely. She traced a finger lightly over the wrapped design.

“I love it,” she said with a rare smile. And she meant it. The tattoo felt like more than ink—it was a shield, a reclamation. Her mark, now.

“I’ll finish the shading next time,” Cat said, already wrapping the fresh tattoo with practiced care. “Just keep it covered for a bit, and don’t mess with it. No swimming. No roughhousing. You know.”

Ellie gave a lazy salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

They sat there for a beat, the silence between them heavier now, something unspoken threading through the room. Cat was still kneeling in front of her, her hands hovering for a second too long before she pulled back.

Ellie caught the way her eyes dipped briefly—too briefly—to her lips.

The moment hung in the air like a held breath.

Then Cat shifted forward suddenly, closing the space between them in one impulsive move, and kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative. Ellie froze. Her eyes widened, heart jumping straight into her throat. For a moment, just a second, she didn’t pull away. But then it hit her.

Like a wave crashing into her chest: the scar. The bite. The what if.

Ellie shoved her back—firm, not violent, just startled.

“What the fuck was that?” she blurted out, breath catching.

Cat’s eyes went wide, backing off instantly. “I—shit, sorry. I thought—God, I thought you wanted—”

But Ellie was already moving.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, breath catching in her throat as she turned and bolted out of the room, her boots pounding against the wooden floors. Cat called after her, voice laced with guilt and confusion, but Ellie didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

Her chest was tight, her skin clammy. She pushed through the front door, out into the cold Jackson air, sucking in deep lungfuls as if trying to steady the world around her. She didn’t know what this meant—didn’t know what she was. The infection had never come with instructions. No one told her if her bite was safe, if her blood was poison, if kissing someone could mean passing along a death sentence.

Ellie’s feet carried her without thinking, weaving through the dim streets until she reached the edge of the block. She sank to the base of a thick pine, curling into herself—knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped tight. The air was damp and biting. Good. Maybe the cold could quiet the heat rising in her face. Maybe it could drown the shame.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, hugging her legs and trying to breathe.

Then she heard soft footsteps crunching through the frost-bitten grass.

She didn’t lift her head, but the scent gave her away—lavender soap, cedar smoke, and beneath it, the faint, unmistakable pull of omega pheromones. Comforting. Familiar. A little overwhelming.

Cat crouched beside her, careful not to get too close. “You left your jacket,” she said gently, holding out the worn fabric in both hands.

Ellie looked up, startled. Her eyes met Cat’s—wide, uncertain, apologetic. The sight made Ellie’s chest ache with guilt. She took the jacket and slipped it over her shoulders, avoiding the other girl’s gaze for a beat.

“Listen…” she started, voice rough, still catching her breath.

But Cat was already shaking her head, her words spilling out in a rush. “No, I get it. You don’t like girls. It was dumb of me to assume—”

“No!” Ellie’s voice cracked, too loud in the quiet of the town. She cleared her throat, her face heating all over again. “I do… like girls.”

Cat blinked, mouth parting in surprise.

“I just…” Ellie scratched the back of her neck, fumbling for the first lie that might cover the deeper truth. “You caught me off guard. That’s all. You’re—uh—you’re my first.”

Not true. Not entirely. But Riley was a memory wrapped in pain, and Cat didn’t need to know about that.

Cat's lips curved into a small smile she tried to hide. “Oh.” Her voice was soft, careful. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first.”

Ellie let out a breath, her hands finally unclenching. “Nah. I’m sorry for freaking out. I’ve got a bad habit of… overreacting. You can ask Joel. I panic first, think later.”

That drew a laugh from Cat—a real one, warm and melodic—and the sound of it unraveled some of the tension in Ellie’s chest. She found herself smiling too, however small.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Cat said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We can take it slow. I promise, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Ellie’s eyes flicked up, searching her face. Trust was a hard thing to come by. But in that moment, something inside her softened.

“You, uh… you wanna come to my place?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

Cat arched a brow, lips twitching into a smirk. “Bold.”

“For a movie,” Ellie blurted out quickly, hands going up. “Just a movie. Chill. I got blankets. Snacks. Even a copy of The Mask if you’re into weird green-faced dudes with bad jokes.”

Cat laughed again, then reached out and took Ellie’s hand, their fingers lacing together like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“I’d love to,” she said, her voice steady now. Warm.

“Great,” Ellie said awkwardly, voice cracking just a bit as she gestured down the dim path toward her place. “This way.”

They walked in step under the faint silver cast of moonlight, the streets of Jackson quiet and still around them. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and the wind rustled through the trees—but otherwise, it was just the sound of their boots crunching along the gravel path.

Ellie glanced down, her pulse skipping, but she didn’t pull away. Her hand stayed in Cat’s—nervous, sure, but steady. She felt the warmth of the omega’s skin through her calloused fingers, the easy confidence in the way Cat’s thumb moved just slightly against her own.

She didn’t go through the front of the house. Instead, she led them around the side, through the creaky wooden gate that opened up into the backyard. The old fence Joel had half-fixed was still leaning slightly, and the grass had overgrown in patches, but Ellie liked it that way. It felt… lived-in. Untamed.

She reached the garage and unlatched the side door, holding it open so Cat could step inside first. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the air felt quieter—more personal somehow. Like the world outside had faded.

Cat looked around the space, her eyes moving over the scattered mess: the guitar in the corner, a shelf filled with old VHS tapes and scavenged movie posters, a pile of blankets near the heater, and Ellie’s workbench cluttered with half-fixed gear. The place smelled like wood dust, motor oil, and a hint of lavender from the candle Ellie always kept burning.

But Ellie wasn’t paying attention to any of that.

She was watching her.

In the soft yellow light of the hanging bulb, Cat looked almost unreal. Her long black hair was styled half-up, loose strands falling to frame her face, which was heart-shaped and delicate, but not fragile. Her features were sharp in a graceful kind of way—high cheekbones, a slender nose, full lips with a natural pink hue. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, framed by thick lashes and always seeming to study the world with a quiet intensity. There was something thoughtful in the way she moved, in the small tilt of her head as she took in the space, like she was cataloging it all with care.

Her skin was a smooth milky tone, glowing slightly under the garage light. Tattoos crawled along both her arms—delicate linework and bold color pieces mixed together, revealing hints of roses, koi fish, cherry blossoms, and script in a language Ellie couldn’t read. There were more tattoos peeking just beneath the edge of her collar, and Ellie caught herself staring, wondering how far they went.

Cat turned, catching her looking.

Ellie coughed, quickly turning to fiddle with the old DVD player. “So, uh, I’ve got The Mask, Back to the Future, Blade…”

Cat smirked, stepping closer. “You always this smooth with girls?”

Ellie shot her a look, cheeks burning. “Shut up.”

Cat laughed gently and sat down on one of the folded blankets on her bed, legs crossed, hands resting on her knees. “Blade, definitely. I like a guy in a trench coat with a sword.”

Ellie snorted, setting the disc in the player. “Good choice. It’s got vampires and blood and guns. Real romantic.”

“Sounds like a perfect first date,” Cat teased.

Ellie didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked at her. Really looked.

And then, quietly, she said, “Yeah… I guess it is.”

Ellie flipped the small switch on the wall, cutting the lights. The garage dipped into a dim haze, the only illumination now coming from the old TV screen that flickered to life. Static gave way to the opening credits of Blade, casting moody reds and pale whites across the cluttered garage.

She settled onto the mattress, scooting back against the mound of pillows she had scavenged. Cat followed, but when Ellie made an awkward attempt to keep some space between them—just a handspan, nothing major—Cat casually slid closer, as if she didn’t even notice. A moment later, her head rested gently on Ellie’s shoulder.

Ellie froze.

Not entirely—she was still breathing, still blinking—but every muscle in her body went on high alert, like the moment before you opened a door you weren’t sure what was behind. Cat was warm against her. Calm. Trusting. She was just watching the movie like this was any other night.

Ellie did her best not to tense, her fingers twisting slightly in the blanket covering her lap. She kept her eyes on the screen, but her mind was racing—faster than she could keep up with.

Hours passed. Somehow, without really meaning to, they moved from sitting upright to lying down. Cat had pulled Ellie down with her in a sleepy tangle of limbs somewhere between the end of the second movie and the beginning of the third. Her head was now resting directly on Ellie’s chest, one arm loosely draped over her middle, the soft rhythm of her breathing rising and falling with Ellie’s own.

Ellie hadn’t slept.

She couldn’t.

Her eyes had stayed locked on Cat for hours, wide open in the dim glow of the TV. She watched the gentle rise and fall of her back, the way her nose twitched now and then in sleep. She listened for every breath, every shift, her nerves wired tight.

She was looking for something. Anything.

A twitch. A groan. A flash of clouded eyes.

Infection. That’s what she feared. That’s what her heart was thudding against her ribs over. It wasn’t just about Cat—it was about the guilt. The what if. She didn’t know how this worked. Maybe a kiss was enough. Maybe it wasn’t. And if she woke up to find Cat’s skin mottled and gray—

But she didn’t.

Cat slept soundly. Peacefully, even. No fever, no twitching, no moaning, no sudden jerks or groans like the infected did when they first turned. Just the soft sound of a girl sleeping beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ellie had no idea how much time had passed.

Not until she blinked and saw the faintest glow of morning creeping in through the high, dusty garage window. Golden light caught the edge of an old license plate hanging on the wall, refracting in tiny glimmers across the room.

She was still watching Cat when the girl stirred. Her lashes fluttered, and then her eyes cracked open—bleary with sleep and warm with recognition.

“Mmm… good morning,” Cat murmured, stretching like a cat herself, a little smile tugging at her lips.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard. “Morning?” she echoed, her voice rough from silence.

She turned her head toward the window. Sure enough, soft daylight had broken through. She had stayed up all night and hadn’t even realized it.

Cat propped herself up slightly on one elbow, still half draped across Ellie’s body. “How’d you sleep?” she asked, voice low and groggy, her fingers tracing a lazy pattern on Ellie’s side.

Ellie didn’t hesitate. “Slept just fine.”

It was a lie, of course. Her body felt like it had been rung out and then stiffened with anxiety—but the words rolled off her tongue without a hitch.

Cat smiled, leaning back down with a sigh, her hair spilling across Ellie’s collarbone. “Good. This is probably the best sleep I’ve had in months.”

Ellie didn’t respond right away.

She just looked down at the girl lying on her chest—alive, healthy, breathing—and quietly let herself exhale for the first time in hours.

Cat let out a soft sigh of contentment, nuzzling closer for just a second before pushing herself up with a yawn. “I gotta use the bathroom,” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

Ellie nodded, sitting up slowly as Cat stood. The omega stretched with a quiet groan, her arms rising above her head, the hem of her shirt lifting just slightly to reveal a sliver of soft skin. Her dark hair—now tousled and falling freely from the half-up style she’d worn—framed her face in soft waves, catching the early sunlight leaking through the garage window.

Ellie couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Cat padded across the room barefoot, glancing over her shoulder with a sleepy smile before slipping into the small bathroom off the side of the garage, the door clicking shut behind her.

Ellie sat frozen in place for a second, her heart still pounding quietly in her chest… and then, suddenly, it hit her.

She didn’t turn.

Ellie blinked. The realization sank in deeper.

She didn’t turn.

Not after the kiss. Not after sleeping skin-to-skin all night. Not after being that close to Ellie for hours.

Cat was fine.

Ellie felt a strange heat rise in her chest—not fear this time, but something… light. Something warm. Hopeful.

She didn’t infect her.

Holy shit.

She couldn’t infect her.

That truth settled in her bones like a jolt of electricity, radiating outward until she was grinning like a fucking idiot in the dark. Her shoulders sagged, the tension finally melting away after what felt like years of bracing herself for disaster.

She flopped back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her hand instinctively went to her chest, right over her thudding heart.

She couldn’t infect anyone.

That meant… she could be with someone. She could touch and kiss and want without the fear of destroying everything she cared about. And not just anyone—

Cat likes her.

A pretty girl—an actual, alive, breathing, soft, funny, talented, beautiful omega—liked her. Not out of pity. Not because there were no other options. Not because of shared trauma or mutual survival.

Ellie laughed, a sudden, quiet, breathless thing.

“Oh my god,” she muttered to herself, giddy. “She likes me.”

She sat up again, rubbing both hands over her face. “She fucking likes me.”

It felt insane. It felt impossible. She thought Riley was a one-time thing—something rare and fleeting in the middle of chaos. Riley had been special, yeah, but even then, they were stuck in a QZ, stuck in the same broken loop. It was easy to convince herself that it had just… happened.

But this?

This felt real.

Cat could’ve had anyone in Jackson. Ellie had seen the way people looked at her, the way they lingered when she was around. Yet she chose Ellie. All her rough edges, her baggage, her fuck-ups, her past.

Ellie dropped her head into her hands and let out a laugh-sigh hybrid that was half joy, half disbelief.

“I’m not gonna die a lonely virgin,” she muttered, smirking at the floor. “Hell fucking yes.”

The bathroom door creaked open behind her, and Ellie immediately straightened up, trying to wipe the grin off her face before Cat could see it.

Too late.

“You good?” Cat asked, stepping out with damp hands, eyeing her curiously.

Ellie cleared her throat, trying not to look like a complete maniac. “Yeah,” she said, maybe a little too fast. “Just, uh… thinking.”

Cat tilted her head, smiling softly. “Thinking, huh? That dangerous for you?”

Ellie scoffed, tossing a pillow in her direction. “You’re hilarious.”

“I try,” Cat said, walking back toward the bed, her smile a little softer now, a little sleepier. She crawled back under the blanket beside Ellie, her knee brushing Ellie’s thigh, and didn’t move away.

Ellie looked at her again—really looked—and this time, she didn’t stop herself from smiling.

She felt like she could breathe again.

Like maybe, just maybe… she could have something good.

Cat shifted closer, snuggling into Ellie’s side, her face pressing into the curve of Ellie’s neck. Ellie stiffened for a fraction of a second, still adjusting to the foreign but incredible feeling of someone willingly being that close to her—and then relaxed, breathing in the warm, clean scent of Cat’s hair.

“I have kitchen duty later,” Cat mumbled against her skin, voice muffled and half-asleep. “At ten.”

Ellie blinked, glancing over at the small digital clock on the nearby shelf. The red numbers blinked 5:00 AM back at her. Shit. She hadn’t realized it had gotten so late—or rather, so early.

Cat yawned, her breath tickling Ellie’s throat. “We should get more sleep.”

Ellie couldn’t agree faster. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

Without thinking too hard about it, she shifted under the blanket and wrapped an arm around Cat’s waist, pulling the girl firmly against her. Cat hummed quietly, the sound vibrating softly in her chest as she sighed in pure contentment.

For once, Ellie felt her mind ease. Her body went heavy, warmth seeping into her limbs, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself relax. Let herself trust.

Within minutes, sleep pulled her under.

The hours passed in a quiet, comfortable haze.

When Ellie finally stirred, it was to the soft creak of the mattress and a groggy groan slipping from her lips. She squinted against the weak morning light filtering into the garage. Cat was perched at the edge of the bed now, tugging her boots on, her back to Ellie.

The sight made Ellie’s heart ache in a weirdly sweet way.

Cat turned at the sound of Ellie’s groan, a wide, sleepy smile spreading across her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a mess, and she looked so pretty it made Ellie’s chest feel too small.

“Morning,” Cat said, her voice teasingly bright.

Ellie, still half-asleep, grumbled back, “Morning,” before forcing herself to sit up, rubbing at her face.

Cat stood, brushing off her jeans, grabbing her jacket from the hook near the door. Ellie followed her, fiddling awkwardly with the hem of her shirt, suddenly feeling like she was standing on the edge of something important.

Cat shrugged on her coat, ready to leave, and Ellie’s heart panicked.

“I, uh…” Ellie cleared her throat, her fingers still twitching nervously, “I’d like to do it again. This. With you.”

Cat paused, halfway through zipping her jacket, and turned. A brow arched in that playful way of hers.

Ellie immediately stumbled over herself, words tumbling out in a rush. “Only if you want to! I mean—you don’t have to or anything, it’s cool if you don’t—”

Cat laughed—a soft, musical sound that made Ellie’s stomach flip—and finished zipping up her coat. She stepped closer, tilting her head.

“I’d like that,” Cat said simply, her smile so warm it made Ellie’s knees weak.

They stood there for a beat, the air charged and thick with something unspoken, something buzzing just under the surface.

And then Ellie, her nerves fraying, blurted out, “Can we—can we kiss again?”

Cat didn’t answer with words.

Instead, she stepped right up to Ellie, close enough that Ellie could feel the heat radiating off her. Cat cupped Ellie’s face in both hands—gently, like she was something fragile—and rose up onto the tips of her toes.

The kiss was soft and sure and lingering. Cat’s lips were warm and a little chapped, but Ellie thought it was perfect. She sighed quietly into it, her eyes fluttering closed, her hands finding Cat’s waist without even thinking.

Everything else—the fear, the guilt, the chaos—fell away in that moment, replaced by something pure and good and alive.

When they finally pulled apart, Cat rested her forehead lightly against Ellie’s, both of them breathing a little harder than before.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Cat whispered, her voice brushing across Ellie’s skin.

Ellie nodded, her heart pounding against her ribs. “Yeah,” she said, grinning like an idiot. “See you later.”

Cat gave her one last smile before slipping out the door, leaving Ellie standing there, still a little dazed, touching her fingers lightly to her lips like she couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

And for once, it wasn’t a dream. It was real.

---

Ellie stood in the stables, a far-off, dreamy look etched onto her face. She lazily shoveled a pile of horse shit into a bucket, but even the pungent smell and the grunt work couldn’t wipe the soft smile from her lips. Her mind was elsewhere—specifically, back to the way Cat’s lips had felt against hers, warm and sure.

"Hey, stranger," Dina’s voice called out, snapping Ellie out of her daze. The omega approached, nudging Ellie’s shoulder lightly with her own.

Ellie blinked back to reality, still grinning like a fool.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Dina teased, noting the dreamy smile plastered on Ellie’s face. She tossed a curious glance toward the shovel in Ellie’s hand. “Never seen someone so happy to shovel shit.”

“Cat kissed me,” Ellie blurted out, her grin somehow stretching even wider, her cheeks flushing a soft pink.

For a split second—so fast that most people wouldn’t have noticed—it flickered across Dina’s face: jealousy. Sharp and biting, it churned in her chest before she masked it with a tight, practiced smile.

But Ellie, lost in her own little world, didn’t notice.

“Oh…” Dina said, struggling to keep her tone light. “That’s… good. That’s really good.”

Inside, it felt like her blood was boiling. Dina had buried her feelings for Ellie deep down, telling herself it was for the best. Ellie had always been so firm, so stubborn about it—saying she wasn’t interested in relationships, didn’t want anyone getting too close. Dina respected that. She stayed quiet, became her friend, her confidant.

But now, out of nowhere, Cat—Cat, of all people—had broken through where Dina never could.

Dina didn’t hate Cat. Not really. They just... didn't click. Jesse always joked it was because they were too alike—both quick-witted, both stubborn, both good at hiding how much they cared. Maybe he was right. Maybe that's exactly why it stung so badly now.

A sour taste filled Dina’s mouth as she wondered bitterly what Cat had that she didn’t.

“What you ladies talkin' 'bout?” Jesse’s voice interrupted, cheerful and oblivious as he wrapped his arms around Dina from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Dina stiffened slightly under his touch, but she forced herself to lean back into him. She had almost forgotten that they had gotten back together... again. It was always the same cycle—break up, makeup. Jesse was safe. Familiar. A distraction she desperately needed right now.

Ellie sighed, still dreamy-eyed. “Cat.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two girls, then chuckled, clearly amused. “I heard y’all are dating now. She told me you were her girlfriend back at the mess hall.”

“Really?” Ellie asked, her voice a mixture of shock and wonder. She blinked at Jesse, like she wasn’t sure she heard him right. A girlfriend. She actually had a girlfriend. Happiness bloomed hot in her chest, mingling with a sudden swell of anxiety. Fuck, what if she messed it up? What if she said or did something stupid?

Jesse chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. “Indeed. Said it right there at the mess hall. ‘That’s my girl,’” he repeated, mimicking Cat’s playful lilt with a grin.

Ellie’s face burned, a dopey smile tugging at her lips before she could stop it.

“Maybe we can all go on a double date sometime?” Jesse suggested, nudging Dina playfully. “What you think, babe?”

Dina didn’t answer. She simply pulled away from his embrace, her face stony, and without a word she turned and strode off toward the far end of the stable. Her boots crunched heavily against the dirt floor, the swing of her shoulders tense with frustration.

Jesse watched her leave, confused. “What’d I do?” he asked, glancing helplessly at Ellie.

Ellie shrugged, her expression mirroring his confusion. She gave him a look that said beats me, before shoving another heap of manure into the bucket at her feet.

“Damn omegas,” Jesse muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. He sighed. Maybe he could find some flowers or snag some chocolate later—Dina usually softened up when he pulled out the grand gestures. He started toward the stable door, but paused, turning back to slap a friendly hand on Ellie’s back.

“Congrats on getting the girl, Williams,” he said, grinning.

Ellie smiled shyly, ducking her head a little. “Thanks, Jess.”

Jesse chuckled and straightened his posture, puffing out his chest in a mock imitation of Joel, deepening his voice dramatically. “Now... as an alpha… we have these urges…”

Ellie rolled her eyes and shoved him, hard enough that he stumbled a step back, laughing even harder.

“I ain’t telling you shit again,” she muttered, grabbing the shovel and tossing another pile into the bucket with unnecessary force.

Jesse doubled over, clutching his sides as he laughed. “I only tease!” he said, pushing her lightly back with a playful grin. Then he sobered—only a little—and wagged a finger at her. “But semi-serious, El. Don’t go knockin’ her up. I don’t think your old man’s ready to be a grandpa just yet.”

“You’re such a dick,” Ellie grumbled, though she couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.

She turned back to her work, feeling the leftover warmth of laughter on her skin even after Jesse wandered off, probably heading in the direction Dina had stormed off to.

But Ellie didn’t dwell on it.

For once, she didn’t let herself overthink, didn’t pick apart every weird look or awkward silence. She had a girlfriend. A real girlfriend. A girl who kissed her first, who smiled at her like she was something worth holding onto. The thought made her chest bloom with warmth, made her heart feel almost too big for her ribs.

The grin tugging at her mouth only widened. She found herself humming under her breath as she shoveled the last of the muck into the bucket, not even minding the sour stink that usually made her gag. Nothing could ruin her mood right now. Not the shit under her boots, not the early morning cold biting at her fingers, not even the faint ache in her muscles from working so early.

If anything, the world around her seemed a little softer, a little lighter.

She leaned on her shovel for a second, staring up at the high beams of the stable ceiling. Dust motes floated in the slanted beams of morning light, and somewhere a horse snorted softly, the gentle thud of hooves against packed dirt filling the quiet spaces.

Ellie smiled to herself.

I have a girlfriend, she thought, the words almost foreign, almost unbelievable. And she likes me. She wants me.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like some broken thing waiting to be abandoned. She felt... wanted. Chosen.

And no amount of horse shit in the world was going to take that away from her today.

---

Kissing Cat had quickly become one of Ellie’s favorite pastimes over the past several weeks. They’d been going steady for a little over a month now, and so far, the most they'd ventured was hands roaming shyly above the clothes — and even that felt like a battle sometimes.

It wasn’t that Ellie didn’t want to have sex — what horny alpha didn’t? The problem was... she had no fucking clue what she was doing. And Cat, well, Ellie knew she had experience. It made everything a thousand times worse, because every time Cat's hands wandered a little lower, or her kisses deepened into something filthy and consuming, Ellie panicked. Blushed like a damn schoolgirl. Froze up and pulled away before things could tip into something rawer, something more real.

Now, Cat was straddling her hips, pinning her to the worn couch cushions like she owned her. She was pressing open-mouthed kisses along Ellie’s throat, leaving marks that would no doubt bloom into bruises by morning. Claimed, marked — Ellie shivered under her, overwhelmed by the possessiveness of it. Cat rolled her hips down, grinding against Ellie’s painfully hard cock through the thin layers of their clothes, pulling a desperate groan from deep in Ellie’s chest.

“Is it too much?” Cat asked, breathless, her voice pitched low and sweet, a little hoarse from all the kissing. Her cheeks were flushed a delicious red, her lips swollen and shiny. She looked at Ellie like she meant something, something important — not just another body to get off on.

The sight of her made Ellie’s heart twist painfully. God, Cat had been so fucking patient. So soft with her, so careful. And here Ellie was, a mess of nerves and inexperience, too scared to even slip a hand beneath Cat’s shirt, too fucking paralyzed to even try unclasping her bra, like a goddamn virgin in a bad movie.

Maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe she was broken.

Any normal alpha would have jumped at the chance to fuck the gorgeous omega straddling them, panting and grinding like she needed them. But not Ellie. Ellie just laid there, heart hammering, frozen by the heavy, aching weight of not knowing what came next — and being terrified she'd mess it up.

She had enough. The nerves were eating her alive, but Ellie couldn't stand the thought of running anymore. She wanted what everyone else seemed to have, wanted to feel that. To stop hiding behind her inexperience and actually take the plunge.

"I, uh..." She cleared her throat, heart thundering in her chest, a wash of heat crawling up her neck. "Want to."

Cat’s eyes widened, but there was a soft, teasing smile on her lips as she sat up, still straddling Ellie’s waist. Her fingers ran through her messy hair, and she cocked her head, repeating the words in a low, amused tone. "Want to?"

Ellie bit her lip, suddenly shy under the weight of Cat's gaze. "Have sex," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, though the words felt like they’d exploded in her chest. The air around them seemed to freeze, heavy and pregnant with anticipation. Her face burned red, every inch of her skin prickling. She quickly added, "Only if you want to, of course."

Cat’s expression softened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to Ellie’s lips, her voice lilting with a teasing laugh. “If you insist.”

Before Ellie could respond, the omega was already tearing off her own shirt, the fabric flying across the room with a casual ease that sent a rush of blood straight to Ellie’s head.

The sight of Cat in nothing but a lacy bra, her smooth, toned skin glowing under the dim light, made Ellie feel like she was about to have a damn heart attack. Her breath hitched, chest tightening in a mixture of awe and pure desire. It was like every thought in her head stopped as she stared at the beauty in front of her — Cat, exposed, and yet still more than willing to show her the way.

Without thinking, Ellie moved quickly, pushing herself upright with urgency, her lips crashing into Cat's. The kiss was a rush of pent-up hunger, raw and desperate. Cat’s hands immediately found her shirt, tugging at it, and Ellie responded, eager to strip them both of any lingering barriers. Her fingers fumbled for a moment as she worked to undress the girl — her heart thundering in her ears as she prayed to whoever was listening that she wouldn’t fuck this up.

God, she didn’t know what she was doing, but she wanted to. With every kiss, every touch, she felt herself falling further into the storm Cat had created between them, her nerves starting to fade into something else. Something hungry.

The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the heat of their bodies pressing together, their breaths mingling in the space between kisses. Ellie didn’t know what would happen next, but for the first time in weeks, she didn’t care. She was finally ready to stop pretending, ready to dive headfirst into the unknown, trusting Cat to lead her there.

Ellie’s heart was pounding so loudly she thought it might give out. She pulled Cat closer, their bodies finally aligning in a perfect, trembling collision. Every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire as Cat’s hands roamed over her, touching, exploring, with a confidence Ellie envied. Every kiss deepened, every breath shared heavier than the last.

Cat’s fingers moved to the waistband of Ellie’s jeans, her touch deliberate and slow, as if she could feel the tremors of uncertainty that ran through Ellie. She pulled back slightly, her lips brushing over Ellie’s jaw, whispering, "You’re okay." The sound of her voice was like a balm, soothing the knots in Ellie’s stomach, even as it tied a new one in her chest.

Ellie nodded, her throat tight, but she wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or the sheer desire crawling up her spine. She reached for Cat’s bra, hands shaking slightly, but this time, it wasn’t fear — it was anticipation. Her fingers traced the lace, tentative at first, then with more certainty as she unclasped it and let it fall away.

Cat’s bare chest was a revelation, her skin soft and warm, and Ellie couldn’t stop herself from running her hands over it, memorizing every curve and contour. Cat let out a soft sigh, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief second as she tilted her head back. The sight of her, relaxed and open, gave Ellie the courage she needed. She kissed down Cat’s neck, each touch turning desperate as the space between them evaporated.

Cat’s breath caught when Ellie’s lips found the curve of her collarbone, and the sound of it made Ellie feel like she was flying, weightless. She slid her hands down Cat’s sides, feeling the smoothness of her skin as she explored the expanse of her back. Cat’s hands roamed lower, teasing the edge of Ellie’s jeans, and Ellie’s breath hitched, biting her lip as she pulled away for just a moment to meet Cat’s gaze.

Cat smiled softly, understanding in her eyes, and it was all Ellie needed. With a steadying breath, she undid the button of her jeans and slid them off. They were both half-naked now, their bodies tangled together in the dim, quiet room, and Ellie felt a strange sense of peace amidst the chaos of her thoughts. She was here. She was with Cat. And that was all that mattered.

Cat’s fingers traced the waistband of Ellie’s underwear, eyes asking for permission before she moved to remove it. Ellie nodded, too far gone in the moment to hold back now. With a gentle tug, the last barrier between them was gone.

They were finally skin to skin, heartbeats in sync, their breaths coming fast and shallow. The intimacy of it all left Ellie breathless, overwhelmed in the best way. But she still felt that flutter of nerves, the ghost of uncertainty lurking behind her desire.

“Are you sure?” Cat asked, her voice low and thick with need, but there was still a softness there, a tenderness that made Ellie’s heart ache.

Ellie nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Cat’s lips met hers again, slow and patient, a silent reassurance that Ellie could take her time, that she didn’t have to rush, that this moment was theirs to shape. But the truth was, Ellie couldn’t wait any longer. The ache, the overwhelming need that had been building for weeks, had finally reached a boiling point. Her body was alive with sensation, her pulse racing faster than she could keep up with.

She didn’t think, she just acted. Her hands found Cat’s hips, gripping them firmly, and with a surge of urgency, she pulled Cat closer, their bodies aligning in a perfect, heated press. Ellie’s breath caught as Cat let out a soft gasp, but it was all the encouragement Ellie needed. With one swift motion, she stood, lifting Cat effortlessly, and the omega instinctively wrapped her legs around Ellie’s waist, pulling her closer, urging her forward with a desperate need that mirrored Ellie’s own.

Their lips met again, this time with a hunger that couldn’t be denied. It was no longer slow and tentative — it was frantic, filled with all the pent-up desire and longing that had been simmering beneath the surface. Ellie’s heart was pounding in her chest as she carried them across the room, her hands sure and steady as she laid Cat gently on the bed.

---

Ellie lay under the sheets, hiding from the world. The weight of what had just happened was crushing, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of shame that wrapped around her like a vice. She couldn’t bring herself to face Cat, not after everything. After only lasting a few minutes, her body betraying her in the worst possible way. She hadn't even been able to give Cat the release she deserved, the one she had been patient enough to wait for. It felt like an unforgivable failure.

Cat had tried to reassure her, whispered that it was okay, that it wasn’t her fault, but Ellie couldn't hear any of it. All she could feel was the sting of inadequacy, the sense that she'd let Cat down in the most intimate way possible. She curled tighter into herself, face buried in the pillow as she tried to block out the shame radiating through her, the confusion of her emotions too overwhelming to untangle.

“Ellie,” Cat’s voice came soft but insistent, like a melody she couldn’t escape. It was both soothing and painful to hear. “Can you please come out?”

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, her throat tight as she mumbled a quiet, defeated “No.” The shame was like a physical weight, keeping her pinned beneath the covers, unwilling to face the reality of what had just happened.

"Ellie," Cat said again, her voice gentle but firm. Ellie heard her shift, and before she could stop it, Cat’s hand slipped under the edge of the blanket, lifting it just enough to slide her head beneath it.

Ellie could feel the warmth of Cat’s breath against her skin, the soft pressure of her body close, her presence unwavering and patient. Cat didn’t say anything right away; she just waited, looking at Ellie with eyes full of understanding — even concern.

“Please come out,” Cat asked once more, her voice quieter this time, almost a plea.

Ellie let out a long, frustrated huff, the pressure in her chest growing as the weight of her emotions began to bubble to the surface. She was terrified. Terrified of what Cat might think of her, terrified of the judgment that had only been born in her own mind.

But Cat wasn’t pushing her. She wasn’t angry. She was just... there.

Ellie took a shuddering breath, finally peeling herself from the cocoon of the sheets. She turned toward Cat, reluctant but obedient, letting herself fall against the headboard, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself in a desperate, self-soothing gesture. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Cat just yet, her gaze trained on the comfort of her own arms, still too raw and vulnerable to meet her girlfriend’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie mumbled, her voice thick with shame. She couldn’t bring herself to look Cat in the eye, instead moving to bury her face in her knees as if somehow hiding would make everything go away.

Cat, however, wasn’t going to let her retreat. She shifted closer, her arms wrapping around Ellie’s back, pulling her into a warm embrace. She rested her head against Ellie’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. "For what?" she asked gently, her voice a mix of concern and tenderness.

Ellie groaned in frustration, her fingers twisting the hem of the blanket. “You didn’t…” She paused, the words sticking in her throat. “It was bad. I know it was bad,” she confessed, unable to shake the feeling of failure that had settled deep in her chest.

The sound of Cat’s quiet laugh made Ellie’s heart flutter, though it was laced with affection, not mockery. Cat pressed a soft kiss to her neck, her lips warm against Ellie’s skin. “Did you really expect to be some kind of sex god?” she teased, pulling Ellie even closer, her arms tightening around her. The comforting scent of Cat — familiar and grounding — began to fill Ellie’s senses, calming the turmoil inside her just a little.

“No…” Ellie murmured childishly, but the words barely came out. The truth was, she had hoped she’d last longer than three damn minutes, at least. She had hoped she’d be better at this. “I just thought…” She trailed off, unsure how to voice the disappointment in herself.

Cat’s voice cut through her self-doubt. “It wasn’t bad, Ellie. I enjoyed myself,” she said softly, her fingers brushing through Ellie’s hair in a gentle motion that made the alpha’s chest tighten.

Ellie scoffed, the sound bitter as it escaped her lips. “You don’t have to lie. I was fucking terrible.” Her words felt like they burned on the way out, but they needed to be said. She couldn’t stand the idea that Cat might be pretending to spare her feelings.

Cat’s grip on Ellie’s chin was firm, but not harsh, as she gently turned the alpha’s face to meet her gaze. “Ellie,” Cat said, her voice steady and full of understanding. “It was your first time...” She pecked Ellie’s lips softly, the kiss warm and full of reassurance. “Besides, we’ll have plenty of time to practice.”

Ellie sighed, a long, deep exhale that felt like it came from somewhere far down in her chest. She let her head fall back against Cat’s shoulder, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “You’re not going to tell anyone I suck in bed, right?” she asked, her voice quieter now, laced with a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. The idea of anyone — especially Dina — finding out made her stomach twist with dread. She didn’t even want to imagine Jesse’s teasing.

“I never kiss and tell, baby.” Cat’s voice was teasing, but there was an undeniable softness in it as she gently pulled Ellie down onto the bed, her lips meeting Ellie’s in a kiss that was slow and languid, full of unspoken promises. As their lips parted, Cat smiled, her fingers trailing lazily along the curve of Ellie’s jaw. “Practice makes perfect,” she murmured, her hands moving to tug Ellie on top of her, settling her against the sheets.

Ellie’s breath hitched at the contact, her body responding almost instinctively to the shift in their dynamic. She could feel the heat between them building again, the electric pull of desire mingling with the nervousness that still clung to her.

Cat’s eyes gleamed with playful intensity as she looked up at Ellie. “And besides,” she continued, her hands resting confidently on Ellie’s hips, “your hands and tongue work, don’t they?”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat. The teasing tone in Cat’s voice sent a rush of warmth flooding her chest. She nodded eagerly, her body already responding to the unspoken challenge in Cat’s words. She’d always been willing to learn — to do whatever it took to make this right.

Cat chuckled, her hands guiding Ellie’s face down to hers again, kissing her deeply, thoroughly. When they pulled apart, their breath mingled in the small space between them, hot and heavy. “Then get to work,” she said, her voice a low, seductive command that made Ellie’s pulse race.

Ellie’s mind went blank for a moment, the rush of adrenaline and desire making her hands shake slightly. But when she looked down at Cat — the woman she cared for more than she ever thought possible — something inside her clicked. She wasn’t going to let her own insecurities stop her anymore. This was a chance to learn, to give Cat what she deserved, and to embrace everything she was feeling, without fear.

With a steadying breath, Ellie lowered herself, pressing her lips to Cat’s neck first, savoring the softness of her skin, the way Cat’s body responded to each touch. Her hands roamed with growing confidence, finding places on Cat’s body she knew she’d explored in passing but never fully understood. Her fingers brushed over Cat’s chest, her breath quickening as the older girl’s soft gasps spurred her on.

Ellie’s lips found Cat’s again, more insistent this time, and as their bodies shifted, Ellie felt herself getting lost in the rhythm — in the warmth, the need, the tender but unyielding connection between them. She was no expert, but with every touch, every kiss, she felt herself growing more sure, more attuned to Cat’s reactions.

And as she moved lower, her heart pounding with anticipation, she was determined to make sure this time would be different. This time, she would show Cat just how much she was willing to learn.

Chapter 5: Adam and Sidney

The crisp morning air clung to Ellie’s skin like a second layer, cool and sharp in her lungs as she walked. Each breath felt clean, like it cut through the haze in her mind — but not deep enough to clear it. The sun hung low in the sky, its warm rays breaking through the canopy above, casting fractured beams of gold across the dirt path. Leaves rustled gently in the breeze, whispering secrets overhead. Birds called to one another in high, warbling notes, their songs scattered like confetti through the quiet woods.

The steady rhythm of boots hitting packed earth echoed between the trees — hers and Tommy’s — one sound following the other, slightly out of sync. A beat behind. Ellie barely noticed.

Up ahead, Tommy turned, rifle slung over one shoulder, his brows furrowed as he looked back at her. “You with me?” he asked, his voice breaking through the quiet like a stone tossed into still water.

Ellie blinked, yanked from her thoughts. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” she said quickly, forcing a nod. She didn’t meet his eyes.

Tommy slowed his pace, waiting until they walked side by side again. He didn’t push, but his skepticism was clear. “Okay,” he said slowly, dragging the word out like he was still deciding whether to believe her. “Anyway… this silent treatment... Man. I mean, I’d forget my own damn birthday if Maria didn’t remind me. But now? She's barely said two words to me in a week.”

Ellie shrugged, eyes on the path. “You should just apologize to her.”

“I just said—” Tommy paused mid-step, glancing at her. Then he stopped entirely, expression shifting from casual to concerned. “Okay. What’s going on?” His voice was softer now. Ellie was never this quiet, not unless something was eating at her.

She hesitated, then looked up, squinting slightly against the sunlight breaking through the trees. “Nothing. Why?”

Tommy scratched at his beard, studying her. “C’mon, Ellie. I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re off.”

She sighed, the motion heavy in her chest. One hand reached up to rub at the back of her neck, fingers digging into tight muscle. “Got some stuff on my mind,” she admitted. It was vague — purposefully so — but it was as close to the truth as she was ready to offer.

Tommy didn’t press. He just gave her a small, understanding smile, the kind that reached his eyes even if it didn’t quite erase the worry in them. “You let me know if you want to talk about it,” he said, his voice warm and steady.

He didn’t need to say more. Over the years, Tommy had come to see Ellie as family — not by blood, but in the ways that mattered. She’d never replace Sarah. No one could. But Joel had found peace with Ellie in his life, something Tommy had rarely seen in his brother before. And that meant something. Enough that Ellie had a place in Tommy’s heart, too — whether she realized it or not.

Ellie nodded. “Okay.”

It wasn’t, really. But it was the only word she could manage without everything spilling out.

A lot had been swirling in her mind lately — too much, honestly. It was like her brain wouldn’t stop turning things over, dragging her down with each loop. And at the center of it all was Cat.

Her girlfriend was open in a way Ellie didn’t know how to be. Fearless. She talked about their relationship with her mom like it was nothing, like it was normal — right. And maybe it was right, but that didn’t make it easy. Cat didn’t hesitate to hold Ellie’s hand when they were out at the lake with friends, fingers laced like they’d been doing it for years. And then she’d kissed her. Right there, in front of everyone — soft, casual, proud. Not a secret. Ellie had tried to play it cool, but her heart had been pounding so hard she thought it might break a rib.

Everyone seemed to know about their relationship now. Everyone… except Joel.

She hadn’t told him. Not yet. She didn’t even know how to start. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him — Joel loved her. That wasn’t in question. But she’d heard the way people in town talked. The offhanded comments. The sideways glances. Joel wasn’t cruel, but he was old, like the other town folks and Ellie didn’t know if his love would win out over whatever ideas he’d been carrying around for decades. She didn’t want to find out the hard way.

She couldn’t lose him. Not after everything.

And then there was Dina.

That whole situation just left Ellie tangled up in knots. Lately, Dina had been distant, like something invisible had wedged itself between them. She hadn’t outright said anything — that wasn’t really Dina’s style — but it was in the way she avoided eye contact, the way she always had a reason not to hang out. Ellie had asked her a few times to come with her and Cat when they went to the stables or the diner or just walked the loop near the perimeter. But Dina kept brushing her off. Busy, she said. Tired. Rain check.

Cat, ever observant, had finally offered an explanation. “She’s just jealous,” she’d said, matter-of-fact. “You’re spending all your time with me.”

Ellie hadn’t liked the sound of that. It made her feel guilty — like she was doing something wrong just by being happy. She started trying harder to include Dina in things, talking to her more, stopping by her house. But it only made things worse. Every time Cat’s name came up, Dina would shut down, her jaw tight, her eyes hard to read. She never said anything cruel. Never even raised her voice. But the cold was worse, somehow.

Ellie missed her. Missed the easy way they used to talk. Missed the inside jokes, the way Dina would nudge her shoulder and laugh like she saw right through her. Now it felt like she was being punished and didn’t even know what crime she’d committed.

She was trying — with Joel, with Cat, with Dina — but it felt like no matter what she did, something was slipping through her fingers.

“Alright, here’s a good spot,” Tommy said, his voice cutting through Ellie’s thoughts like a blade through fog.

He crouched near the edge of a small rise, one hand gesturing for Ellie to follow as he slung the rifle off his shoulder. The trees thinned here, giving them a decent line of sight down into the clearing below. The sharp scent of pine and damp earth clung to the air, and somewhere behind them, a raven croaked its gravelly call.

Tommy knelt in the tall grass, settling in with the kind of practiced ease that came from years of doing this exact thing. “C’mon, get down here,” he said, nodding at the spot beside him.

Ellie dropped into a crouch, then onto her stomach, laying prone next to him as he adjusted the scope on his rifle. The ground was cool beneath her, the grass brushing against her arms as she shifted into position. Tommy handed her the binoculars, his eyes squinting into the sunlight.

“There,” he said, pointing with two fingers toward the valley below. “Down past that busted ski jump — see where the snow’s still packed in the shade?”

Ellie followed his line of sight with the binoculars. The world narrowed to a small circle of sharp clarity. She scanned for a moment — then she saw it.

Her stomach turned slightly.

An infected was hunched over something, its twisted body jerking in sharp, erratic movements. Blood smeared its chin and hands. A deer — or what was left of one — lay beneath it, ribs splayed like broken piano keys, steam still rising faintly from the open cavity in the cold air.

“Fuck,” Ellie muttered under her breath.

Tommy gave a low whistle. “Damn thing must’ve just caught it. Look at the size of that buck. Guess the bastard got lucky.”

Ellie lowered the binoculars slightly, brow furrowed. “That thing’s way too close to town.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, his tone tightening. “That’s why we’re out here. You see any others?”

Ellie scanned the tree line again, careful, slow. “Not yet.”

“Then watch and learn, kid,” Tommy said beside her, voice calm and confident.

Before she could respond, the sharp crack of his rifle split the air. The shot rang out across the quiet valley, echoing off the trees. Through the binoculars, Ellie watched the infected’s head snap back violently — then its body crumpled like a rag doll over the half-eaten deer.

“Damn,” Ellie whistled low. “Headshot. Clean.” She turned toward him, one eyebrow raised. “You never told me how you learned to shoot like that.”

Tommy chuckled, not taking his eyes off the clearing just yet. He pulled back from the scope, the rifle still snug against his shoulder as he adjusted the bolt with a practiced hand. “Enlisted soon as I turned eighteen,” he said, the faintest edge of nostalgia in his voice.

Ellie blinked. “Really? Why?”

He shrugged, glancing her way for a second. “College weren’t for me. Hell, I barely made it through high school. I didn’t know what the hell I wanted to do — just knew I didn’t wanna sit around waitin’ for life to start. Army felt like a way out. A way forward.”

She studied him for a beat, taking in the slight furrow in his brow, the way his jaw worked like he was chewing over old memories.

“Joel must’ve loved that,” she said dryly.

Tommy huffed a laugh — not bitter, but heavy with old history. “Pissed as all hell,” he said. “Told me I was gonna get myself killed, or come back broken — if I came back at all. Said it was a waste.”

Ellie could picture it. Joel’s voice, all low and angry, filled with worry he wouldn’t say out loud. She didn’t need to ask if Tommy went anyway — he clearly had.

“But I was dead set on it,” Tommy continued, tone quieter now. “Didn’t matter what anyone said. I thought if I just got far enough away, maybe I’d find out who I was supposed to be.”

He paused, scanning the treeline again. The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable, just thoughtful.

“You ever find out?” Ellie asked, her voice soft.

Tommy took a long breath, the sound of wind rustling through the trees filling the space between them. “Still lookin’, I guess.”

Ellie nodded, not because she fully understood — but because she almost did. That unsettled itch under your skin. That need to be more than just someone who survives. It was familiar.

“Sounds about right,” she muttered.

Tommy gave a soft grunt in reply, squinting through the scope again. A moment passed before he leaned back slightly, lifting a hand to point further down the slope. “There,” he said, voice low and steady. “Two clickers. Down by that fallen tree, near the ridge.”

Ellie pressed her eye to the binoculars again, tracking the spot he’d indicated. Sure enough, two of them were lurching slowly through the brush, heads twitching erratically, arms limp at their sides. Their grotesque fungal faces glistened in the filtered sunlight like rotting coral.

“Your turn,” Tommy said, nudging the rifle toward her with a grin. “Let’s see what you got.”

Ellie grinned back, already shifting into position. She loved this part — not the killing, exactly, but the control. The stillness. The way everything narrowed down to one moment, one breath, one bullet.

She wrapped her fingers around the rifle grip, nestling the stock into her shoulder. It was heavier than she remembered — probably because Tommy had custom mods all over it — but it felt right. Familiar.

Tommy leaned in, murmuring instructions in her ear. “Alright, now breathe with it. Don’t fight the scope. Let the sway settle — wait for the bottom of your breath, then squeeze. Not pull. Squeeze.”

Ellie’s pulse slowed as she centered the crosshairs on the first clicker’s distorted skull. The wind whispered through the trees, brushing strands of hair into her face, but she didn’t move.

Bottom of the breath.

She exhaled.

And fired.

The shot rang out like a whipcrack, and through the scope she saw the clicker’s head jerk back — a spray of infected blood misted the air as the creature collapsed in a twitching heap.

“Damn,” Tommy drawled, clearly impressed. “Right between the eyes — if that thing had eyes. Keep shootin’ like that and you’ll be a better shot than me in no time.”

Ellie smirked, already repositioning the scope for the second clicker. It had begun to stagger erratically, alerted by the shot, head jerking from side to side in search of the source.

She tracked its zigzagging steps, waited—

Fired.

The bullet struck the clicker’s thigh, sending it spinning sideways into the dirt with an unearthly shriek.

“Shit,” Ellie muttered. “Missed the head.”

Tommy clicked his tongue. “Almost. You rushed it a little.”

He raised a hand, pointing down the slope. “See how the wind’s cuttin’ crossways now? You feel that? You gotta aim a hair higher — let the breeze carry it. Wind’s comin’ off that far ridge, about ten o’clock.”

Ellie adjusted her aim, her body naturally tensing less now under his calm instruction. Her eyes sharpened behind the scope.

“Take your time. Breathe. You already got it.”

She followed his lead, finding the rhythm again — breath, aim, squeeze.

The second shot cracked across the field, echoing like a judge’s gavel.

The clicker dropped without another sound, twitching once before lying still.

Tommy let out a low whistle. “Hell yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

Ellie lowered the rifle, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. The wind swept through the clearing again, and the trees rustled softly, like applause just for her.

“All right,” Tommy said, slinging the rifle back over his shoulder. “We should head back.”

Ellie sighed quietly, dragging herself up from the cool earth. Dirt clung to her jeans, and she slapped the dust off her hands as she stood. The rifle was still warm in her grip, and part of her wished they could stay out just a little longer. Out here, with the clean air and open silence, her thoughts didn’t feel quite so loud.

The two of them started down the narrow trail again, the afternoon sun casting long shadows through the pines. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the soft crunch of boots on the dirt path and the distant rustle of the wind as it stirred the branches overhead. A bird called out, sharp and fleeting, before everything settled back into quiet.

The ski resort finally came into view — a sprawling, timeworn structure tucked into the hills like a relic of another world. The lodge’s once-grand facade had faded, its wooden beams weathered and gray, but the place still stood strong. Safe. Familiar.

As they reached the front steps, Tommy slowed, turning toward her. His face was thoughtful, serious.

“I’m not supposed to say anything,” he said, voice low, “but... Joel’s worried about you.”

Ellie exhaled, shoulders sinking slightly. She’d known this talk was coming — just not today. Not after all that target practice and fresh air.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” she muttered, gaze fixed on the worn boards beneath her boots.

“I’m sure there isn’t,” Tommy said gently. “But if you don’t talk to him, he’s gonna keep thinkin’ there is.”

Ellie shrugged, lips pressing into a thin line. “I talk to him.”

Tommy gave her a pointed look. “You gotta do more than ‘hi’ and ‘bye,’ El.”

There was no judgment in his voice, just concern — the kind that tried not to sound too much like love, even though it always did.

Ellie nodded after a moment, quiet. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Inside the lodge, the air was warm and smelled faintly of old wood and burnt coffee. Joel sat near the fireplace, guitar balanced in his lap, fingers idly plucking at the strings. The soft notes drifted through the room — not quite a song, but something close. When he looked up and saw them, a flicker of something passed through his eyes. Relief, maybe. Or hope.

“That was y’all shootin’ out there, right?” he asked, offering a half-smile.

Tommy set his rifle by the door, stretching out his shoulder as he crossed the room. “Yeah, just a couple stragglers. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” He nodded toward Ellie. “Gave her a shot with my scope.”

Joel’s gaze shifted to Ellie, cautious but warm. “How’d you like it?”

Ellie glanced down at her shoes, the blood on the toes already drying into dark rust stains. “Yeah. Felt good,” she said, unsure of how much she actually meant it — or how much she just wanted the conversation to go smoothly.

Joel nodded slowly, then gestured to the guitar. “I, uh… noticed you haven’t changed the strings yet.”

Ellie’s brows furrowed defensively. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

A pause. Joel held up a hand. “No big deal. We’ll get you some new ones.”

He stood, slinging his old backpack over one shoulder and stepping aside. Tommy dropped into his now-empty chair, picking up the guitar and strumming a few loose, meandering chords — somehow making the same instrument sound a little lighter, a little more alive.

“There’s that music store down past the checkpoint,” Tommy said, adjusting the tuning pegs as he played. “Bet they’ve still got some strings hangin’ around. That area’s long overdue for a sweep, anyway. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

Joel glanced over at Ellie, the question in his eyes before it even left his mouth. “What do you say, kiddo?”

Ellie hesitated. Her mind tugged her in two directions — one wanting to escape back into her room, the other hearing Tommy’s voice reminding her: He’s worried about you.

She met Joel’s eyes. “Sure.”

Tommy smiled without looking up. “And that’s our cue,” he said, letting the chords drift lazily into a familiar folk tune.

Outside, the sun had dipped lower, tinting the sky with gold and pale orange. Ellie swung up onto Shimmer’s saddle, adjusting the reins as Joel mounted his own horse beside her.

He clicked his tongue, urging the animal forward. “All right,” he said, with a glance over his shoulder. “On me, kiddo.”

They rode downhill at a steady pace, the gravel path winding through a break in the dense forest. The summer canopy arched above them, golden sunlight filtering through the branches, casting dancing patterns on the earth below. The air was crisp and clean, tinged with the faint scent of pine and damp moss. Birds chirped above — finches, maybe — flitting from tree to tree in bursts of color, their songs cutting through the otherwise quiet stretch of wilderness.

It was beautiful this time of year. Peaceful, even — at least when they weren’t tripping over infected.

Joel rode a few paces ahead, the rhythmic creak of saddle leather and the soft clop of hooves filling the silence between them. Ellie, atop Shimmer, rode with a casual ease, though her eyes remained sharp, flicking to every dark spot between trees. Even now, even here, vigilance was second nature.

“So...” Joel said eventually, voice rough from disuse, like clearing a logjam in a river. “You and Tommy cross anything when you was out?”

Ellie kept her gaze ahead, her voice neutral. “Just the few we saw from the ridge. Couple clickers. You?”

Joel nodded, chewing on that answer for a beat. “Found two runners holed up in some house.” He then coughed, low in his throat, then shifted in the saddle. “Jesse tells me you’re handlin’ your own real well on those group patrols. Said you even cleared a street solo last week.”

Ellie’s brows lifted slightly, surprised he’d bring it up. “Yeah, well... it wasn’t that hard.”

“He was even recommendin’ you for paired patrols,” Joel added, glancing back at her with a careful look. “I told him I think you’re still a bit young for that.”

Ellie scoffed audibly, jaw tightening. She leaned forward slightly in her saddle, her voice suddenly hot. “I’m a better shot than half the people going out right now. And I’ve got more field experience than most of those newbies who get all shaky when they hear a clicker.”

Joel sighed through his nose, cutting in before she could really build steam. “Look... If you think you’re ready, I trust you.”

That slowed her. The fight in her chest eased, like a balloon let go gently instead of popped. She glanced at him, a small smile curling her lips. “Okay. Thanks.”

Joel didn’t turn, but the silence between them now had a warmth to it, not the cold wall it had been for weeks. “Just do me a favor,” he added after a second. “Start with the shorter routes. Ease into ‘em. See how it feels.”

Ellie gave a short nod. “All right.”

She figured that was the end of the conversation — it usually was these days. But then, to her surprise, Joel spoke again.

“You remember those Savage Starlight comic books you’re into?”

Her head snapped up a bit. “Yeah.”

“Well, Tommy and I were sweepin’ that old high school on the edge of town — you know the one near the collapsed gymnasium?”

“Uh-huh.”

“We found a couple issues stashed in one of the lockers. Guess some kid was savin’ them from the end of the world.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up. “No way. Which ones?”

“Hell, I dunno.” He gave a gruff laugh. “I read through ‘em, though. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about. That Dr. Daniela Star... she’s somethin’ else.”

Ellie stared at him. “Didja like them?”

Joel gave a theatrical shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Oh, you know... not really my thing. Lotta fancy science words and zero cowboys. But that bit where she pulled the ol’ double-cross on Captain Ryan...”

“She’s a savage,” Ellie said, grinning.

“That she is.” Joel chuckled. “And that move she did in that arena match — what was it, flipped him with one arm and that sonic dagger?”

Ellie laughed, truly laughed, and Joel drank in the sound like it was something holy. “Yeah. That was so badass. He definitely deserved it, though.”

Joel looked back at her, a soft gleam in his eyes. “Y’know, I gotta admit — the way they escaped through that black hole using the star map coordinates? That was a nice twist.”

Ellie leaned forward in the saddle, laughing under her breath. “You’re such a nerd for pretending you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, well.” He adjusted his grip on the reins. “Don’t tell anyone.”

They crested a rise, and Joel pointed with two fingers. “Music store’s up that way. Just past that intersection.”

Ahead, at the end of the road, stood the faded husk of what was once a chain music shop — large front windows shattered long ago, the sign dangling askew from rusted bolts. Weeds had overtaken the parking lot, curling up through the cracked concrete. The building stood like a monument to some forgotten age of teenagers and cassette tapes and overpriced guitar picks.

“We’ll have to leave the horses here,” Joel said, reining his in.

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Ellie answered, already swinging her leg over Shimmer’s back.

They began their approach toward the music store, walking side by side. The cracked asphalt beneath their feet had been overtaken by creeping grass and wildflowers, nature reclaiming the concrete in slow, stubborn defiance. Old streetlights leaned at odd angles, rusted and half-swallowed by ivy. A tangle of black power lines sagged overhead, humming with ghosts of a world that no longer buzzed.

But their pace slowed as they reached a break in the road — a massive sinkhole had carved out the center of the street. What must have once been a drainage line had collapsed completely, leaving a jagged pit that dropped into darkness. Chunks of asphalt jutted out like broken teeth around the edge, and Ellie peered over cautiously.

“No fuckin’ way around that,” she muttered, whistling low.

Joel grunted, hands on his hips as he surveyed the gap. “Too deep to climb. And slippery. Last thing we need is a busted ankle.”

Ellie turned, scanning the surrounding buildings. Across from them stood an old hotel — three stories of crumbling stucco and shattered windows. The faded signage still read Silver Hills Inn, though half the letters had fallen away. Paint peeled like dried skin, and vines wrapped around the front columns like choking fingers.

“What about cuttin’ through the hotel?” Ellie suggested, jerking a thumb toward the building.

Joel shook his head, already frowning. “We ain’t ever been inside there. Could be a hord. Bad idea.”

Ellie groaned, tipping her head back dramatically. “C’mon. You’re the one who wanted to get me strings.”

“I said we would get you strings,” Joel countered, “Not walk through a goddamn death trap to do it.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a buzzkill,” Ellie muttered, rolling her eyes as she stepped toward the hotel. “It’s broad daylight. I’m sure everything’s totally fine.”

Joel sighed — long, drawn-out, and tired — but he started after her anyway. “Jesus...” he muttered under his breath. “Stubborn as hell.”

They made their way across the overgrown front lawn. Dry grass crunched beneath their boots, and a few forgotten suitcases lay scattered near the entrance, long since busted open and pillaged for supplies. Joel stepped up first, trying the main doors, but they didn’t budge. The glass had long since been reinforced with plywood, hammered in tightly.

“Well, there goes that,” he muttered.

But Ellie was already scanning the facade, and her eyes lit up when she spotted a thin vertical crack where part of the wall had buckled — probably from water damage. She walked over and gave it a once-over.

“Hey,” she called. “I think I can squeeze through this.”

Joel turned toward her, brows furrowed. “You what?”

Ellie was already slipping her backpack off, sizing up the narrow space. The bricks had crumbled just enough for a small body to fit — but only just. “I’ll go in and open the front door from the inside.”

Joel looked unconvinced. “Ellie, I swear — only open the door. Don’t go wanderin’ around in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Open the door, don't touch anything, don’t start a fire, don’t summon any infected, blah blah blah.” She mimed him with a smirk as she ducked into the crack.

“Smartass,” Joel muttered, standing guard, rifle raised slightly as he scanned the street behind them. “Just be quick.”

Inside, the light dimmed immediately. Ellie could feel her heartbeat pick up as she slid through the tight space, one shoulder at a time, brushing past cold, damp brick. The air smelled stale and earthy — like rot and mildew and time. Once inside, her feet landed on a layer of old carpeting, half-peeled and damp in places. She stood still, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom.

Dust floated in beams of soft golden light filtering through high cracks in the boarded windows. The lobby had once been ornate, but years of decay had reduced it to a skeleton. Broken chairs and a toppled luggage cart lay scattered, and in the far corner, a busted chandelier hung at a crooked angle like a drunk passed out mid-dance.

Ellie moved fast, sticking to the walls as she made her way toward the entryway. The door was secured with a chain from the inside, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She fished out her pocket knife, twisting and jamming until the latch finally gave way with a loud clank.

The door creaked open, and Joel was already stepping through, rifle still in hand.

“You good?” he asked, giving her a quick once-over.

“Told you. Easy,” Ellie said, brushing dust off her hoodie.

Joel gave a grunt as he stepped further into the lobby. “Too damn skinny,” he muttered under his breath.

Ellie blinked. “Uh... you're welcome?” she said, throwing her hands up. “A thank you would be nice, y’know.”

But Joel didn’t bite. He just kept moving, his boots muffled on the ruined carpet, eyes sweeping every corner of the lobby. Ellie rolled her eyes and followed, adjusting her pack on her shoulder. Typical Joel — affection delivered in sideways insults and half-finished sentences.

The deeper they walked into the hotel, the darker it became. Light struggled to filter through the boarded-up windows and sagging ceiling, casting long shadows across the peeling wallpaper and collapsed furniture. Mold bloomed along the baseboards in powdery black streaks, and the air took on a damp, sickly edge.

That’s when Joel suddenly raised a fist, signaling for her to stop. Ellie froze behind him, body instinctively tensing.

“Shit,” he murmured, voice low. “Spores.”

Ellie’s eyes followed his hand as he pointed to the end of the hallway. A fine, ghostly mist drifted through the air — spores, swirling lazily like ash in golden beams of sunlight. Her nose wrinkled at the sight.

Joel was already pulling his mask from his backpack and sliding it over his face. “Mask on,” he said sharply.

Ellie let out a frustrated groan. “Joel. I don’t need a mask,” she hissed. “You know that.”

“It’s not about you,” he snapped quietly. “It’s about anyone else seein’ you walk around breathin’ it in like it’s nothin’. They’ll start askin’ questions.”

Ellie huffed. He wasn’t wrong — but it still annoyed her. “Feels dumb.”

“Feelin’ dumb’s better than endin’ up shot.” Joel’s tone left no room for argument.

Grumbling under her breath, Ellie tugged her own mask from her backpack and slipped it over her face, the elastic snapping against the back of her head. Her breath came hot and close, fogging up the lens for a moment before she adjusted the fit.

They continued deeper, steps slower now, quieter. Every board creak and distant water drip echoed like gunfire in the stillness. The spore density increased as they rounded a corner, thick enough to blur the outline of the hallway ahead.

Ellie squinted through the haze, and then stopped. “There.”

In the far corner of the room slumped a corpse — what was left of one. The body was pressed against the wall, melted into it almost. Its skin was bloated and split, and fungal growths had exploded outward from the mouth and eyes. Stalks curled out from its chest cavity, feeding the spore clouds drifting around them.

Joel stepped forward slowly, eyes fixed on the floor in case of movement. But the thing was long dead — one of the unlucky ones who hadn’t even turned before the infection choked the life out of them.

He crouched beside the body, prodding it gently with the muzzle of his rifle. “Fresh enough to be spreadin’,” he muttered.

Ellie kept her distance, arms crossed. “Poor bastard.”

Joel let out a soft sigh, the kind that said he’d seen too much of this and wasn’t about to linger. “Come on. Let’s keep movin’,” he said, rising to his feet and giving one last glance toward the slumped corpse.

The two pressed forward, deeper into the dim hotel corridors. The air was thick and stale, flavored with mold, rot, and something chemical underneath — the scent of long-forgotten cleaning supplies baked into the carpet. The building groaned around them, wood settling and metal creaking softly in the silence.

As they moved, Joel slowed, glancing back over his shoulder at Ellie. His eyes, dark behind his mask, studied her face with a subtle intensity. “You... you ain’t told nobody, have you?” he asked.

Ellie looked up at him, brow furrowing beneath her hood. “What?”

“’Bout your immunity,” he clarified, voice low and firm, like he was trying to contain a storm.

Ellie shook her head immediately. “No. Of course not. You really think I’d be that stupid?”

Joel’s shoulders eased slightly, his body relaxing just a fraction. “Good,” he said. “You just gotta keep it that way. You hear me?” He tapped two fingers to the side of his mask. “Things like this. Like wearin’ the mask, even if you don’t need it. You do it anyway. You keep your head down. You don’t give anybody a reason to start lookin’ at you sideways.”

Ellie exhaled, long and slow. “Yeah, I got it.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but then —

click

The sound was faint but unmistakable. Sharp. Jagged. Guttural.

Ellie froze mid-step. Joel was already moving, his hand closing around her forearm like a vice and yanking her toward the nearest wall. He pressed them flat against the crumbling plaster, his free hand raised in a fist, signaling silence.

The clicking grew louder. Closer. Echoing off the walls like a chorus of death rattles.

Joel lowered his hand slowly, fingers splaying out as he counted under his breath, motioning with each finger.

One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
Five.

Five clickers.

Joel’s jaw tensed beneath his mask, and Ellie could see the calculation working behind his eyes. They weren’t in a good spot. The hallway ahead was too narrow to sneak through unseen, and doubling back risked drawing attention.

Ellie’s fingers crept toward the switchblade strapped at her side, her breathing shallow. Joel’s grip tightened on her arm for just a second — a silent not yet.

They both stayed still, pressed against the wall, listening to the wet shuffle of feet and the broken, inhuman clicks that echoed through the darkness.

Joel leaned in, voice barely audible through the filter of his mask. “You take right,” he whispered. “I’ll go left.”

Ellie nodded once, sharp and focused, her fingers curling around the hilt of her switchblade. They crouched low, slipping like shadows down opposite ends of the ruined hallway. The carpet beneath their feet muffled their steps, but every creak in the floorboards above felt deafening.

Joel moved first. Quick, controlled. His hands found the shoulders of the nearest clicker, and with one brutal motion, he buried his hunting knife deep into its throat. The creature let out a startled screech, gurgling wetly — and then silence. Joel caught the body as it slumped, lowering it carefully to the floor.

Ellie struck next. She crept behind her target, heart hammering in her chest. One slip — one breath too loud — and they’d all be on her. But she was steady. She reached up, grabbed its head to tilt it back, and drove her blade into the exposed tendons of its neck. The clicker seized for a moment, then went limp. Ellie eased it to the ground with a soft grunt, sweat already beading at her temple.

Three and four were dangerously close together, pacing in jagged, twitchy patterns across the hallway. Joel gave Ellie a quick glance and a subtle nod. They moved in tandem — Joel flanking the left, Ellie circling to the right.

Joel reached his target first, plunging the knife in hard, muffling the clicker’s final gasp. Ellie followed a beat later, sliding her blade deep into the side of the other one’s skull. It twitched violently, then went still, collapsing into her arms.

But just as they both exhaled — almost done — a sharp clink rang out.

A dusty, forgotten bottle rolled off a nearby table, knocked loose by Joel’s boot. It struck the floor with a sound like a gunshot in the quiet, bouncing once... twice...

The final clicker’s head snapped toward them. It let out a guttural screech, charging like a bullet, its claws stretched wide.

“Shit—!” Joel started, but it was too fast.

The thing collided with him, knocking him flat onto the floor. His rifle clattered against the wall as the clicker landed on top, snarling and clawing, jaws snapping inches from his throat. Joel struggled beneath it, arm pinned, his other hand barely keeping its teeth at bay.

“Joel!” Ellie screamed, already in motion.

She lunged forward, drove her blade deep into the base of the clicker’s neck. Once. Twice. Blood spattered across her mask, her hands. The thing spasmed, then collapsed on top of him, twitching violently before going still.

Breathing hard, Ellie shoved the corpse aside and knelt beside Joel, gripping his arm. “Are you okay?”

Joel let out a shuddering breath, the kind that comes after adrenaline crashes. He blinked up at her, chest heaving. “Yeah...” he rasped, reaching for her hand.

She pulled him up, helping him to his feet. His joints popped as he straightened, wincing.

“I’m too old for this shit,” he muttered, brushing off his shirt.

Ellie snorted. “C’mon, you ain’t that old.”

Joel gave her a skeptical side-eye as he rotated his shoulder with a groan. “Keep talkin’, kid, and you’ll be the one carryin’ me back.”

He stretched once more before nodding toward the hallway ahead. “Let’s move.”

They made their way to the exit — or what should’ve been one. A steel-reinforced door stood in their path, warped and blocked by debris on the other side. Joel grunted, running a hand down its rusted surface.

“Locked up tight,” he said, stepping back.

That’s when he saw it — a jagged hole smashed into the nearby wall, barely wide enough to slip through. Bits of plaster and crumbling insulation lined the floor around it.

Joel leaned forward, squinting into the darkness. “Looks like there’s another way out through here.”

He motioned with his hand, and they both crouched low, easing into the narrow space. The air was stale and thick with mildew. Broken pipes jutted from the ceiling, leaking slow, rhythmic drops into unseen puddles. Joel went first, ducking under a sagging pipe and angling his body sideways to squeeze through. Ellie followed closely behind.

As she dipped under the pipe, her shoulder nudged it just slightly — a small metallic creak echoed above them.

They froze.

Ellie’s eyes snapped to Joel’s. “Did you hear—”

The sound came like a freight train — a deafening roar that rattled the broken walls. Before she could move, the far wall to their left exploded inward in a cloud of dust and brick. The force knocked her off her feet, pain blooming in her back as she crashed to the floor. Her ears rang, the impact stealing her breath.

Through the settling debris, she saw it.

The bloater.

It stood nearly seven feet tall, its body a grotesque mass of bulbous, fungal growths. Its skin was barely visible beneath layers of hardened Cordyceps plates — like tree bark fused to muscle. Thick fungal ridges pulsated along its neck and shoulders, glowing faintly with infection. Its arms were massive, ending in fingers twisted by disease into grotesque claws. With a guttural hiss, it stomped toward her, slow but purposeful — an unstoppable wall of rot and rage.

Ellie’s heart pounded in her chest as she scrambled backward.

“Ellie!” Joel’s voice roared from somewhere behind the dust cloud.

A gunshot rang out — loud, sharp. The bloater reeled slightly, its back jerking with the impact of the bullet. It turned away from Ellie, releasing a thunderous growl as it zeroed in on its new target.

Joel stood just beyond the breach, rifle braced against his shoulder, already chambering another round. “Come on, you ugly son of a bitch,” he yelled through gritted teeth, squeezing off another shot.

Ellie coughed, lungs burning as dust swirled around her. Her hand gripped the pistol at her hip, fingers trembling only for a second before muscle memory kicked in. She snapped the slide back, chambering a round as she pushed into a sprint, heart hammering in sync with every footfall.

“Hey!” Joel’s voice rang out like thunder, drawing the bloater’s attention. “Over here, you goddamn fungus freak!”

The bloater let out a strangled, wet roar and changed course toward him, its massive feet pounding into the ground hard enough to shake loose bits of plaster from the ceiling.

Ellie raised her pistol and fired — one, two, three rounds slamming into the bloater’s back. The shots tore through chunks of hardened fungus, but it barely flinched, thick spores misting from the ruptures like toxic smoke.

“Ugh, come on!” she shouted, frustration riding her breath.

Joel dropped to one knee beside a broken table, firing controlled bursts from his rifle. Each round found its mark — one catching the bloater just below its shoulder, another in the upper thigh. It staggered for a heartbeat, bellowed, then charged.

“Ellie! MOVE!”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

She dove behind a ruined front desk as the bloater slammed into the wall where Joel had been, smashing through drywall and ancient wooden studs like paper. Brick and splinters exploded outward as it bulldozed through the barrier, the sheer force of it rattling every nerve in Ellie’s body.

Joel had rolled away just in time, gasping as he scrambled to his feet behind a column. “This thing’s a damn battering ram!”

Ellie crouched and reached into her pack, fingers curling around a familiar glass neck. She pulled out a Molotov, lit the rag with her lighter, and stood up just enough to see the bloater shaking debris from its back.

“Burn, asshole,” she muttered.

She hurled the Molotov.

The bottle arced through the air and shattered against the bloater’s chest. Instantly, flames ignited across its body — the fire clinging to the fungus, curling up its arms and neck. It roared, thrashing wildly, swiping at the blaze as the fire hissed and crackled.

Joel used the opportunity. He fired a clean burst into its gut, where the armor of fungal plates had already split from the heat. Chunks of infected tissue flew out the other side, and the bloater staggered, dropping to one knee.

But it wasn’t dead yet.

With a primal shriek, the bloater surged forward again — one last charge. It barreled through a support beam, sending the ceiling above groaning dangerously. Joel and Ellie split in opposite directions as the bloater skidded to a stop between them, fire still licking at its back.

They moved on instinct — Ellie darting to the right, Joel to the left — the bloater skidding in the center, fire still crackling along its shoulders and back like a cloak of hellfire.

Ellie raised her pistol and squeezed off a shot — but before the bullet could land, the bloater’s massive hand shot out and caught her mid-step.

“Shit!” she cried, the gun flying from her grasp.

It lifted her effortlessly, her body twisting midair as her boots kicked against nothing. The other hand clamped around her head, fingers digging in. Ellie struggled, gritting her teeth, but the monster was strong — impossibly strong. The bloater yanked her head back violently, the other hand jamming thick, fungus-ridden fingers toward her mouth, trying to tear her jaw open like it was unsealing a stubborn fruit.

“Joel!” she managed to scream, muffled by the infected’s grasp.

And then came the roar — not from the bloater, but from Joel.

It wasn’t a yell of fear. It was feral.

Joel charged with his machete drawn, a raw fury flashing in his eyes as he brought the blade down on the bloater’s arm with brutal strength. The first blow tore into the thick fungal hide, exposing blackened rot beneath. The second struck deeper — a spray of spores and gore shooting into the air.

The bloater let out a howl and dropped Ellie like a ragdoll.

She hit the floor hard, gasping as her mask tore free from her face. Her lungs seized briefly — not in fear, but in memory — old instincts trying to scream, you can’t breathe here, even though she knew better.

Joel didn’t stop.

He hacked into the bloater again and again — a frenzy of steel and rage. His breath was loud, desperate, wet with emotion. The bloater finally collapsed under the blows, a gurgling wheeze escaping its ruined throat before it slumped into a flaming, quivering heap.

Joel stood over it, chest heaving, the machete dripping with thick, black fluid.

He turned sharply, eyes finding Ellie.

“Ellie!” he rushed to her, dropping to his knees. “You alright?!”

She coughed once, blinking the dust and blood from her eyes. “Yeah,” she gasped. “I’m... I’m fine.”

Joel let out a trembling breath, his hand braced on her shoulder. “Jesus...” He looked at her torn mask on the floor and then to her exposed face. “Your mask—”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, eyes locking with his. “I can’t get infected. Remember?”

His jaw flexed, torn between the relief of hearing her voice and the bone-deep fear that still echoed through him. He gave a small nod, but his voice was hard again. “We need to get outta here.”

“Agreed,” Ellie muttered, wiping the blood from her mouth.

They stood together, moving quickly through the ruined hall, stepping over broken furniture and chunks of the collapsed ceiling. Joel’s shoulders were tight, his steps fast and forceful.

“We’ll send a team back out here,” he muttered as they passed another smoldering corridor. “Clear the rest. See if there’s any stragglers hidin’ in the walls.”

Ellie nodded, reloading her pistol. “Yeah. This place is crawling.”

They rounded a corner and spotted it — a faint sliver of sunlight pouring through the crack of a door up ahead.

“There.” Joel motioned. “Through here.”

He placed his shoulder to the door and pushed. It groaned in protest, the wood swollen from years of neglect, but finally gave way just enough for him to squeeze through. Ellie slipped in behind him, careful not to jostle the broken frame.

They emerged into what used to be the hotel dining area. The remains of long-forgotten meals still dotted the overturned tables. Mold crept along the faded carpet. But sunlight spilled in through boarded-up windows, painting slanted beams of gold across the room, cutting through the gloom like hope itself.

Joel pulled off his mask, dragging in a deep breath of clean air.

“That’s more like it,” he said, his voice lighter now, tinged with tired relief. “Here’s the exit.”

Ellie stepped forward, ready to follow—but a sudden feral screech echoed through the dining hall. Heavy footsteps pounded across broken tile. She barely turned in time to catch a glimpse of movement—an infected, sprinting straight for her.

Too close.

But before it could reach her, Joel raised his pistol and fired. One shot. Clean. The runner’s body crumpled mid-step, collapsing in a sickening heap just feet away from Ellie.

Joel lowered the gun slowly, his face unreadable. “We gotta go,” he muttered, scanning the dark corners of the room. “Don’t know how many more of ‘em are hidin’ around here.”

Ellie opened her mouth to agree—but something caught her eye. A body. Human.

Not infected.

She walked toward it cautiously. It was slumped beside a broken dining table, the dusty floor around it stained dark red. The clothes were soaked with old blood, the figure small—young. Her brow furrowed as she crouched down, noting the second body a few feet away, its head resting gently against the wall.

A folded piece of paper sat beside the first. Ellie picked it up, the edges crinkled and soft with age. She unfolded it carefully and began to read aloud.

“Jackson is a wonderful place, but we got tired of hearing the stories of people suffering everywhere else. We wanted to save lives. We had good intentions. We didn’t make it an hour before running into a horde. Now we’re bitten. We’ve decided we’re going to end our lives instead of turning. Please tell our family and friends that we’re sorry. Love, Adam and Sidney.”

Ellie flipped the page. There was more—scrawled in different handwriting, jagged and desperate.

“I shot her. I can’t take my own life. I'm a fucking coward. Adam.”

Joel moved closer, looking down over her shoulder. His face was tight, mouth set in a grim line.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

They were young—no older than Ellie. Months ago, two kids had vanished from Jackson. No word. No trail. Just gone. People assumed they’d made it out. Or died somewhere far away.

But they’d been here the whole time.

Ellie looked at the letter again, her voice soft. “If only they were immune, right?”

She didn’t look up, but she felt Joel stiffen beside her. He didn’t answer. Didn’t even acknowledge it.

Instead, he spoke quickly. Almost too quickly.

“Well... let’s go find Tommy. We’ll need help gettin’ these kids back to Jackson.” He took a step back, shouldering his rifle like he was ready to leave it all behind.

But Ellie didn’t move. Not yet. She looked at him, something burning quietly behind her eyes.

“After you took me out of the Firefly hospital... you said there were dozens of people like me.”

Joel stopped in his tracks. His shoulders rose and fell with one shallow breath. He didn’t turn around.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Yeah, that’s what they told me.”

Ellie stood still, her fingers absently brushing over the tattoo that spiraled down her forearm. It was a nervous habit, one that had followed her through the years like a scar she couldn’t quite stop picking at.

“I’ve never met another immune person before,” she said quietly, voice almost lost beneath the creak of the old floorboards. “Have you?” 

Joel didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened as he looked away from her, scanning the dusty room like he might find an answer hidden in the wreckage.

“They could be hidin’ it,” he finally said. “You do.”

Ellie scoffed softly, her voice flat. “Do you believe that?”

The question lingered in the air like the spores they’d left behind—heavy and suffocating. Joel’s posture shifted, a subtle tension pulling at his shoulders. He hated talking about this. He always had.

“Is now really the time for this?” he muttered, already moving toward the door.

Ellie didn’t let up. She followed.

“We traveled across the entire goddamn country,” she said, heat rising in her voice. “I had so many questions. I thought the Fireflies were gonna help me understand why I’m like this. Why I’m not like everybody else. But instead, I wake up in the back of a car, half-conscious, with you saying it’s over—just like that.”

Joel didn’t turn around.

“And don’t give me that line about how they let you leave. Marlene? She wouldn’t just let me go. Not after everything.”

Joel stopped. His back was rigid, spine straight as a steel beam.

“I let ‘em run their tests,” he said tightly. “When I saw it wasn’t goin’ anywhere, I got us the hell out of there. Simple as that.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. Her voice cracked, anger straining against the grief beneath it.

“How do you know they weren’t close? You didn’t even wait. Maybe if you had just given them more time—maybe they could’ve figured it out!”

Joel turned now, and there was something wild in his eyes. Grief. Regret. Fear. All buried under the stubborn, haunted armor he wore like a second skin.

“Ellie!”

He barked her name loud enough to make the walls echo. She flinched.

Then his voice dropped to a tremble. Soft. Hurting.

“There was no cure. Not for them.” He glanced back at the two bodies lying on the cold tile behind them. “Not for those kids. Not for anybody. I know you want things to be different.” He looked at her fully now, eyes glassy with emotion he didn’t want to show. “I do too. But they ain’t.”

Ellie swallowed hard, the pressure behind her eyes threatening to break.

Joel turned away again and walked to the door. His hand hovered over the rusted handle, his voice hoarse.

“We need to get them home. Their people deserve to know. Or... is there somethin’ else you wanna rehash?”

Ellie stood still. The weight of everything—what was lost, what was taken, what might’ve been—pressed down like a boot to the chest.

“No,” she whispered.

Joel nodded, the tension in his body loosening just enough to show how much he’d been holding in.

“Good.” He opened the front door, sunlight spilling across the warped floor. “C’mon.”

Ellie didn’t move at first. Just stood there, watching the way the light hit the letter in her hand—Adam and Sidney. Another set of names in a long list of ghosts.

Then, without a word, she followed.

They stepped outside, leaving behind the silence, and the truth buried within it.

---

It was heartbreaking bringing the bodies back to Jackson.

As the gates creaked open and the wagon rolled in, a hush fell over the gathered crowd. Then came the sound Ellie would never forget—a mother’s scream. Raw. Shattered. The kind that came from a place so deep inside a person, it seemed inhuman. Both families crumpled where they stood, falling to their knees beside the bloodied stretchers. A father buried his face in his hands, the tremble in his shoulders saying what his voice couldn't. A younger sibling wailed somewhere behind them, clinging to one of the patrol guards like he might vanish too.

Ellie stood back, watching it all unfold with a sick heaviness in her gut. She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

She could be bitten a hundred times and walk away like nothing happened. But for anyone else? One bite was all it took. One mistake. One second too slow. Adam and Sidney hadn’t even lasted a full day.

Joel stood beside her, silent, his face unreadable as always. But his eyes were tight, like the pain had found its way under the armor he wore so well.

Ellie’s thoughts drifted back to what he said in the hotel. There was no cure.

Was there really no one else like her? Maybe someone was hiding it—just like her. But how long could a person keep a secret like that before it broke them?

“Ellie!”

She turned just as Dina came sprinting toward her, boots kicking up dust. The second she reached her, Dina threw her arms around Ellie’s shoulders, gripping her tight. Her scent—woodsmoke and soap—hit Ellie’s nose, grounding her.

“What the hell happened?” Dina pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, concern wrinkling her brow.

Ellie tried to shrug it off, but the weight was still there. “You know that old abandoned hotel near the music store?”

Dina nodded slowly.

“Well… it was packed. Runners, clickers, a goddamn bloater.”

Jesse, coming up beside them, let out a low whistle. “You took out a bloater?” He raised his eyebrows. “Damn, Williams. That’s impressive.”

Ellie gave a half-hearted nod, rubbing the back of her neck, her eyes flicking toward the families still grieving behind her.

“Yeah… but we also found that couple that ran off a few months ago.” Her voice dropped as she gestured subtly toward the bodies wrapped in bloodied sheets. “Adam and Sidney.”

Dina’s expression shifted immediately, eyes darting to the mourning crowd. “Oh… shit.”

“Yeah.” Ellie exhaled, long and slow. Her limbs felt heavy, her brain sluggish from the adrenaline crash. “Hey… you guys wanna come over tonight? Watch a movie or something? I don’t really feel like being alone.”

Jesse tilted his head. “What about Cat?”

Dina rolled her eyes, and it was subtle, no one caught it. 

“She’s on dinner prep duty,” Ellie answered quickly. “Won’t be out till late.”

“We’ll be there,” Dina said before Jesse could say anything else. She placed a hand gently on Ellie’s shoulder, her thumb brushing against the seam of Ellie’s shirt. “Of course.”

Ellie gave a faint smile. “Cool. I’ll dig out one of the old tapes.”

As Jesse wandered off to help with the unloading, Dina lingered. She watched Ellie for a moment longer than necessary, eyes scanning her like she wanted to say something else. But then she just nodded and stepped back.

The truth was, Dina had been avoiding Ellie lately. Not out of anger—not even confusion—but because Cat’s constant presence made everything feel... off. Crowded. Like the room didn’t have space for the two of them anymore. But now, seeing Ellie like this—shaken and vulnerable—Dina didn’t care. She just wanted to be there. Like before.

And tonight, she would be.

---

Ellie sat cross-legged on the old mattress in her room, her fingers dancing lightly over the strings of her guitar. A soft, melancholic melody floated through the air, wrapping the space in a gentle hush. She hummed along quietly, barely forming the words to a song she half-remembered—something about leaving, about holding on and letting go. It helped ease her nerves, dull the edge of the day’s chaos. At least for a little while.

But then—knock knock knock.

She froze, her fingers stalling mid-chord. Her eyes flicked to the clock nailed above the crooked bookcase. It was too early. Dina and Jesse weren’t due for another hour. Frowning, Ellie set the guitar down carefully against the wall and pushed herself to her feet.

The knock came again—quick, impatient.

She padded over to the garage door and pulled it open.

Before she could speak, a blur of movement collided with her. A pair of arms wrapped tight around her neck as Cat practically launched herself into Ellie’s arms, causing her to grunt in surprise and stumble back a step, catching the omega instinctively.

“Shit,” Ellie breathed, a laugh catching in her throat. “Hi to you too.”

Cat held on a moment longer before pulling back just enough to look her in the face, her eyes scanning with fierce urgency. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brows pinched, voice thick with concern.

Ellie blinked, still processing her girlfriend’s sudden appearance. “I thought you had—”

“I swapped with Gale when Jesse told me what happened,” Cat cut in. “A fucking bloater, Ellie?”

Ellie chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah… I mean, not the first one I’ve seen.”

That was true, technically. But it was the first one that had nearly torn her face in two. She left that part out.

Cat didn’t laugh. Her eyes were still scanning Ellie’s body, searching for blood, bruises, any trace of a bite. She even glanced down at Ellie’s hands, as if expecting them to tremble.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Ellie smirked. “Nah, I was actually bit,” she said, deadpan, before contorting her face and twitching like a clicker. “Kkk-kk-chkk—rrgh—”

Cat immediately shoved her, not hard, but with enough frustration to make Ellie stumble back a step, laughing.

“Don’t be a dick,” Cat snapped, reaching past her to pull the garage door closed. “I was really worried.”

Ellie smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. As you can see—” She turned in a lazy circle, arms spread. “I’m in one piece.”

Cat let out a breath, equal parts relieved and exasperated. “So what happened?”

Without answering right away, Ellie walked over to the bed and flopped onto it with a soft grunt. Cat followed, settling beside her and gently tugging Ellie’s arm so the alpha would lie down, her head naturally finding a spot resting on Cat’s chest. She traced aimless patterns on Ellie’s hoodie with the tips of her fingers.

“It was a normal patrol,” Ellie murmured after a while, eyes fixed on the ceiling beams above. “Joel and I decided to cut through this abandoned hotel—looked safe enough. Turns out it was crawling with infected. Clickers. A bloater.”

Cat hissed under her breath. “Shit…”

Ellie nodded slightly. “Yeah. It was a shitshow.” Her voice grew quieter. “We found those two kids who ran off months ago. Adam and Sidney.”

Cat didn’t say anything for a while, just rested her hand still on Ellie’s chest. Finally, she asked, “Are you… feeling okay?”

It was a simple question—but it struck something deep. Ellie blinked slowly, her throat tightening with words she couldn’t say. She could never tell Cat about her immunity. It was already a miracle that Maria and Tommy kept their mouths shut. One more person knowing increased the danger—for Ellie, and for Cat.

“I dunno,” Ellie said, avoiding the question entirely. “Can I ask you something?”

Cat tilted her head, looking down at her. “Of course. Anything.”

“Okay, so… hypothetically,” Ellie started, trying to sound casual. “Let’s say you were immune.”

That earned a sudden laugh from Cat, bright and surprised. “Me? Immune? That’s rich.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and lightly slapped her stomach. “Don’t laugh, I’m being serious.”

“Alright, alright. I’m listening.”

“Say you were immune. And you had two options,” Ellie explained slowly, her voice growing more focused. “You could go looking for doctors, scientists, someone—whatever—and maybe, maybe, they figure out a cure using your immunity.” She swallowed before continuing. “Or you could hide it. Live a normal life. Pretend you were just like everyone else.”

Cat grew quiet, her fingers pausing mid-pattern.

“Would I die if they tried to make a cure?”

Ellie exhaled. “Let’s say yeah. Best-case, they kill you trying to find a cure.”

Cat sat up slowly, shifting so she straddled Ellie’s waist, her expression serious now. “Then I’d keep it hidden. No question.”

Ellie looked up at her, searching her face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Cat said, brushing some hair from Ellie’s forehead. “The world’s already gone to hell. Even if there was a vaccine, how would you distribute it? Would people even trust it? Or use it? What if it just made things worse?” She was rambling now, getting more animated.

“But wouldn’t you…” Ellie hesitated, voice softening. “Wouldn’t you feel bad? For the people you couldn’t save?”

Her mind drifted—Sam, who turned in the night. Riley, whose laughter still echoed in Ellie’s dreams. Tess. Henry. Even people like Adam and Sidney, who’d made a stupid, brave choice and died alone for it.

Cat stared at her for a moment, all the humor gone now. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Ellie’s. “Maybe. I’d probably carry that guilt every day. But I’d rather carry it alive, with the people I love. Than die for a maybe.”

The words hit Ellie harder than she expected. They echoed in her chest, sitting heavy in a place already burdened by too much grief. She didn’t respond—not with words. She just closed her eyes for a beat, letting the moment settle between them like dust in sunlight.

But then Cat’s hands were moving, slow and deliberate. She reached for the zipper of Ellie’s hoodie and began to tug it down, her voice soft and playful. “Now, I have missed you terribly.”

Ellie let out a surprised laugh, lifting her arms as the hoodie slipped away. “You saw me this morning.”

Cat didn’t flinch. “That was far too long.”

She pushed Ellie gently back down onto the mattress, her hands finding familiar paths along her waist and ribs. Ellie’s laughter softened into a low hum as Cat leaned down, brushing a line of kisses along her collarbone, then her throat, then lower.

Ellie’s breath hitched when fingers found the hem of her shirt, lifting it inch by inch with teasing slowness. Her hands threaded through Cat’s hair as the beta kissed her way down, her touch reverent, as if grounding them both after a day filled with death and ghosts.

By the time Cat’s fingers found the buckle of Ellie’s pants, the alpha let out a groan—half amusement, half anticipation.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Ellie muttered, her voice a bit breathless.

Cat only smirked, eyes glittering. “You nearly got yourself killed by a bloater. I think I’m entitled to show you exactly how much that pissed me off.”

Ellie didn’t argue. Her head tipped back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as Cat finally reached her destination. The tension, the guilt, the weight of it all began to melt under each careful touch.

It was going to be a long night—but for the first time in days, Ellie didn’t mind that at all.

---

Ellie fully owned up to forgetting her plans with Dina and Jesse—but in her defense, her girlfriend had been extremely distracting.

“Ellie,” Cat moaned into her neck, her breath warm against flushed skin as the headboard knocked rhythmically against the wall. Ellie let out a deep, shuddering groan, her hands gripping Cat’s hips tightly, guiding each slow, deliberate movement.

They had lost track of time, wrapped up in each other for what felt like hours. Every kiss, every touch was familiar but still electric. Cat had a way of knowing exactly what Ellie needed—how to make her feel grounded, wanted. It wasn’t just about pleasure; it was the way Cat looked at her, like she saw all of Ellie’s cracks and didn’t mind the broken edges.

Cat let out another breathless moan, her movements growing more urgent. The bed creaked beneath them quicker, the headboard thudding louder against the wall, drowning out everything but the heat between them—until the unmistakable sound of the garage door sliding open cut through the haze like a blade.

A rush of cold air swept into the room, hitting their bare skin like a bucket of ice water.

Ellie’s eyes flew open just in time to see Dina and Jesse frozen in the doorway—equally shocked, wide-eyed and blinking in stunned silence. It took no more than a heartbeat before Dina’s expression twisted, her hand shooting out to grab Jesse by the collar.

“Out!” she snapped, yanking him backward and slamming the door shut so hard it rattled in the frame.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Ellie muttered, burying her face in her hands as she and Cat scrambled beneath the tangled sheets. Her heart pounded in her ears, not from passion anymore but mortification. She could barely look up.

Cat, however, looked almost amused, adjusting the blankets casually as if nothing had happened. “Did they never hear of knocking?” she said dryly.

Ellie groaned into her palms. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.”

Cat peeled Ellie’s hands away, her expression softening slightly as she leaned down to meet her gaze. “You good, Williams?”

“No,” Ellie groaned again, her face still flushed. “Definitely not.”

A soft laugh escaped Cat’s lips as she leaned in to kiss her—gentle, teasing, but comforting in its own way. “Why are you so embarrassed? They know we have sex.”

Ellie exhaled heavily. “Yeah, well… Dina.”

At that, Cat sat back, her expression faltering for the first time. Her jaw tightened just enough for Ellie to notice—though not quite enough for her to comment.

“Why does it matter what she thinks?” Cat said, voice low, the slightest edge of something sharp buried under the question.

Ellie blinked, missing the undertone. “It just does, I guess. She’s been weird with me lately, and now this? She's gonna think I blew her off on purpose.”

Cat rolled her eyes and shifted out of bed, beginning to gather her scattered clothes. “Then maybe she should get over it.”

Ellie watched her, frowning slightly. “Cat…”

But her girlfriend was already pulling on her shirt, her back turned.

“Where are you going?” Ellie asked, brows furrowed as she watched Cat tug on her jeans, her movements suddenly sharp and clipped.

“Home,” Cat said flatly, not even looking at her as she grabbed her boots and started slipping them on.

Ellie sat up in bed, the sheets pooling around her waist. “Wait, what? Why? What’s wrong?” Her voice was laced with confusion. Just minutes ago, they’d been tangled in each other—laughing, warm, safe. Now, the air had turned to ice.

Cat let out a humorless scoff, shaking her head as she stood. “Why don’t you go and ask Dina?” she snapped, her voice brittle and sharp. She yanked open the door and slammed it behind her before Ellie could even respond.

“What the fuck…” Ellie muttered, staring at the closed door like it might swing back open and offer some kind of explanation.

She dropped back onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, rubbing her hands over her face. “Damn omegas,” she groaned, though the words were more tired than angry.

Her thoughts spun. One second, Cat had been moaning in her arms. The next, she was storming out like Ellie had done something unforgivable. And maybe she had—but hell if she knew what.

It always came back to Dina.

Ellie knew there was tension between the two women, but no one would tell her why. Not Cat. Not Dina. Just passive glances and loaded silences. And now this—whatever this was.

She stared up at the ceiling, jaw tight.

Should she go after her? Apologize for… what, exactly?

She didn’t even know.

All she knew was that everything had felt fine—and now it didn’t.

And she hated that.

”This is some bullshit.” 

Chapter 6: Saint Mary’s

Ellie exhaled slowly, the breath misting in the cool morning air as she stood atop the Jackson wall, her rifle slung loosely in her hands. Below her stretched a vast sprawl of forest and rolling hills, tinged gold by the early sun creeping over the horizon. The world looked calm from up here—still, almost peaceful. She would’ve preferred patrol, where at least movement and adrenaline kept her mind busy. But today, she was stuck on wall duty—hours of standing still and watching.

The warmth of the rising sun hit her face, chasing off the last of the chill, but it did little to ease the weight in her chest. It had been a few weeks since Dina and Jesse had walked in on her and Cat. The fallout hadn’t been pretty. She’d spent the days after groveling—awkward, guilt-ridden conversations with Dina, clumsy apologies with Cat. Somehow, miraculously, she’d been forgiven… for now.

Still, things hadn’t quite gone back to normal. Not fully.

She shifted her grip on the rifle, eyes scanning the tree line, wishing something—anything—would move.

At least then she’d have something else to think about.

And then—something did move.

Ellie stiffened, eyes narrowing as a flicker of motion caught her attention through the treeline. She raised her rifle, steady but cautious, squinting through the scope. A shadow shifted. Then another. Figures, emerging from the brush.

She let out a sharp whistle, low and short—enough to grab attention without triggering panic. A few of the other guards along the wall turned, following the direction her barrel pointed.

“Got eyes on somethin’,” she muttered into her radio. Her voice was calm, but she could feel her pulse picking up.

From the forest, four people began making their way toward the wall, slow and deliberate. Three women and one man. They walked with the uneven gait of exhaustion, clothes hanging off their frames in tatters, caked in mud and dried blood. One limped slightly. Another clutched her side, a bandage half-soaked in crimson. They looked like they’d crawled through hell to get here—and maybe they had.

Ellie studied their faces as they came closer. Two of the women looked to be around her age, maybe even younger by a year or two. Skinny, sunburnt, eyes wary. The man and the other woman were older—Joel’s age, maybe older—with hardened faces and tired, guarded eyes. They carried no visible weapons. Just the weight of whatever they’d survived.

Ellie’s fingers tightened around her rifle. She didn’t lower it.

“Travelers,” she called down. “Stop right there!”

The group halted immediately, raising their hands in practiced unison—like they’d done this before. Like they knew the drill.

“We’re not infected!” one of the younger women shouted, her voice raw. “We’re just looking for food… shelter… anything.”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. She glanced over at the other guards, one of whom was already radioing for Maria and Tommy.

Her eyes returned to the group. Something about them tugged at her—maybe it was the way the older woman stood slightly in front of the others, protective. Or the look in the youngest girl’s eyes—too hollow for someone who should still be a kid.

Still, Jackson didn’t let just anyone in. And people were often more dangerous than the infected.

She kept her rifle up.

“Stay right there,” she said, voice steady. “Don’t move.”

It didn’t take long for Maria to come climbing up the stairs, boots thudding against the metal as she approached. She moved with purpose, hair pulled back tight, rifle slung across her back. Ellie stepped slightly to the side to give her room, but her eyes never left the four strangers below.

Maria scanned the group, her gaze sharp, calculating. “Are you armed?” she called out, voice cutting across the open space like a whip crack.

The older woman glanced at the man beside her. Something silent passed between them—an agreement, or maybe a moment of hesitation—before she nodded.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have a handgun in my back pocket.”

Maria didn’t flinch. “Reach for it. Slowly. One wrong move and you’ll be picking lead out of your teeth.”

The woman moved carefully, turning slightly to the side so her movements were visible. Her fingers trembled as she reached behind her and pulled the pistol free, lowering it to the ground with deliberate care. She stepped back.

Maria's eyes flicked to the rest. “Anyone else?”

The woman gestured to the others with a jerk of her chin. “They’re carrying too.”

Reluctantly, the younger women and the man began pulling weapons from beneath coats and waistbands—nothing heavy. A small revolver, a rusted switchblade, a utility knife. They set them on the dirt and stepped away, hands raised again.

Maria gave a slow nod, expression unreadable. “Good. Keep your hands where I can see them. No sudden movements.”

Then she turned toward the wall guards below. “Open the gate!”

There was a brief pause—a murmur between guards—before the heavy metal gate began to grind open, gears screeching and dust flaring from the ground. Ellie watched the group carefully. They didn’t look dangerous. They looked… spent. But she’d seen that before too. Exhaustion could be a mask just like anything else.

As the gate opened wider, Maria spoke low enough for only Ellie to hear. “I want you to walk with them. Keep your eyes open. We’ll take them to the intake barn for questioning and medical.”

Ellie gave a small nod. “Got it.”

When the gate finally groaned to a full stop, Maria raised her hand and signaled them in.

“Welcome to Jackson,” she said, not unkindly, but not warm either. “Walk slow. Keep your hands up.”

The four strangers stepped past the threshold like they were afraid the ground might fall out from under them. Their faces flicked with disbelief, suspicion, and something deeper—hope, maybe, buried beneath layers of fatigue and fear.

Maria and Ellie descended the steps from the watchtower, boots clanging against the metal before crunching into the dirt below. Now eye-level with the newcomers, the tension in the air was palpable.

The older woman, who clearly had taken the lead for their group, raised a wary brow. “Where are you taking us?”

Maria kept her pace steady. “First stop is medical,” she replied plainly. “You’ve clearly been through it. We’ll get you checked for bites, patch up anything that needs tending to, and get you cleaned up.”

Her eyes lingered on the limp in the younger girl’s step and the blood-soaked wrap on the woman’s side.

“We’ll also be holding onto your weapons for now,” Maria continued. “They’ll be stored in our intake lockers, returned if and when you're cleared. Standard procedure.”

The woman hesitated—just for a breath. Her jaw tightened, eyes flicking to the others in her group. Ellie could see it in her face: desperation warring with caution. Finally, she gave a small, exhausted nod.

“Alright,” she said. “Fair enough.”

Maria gave a short nod in return and turned, leading the group toward the intake barn on the far side of town. It wasn’t a long walk, but it always felt like one—for newcomers, and for those walking behind them with guns in hand.

Ellie fell into step behind the strangers, rifle held low but ready, eyes scanning the slight movements in their shoulders, the way their heads tilted when they passed each building or heard a shout in the distance. They weren’t tourists—they were survivors. And survivors always carried something with them.

The dirt crunched beneath Ellie’s boots as they walked. No one spoke. The air was thick with tension, only broken by the creak of a windmill overhead and the occasional bark of a dog somewhere deeper in Jackson.

One of the younger girls stumbled slightly, and the older woman caught her with a hand to the shoulder. Ellie watched the gesture—automatic, protective. Family, maybe. Or something close.

She tightened her grip on the rifle and kept walking. They weren’t safe yet.

Not until Jackson decided they were.

They finally arrived at the intake building—an old converted barn with heavy reinforced doors and wide open space inside. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the makeshift medical bay. As Maria pulled open the doors, a small team of medics and assistants were already waiting, ready to assess new arrivals.

“Bring them in,” Maria said, holding the door as Ellie motioned the group inside.

The strangers moved hesitantly, eyes darting around the room like they expected an ambush. But when they saw the medical staff—gloved hands, clean bandages, soft voices—the tension in their shoulders began to ease, just slightly.

The care team immediately began to fuss over them. One medic gently took the youngest girl’s arm to examine a bruise. Another helped the man remove his tattered coat, revealing a deep scrape along his ribs. There was no small talk—just quiet instructions, nods of reassurance, and the soft hiss of disinfectant spray.

Ellie stepped back into the corner of the room, watching silently with her rifle slung loosely over her shoulder. Maria moved beside her, her voice low.

“What do you think?”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. Her gaze lingered on the oldest woman, who was now sitting on a cot, her bandaged side freshly cleaned and dressed.

“They seem harmless,” she finally said, voice just above a whisper. “Tired. Scared. The real deal.” She shifted her weight, lowering her tone further. “But still... how’d they find us? You know how careful we are with the perimeter.”

Maria nodded slowly, her jaw tight. “Exactly what I was thinking.” She crossed her arms. “Could be dumb luck… or someone out there’s getting sloppy.”

“Or someone told them.”

Maria said nothing, but her eyes flicked toward the entrance before returning to the group.

Some time passed. Ellie remained in her corner, quiet and observant, while the medics worked. The strangers had been allowed into the adjoining wash stalls, old horse stalls retrofitted with privacy curtains and warm running water. Steam rose from the edges, and for the first time, the newcomers began to shed the grime and wear of their journey.

When they reemerged, they looked human again. Clean skin, damp hair, fresh clothes provided by the community stockpile—ill-fitting but warm. They didn’t look dangerous now. Just exhausted.

The older woman stepped forward, running a hand through her damp, graying hair. She approached Maria, her posture humble but not broken.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse but sincere. “For all this. We’ve been on the road for months. Slept under trees, hid in cellars, ran from more infected than I care to count. I didn’t think we’d make it this far.”

Maria gave a curt nod, folding her arms. “You’re here now. We’ll figure out the next steps once you're rested.”

The woman nodded, swallowing thickly. Then, as if remembering herself, she offered, “My name’s Leah. That’s my husband, Derrick. And the girls…” She turned slightly, gesturing to the two teens now standing behind her, wrapped in towels and oversized flannel shirts. “That’s Mia and Callie. My daughters.”

Ellie’s eyes flicked to the girls. Mia—the older one, maybe sixteen—stood tall despite the fatigue. Callie was smaller, maybe thirteen, and stayed half-shielded behind her sister.

Leah looked between Maria and Ellie, emotion tugging at her features. “We’re not looking to take advantage. We just need a place to stop running.”

Maria gave her a long look, eyes unreadable. Then she stepped forward and extended her hand, firm and assured. “Maria Miller. I help run things around here.”

Leah hesitated, then shook her hand.

Maria gestured back toward Ellie. “That’s Ellie. My niece.”

Ellie didn’t flinch, nor correct her.

Maria crossed her arms again, taking on the familiar air of someone laying down expectations. “Jackson is a safe zone. We’ve worked hard to keep it that way. If you want to stay, there are some rules you’ll need to follow.”

Leah nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“Weapons stay locked up. If you’re caught with one outside the armory without clearance, you’re out. No exceptions.”

Leah glanced back at her husband and daughters, who nodded in unison. “Understood.”

“Everyone pulls their weight,” Maria continued. “We’ll let you rest for now, but after that, we’ll figure out where you’re best suited. Farming, patrol rotations, kitchens, construction—whatever you can handle. No freeloading.”

“That’s fair,” Derrick spoke up, his voice low but respectful. “We’ll work.”

Maria’s expression didn’t soften, but it lost a little of its edge. “Good. Last thing—and it’s important—no sneaking around. No hiding bites. You feel sick, you report it. Right away. We’ve got people depending on this place. We can’t afford one person putting the whole town at risk.”

Ellie watched their reactions carefully, scanning for hesitation, doubt, fear. But all she saw was weary acceptance. Leah even looked relieved.

“Of course,” she said, her voice catching a little. “We’re not stupid. We’ve lost people too.”

Maria gave one final nod. “Then we’ll get you settled in a temporary shelter for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll talk next steps.”

“Thank you,” Leah said softly once more, her voice gentler now, almost reverent. Despite her exhaustion, there was a flicker of hope behind her eyes—a fragile thing, but there.

Maria gave a small, guarded smile. “Welcome to Jackson.”

As the woman turned to follow the others out, something caught Ellie’s eye—a small glint of silver that swung with the motion of Leah’s step. A pendant. Not just any pendant.

A firefly.

Ellie’s breath caught. Her eyes sharpened.

“You’re a Firefly.”

The words left her before she could stop them, quiet but razor-sharp, slicing the calm in the room. Maria’s head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing slightly with unspoken questions.

Leah froze. Her hand instinctively came up to her chest, fingers wrapping around the pendant like it might protect her.

“I was,” she said cautiously. “A long time ago. But not anymore.”

Ellie stepped forward, her voice still level but firmer now. “Where were you stationed?”

Leah hesitated. “An outpost in Utah.”

“Utah?” Ellie’s eyes narrowed further. Her mind was racing. Her chest had gone tight. “You mean Saint Mary’s?”

“No,” Leah shook her head quickly. “No, not Saint Mary’s. We were at a different facility.“ her fingers tightened around the pendant, her shoulders sagging as if the truth weighed more than she’d admitted out loud in years. “After Marlene died, that was it. Everything just… fell apart. The chain of command broke. Communications went silent. We were scattered, lost. Some stayed behind. Most didn’t. There are no Fireflies anymore.”

Ellie’s breath hitched. She took another step forward, her voice trembling—not with fear, but with disbelief. “Marlene’s dead?”

Leah looked at her then—really looked at her. There was something in Ellie’s tone, something personal. Her brow furrowed as she asked, gently, “Did you know her?”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “Yeah,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I knew her.”

For a beat, silence filled the space between them. Maria said nothing, letting the tension settle while her eyes flicked between them, observant.

Ellie stepped in closer. “How the hell did she die?”

Leah shook her head, a pained expression crossing her face. “I don’t know. No one told us. One day she was calling the shots, and the next… she was gone.”

“So you just ran?” Ellie asked, her voice sharper now.

Leah nodded, eyes earnest. “I have a husband. Two daughters. I didn’t want to wait around to see what happened next. I didn’t care anymore. I just… I got them and we left. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t want to know.”

Ellie’s gaze lingered on her—searching for cracks, for lies. But Leah’s expression was only tired. Haunted, even. She looked like someone who had spent years trying to forget something that still followed her anyway.

Maria cleared her throat gently, reasserting control of the moment. “Alright. That’s enough for tonight.” She motioned toward the hallway. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Leah gave a solemn nod, offering one last glance at Ellie before following her family down the corridor, the pendant still clutched in her hand.

As the door shut softly behind them, Ellie stood rooted to the spot, her thoughts churning like a storm.

Marlene was really gone. And this woman, this ex-Firefly, might be the only person left who knew even a fraction of what happened in those final days.

---

Ellie sat in the corner booth of Jackson’s small, warmly lit restaurant, her fork idly shifting the food on her plate. The scent of roasted chicken and herbs hung in the air, but she barely registered it. Thick cuts of golden-brown chicken breast rested beside a mound of buttery mashed potatoes, steam still rising in delicate tendrils. The greens—sautéed kale with garlic—glistened faintly under the soft glow of the overhead lamp, a rare splash of color in a meal that otherwise looked comforting.

But comfort was far from her mind.

Her eyes remained fixed on the plate, not seeing the food in front of her. Her thoughts were tangled in knots, looping back to the firefly pendant, the haunted look in Leah’s eyes, the name that still echoed in her head.

Marlene.

Dead. Gone. And no answers.

Ellie’s stomach churned with more than hunger. She pushed the chicken to the side with her fork, jaw tight, her appetite drowned beneath a rising tide of questions and memories she thought she’d buried long ago.

Dina slid smoothly into the booth across from Ellie, her tray clinking softly against the tabletop. Ellie blinked, pulled from her thoughts, and glanced up. Dina offered her a small, crooked smile—tentative, but not cold.

“This seat taken?” she asked casually, already settling in.

Ellie raised a brow, her voice dry. “You’re already sitting.”

Dina huffed a small laugh, unwrapping her silverware. “Figured I’d ask after the fact. Keep things polite.”

“Yeah, real courteous of you.”

“Hey, I’ve been told I’m charming.”

“By who? Jesse?”

“Mainly Jesse.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Ellie’s mouth despite herself. The tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction, though the weight of the morning still hung behind her eyes. She stabbed a piece of potato and shoved it into her mouth to avoid saying anything more.

Dina tilted her head, studying her for a moment. “You’ve got that look.”

Ellie paused mid-chew. “What look?”

“The ‘I just found out something weird and now I’m spiraling quietly over mashed potatoes’ look.”

Ellie rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “You’re annoyingly observant.”

“Part of my charm.”

Ellie leaned back in the booth, poking at her food again before glancing up. “Where’s Jesse?”

Dina shrugged, leaning her elbow on the table and picking at a bread roll. “Who cares?”

Ellie’s brow quirked. “So… another breakup?”

Dina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Don’t change the subject, Williams.” Her tone was playful, but her gaze sharpened. “What’s up with you? You’ve been somewhere else since I sat down.”

Ellie hesitated, her fork pausing mid-air. “Is this about Cat?” Dina added quickly, her voice a little too light, a little too hopeful.

Ellie shook her head, missing the flicker of something behind Dina’s eyes. “No. Not Cat.” She exhaled slowly, as if forcing the tension out of her lungs. “I just… found out some stuff today. Surprising, that’s all.”

Dina leaned in, suddenly more serious. “What happened?”

Ellie looked down at her tray, pushing a piece of chicken around. Her voice was quieter when she finally answered. “Someone I used to know… from outside the walls. A friend. She’s dead.”

The words hung there for a moment. Ellie didn’t offer more, and Dina didn’t push.

Instead, she reached across the table and gently placed her hand over Ellie’s, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, and she meant it. “That’s rough, El.”

Ellie swallowed hard and gave a slight nod, the touch grounding her more than she expected.

Dina rubbed her thumb lightly over Ellie’s knuckles, letting the silence stretch for a beat before she spoke again.

“How’d you know her?” she asked gently, not prying, just curious.

Ellie looked away for a moment, her eyes finding the flickering candle on the table as if it might help her form the words. “She was friends with my mom,” she said eventually, voice low. “Back before everything went to shit.”

Dina blinked. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting.

“Were they close?”

Ellie shrugged, her jaw tightening slightly. “I think so. Marlene never really… talked about her much. Even when I asked. Just said they knew each other. That she made a promise to her.”

There was something distant in Ellie’s tone, a quiet ache wrapped in years of unanswered questions. She didn’t say how many times she’d tried to pry the truth out of Marlene, or how much she used to wonder why no one ever wanted to talk about her mom. That part stayed tucked away.

Dina nodded, her expression softening. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Ellie offered a small, crooked smile, more bitter than amused. “Kinda does.”

Dina glanced down at their intertwined hands, thumb brushing lightly over Ellie’s knuckles again. “How’d you find out?”

Ellie hesitated for a second, then asked, “Did you hear about that group that came in this morning?”

Dina nodded. “Yeah. Couple of kids, older woman. Everyone’s been talking.”

Ellie leaned back in the booth, eyes flicking to the window as if she could still see the newcomers. “The mom—Leah—she was wearing a pendant. Firefly insignia. I asked her a few things, got some answers.”

Dina’s expression dimmed with understanding. “And that’s how you found out?”

Ellie nodded.

Dina let out a quiet sigh, squeezing Ellie’s hand again. “I really am sorry, El. That’s a heavy thing to find out like that.”

Ellie’s gaze softened. She looked down at their joined hands and offered a quiet, “Thanks.”

They sat there for a moment, the quiet between them not uncomfortable—just full of unspoken things. But then, the sound of a familiar voice cut through the room like the scrape of a knife.

“Hey, baby.”

Cat’s voice rang out as she slid into the booth beside Ellie, her tone sweet but unmistakably pointed. Dina immediately pulled her hand back, her posture stiffening as her expression darkened.

Cat leaned in and pressed a kiss against Ellie’s cheek, completely ignoring Dina now glaring at her from across the table.

“Was wondering where you snuck off to,” Cat said lightly, her gaze flicking between Ellie and Dina before settling coldly on the latter. “Everything okay?”

Ellie, caught in the sudden tension, blinked and nodded. “Yeah, just talking.”

Cat’s hand settled possessively on Ellie’s thigh under the table. “Talking, huh?” she said with a tight smile, eyes still on Dina. “Anything interesting?”

Dina raised a brow. “Just catching up.”

The words were simple, but her tone had an edge to it—one Ellie couldn’t quite ignore. She looked between the two of them, feeling the shift in the air like a storm brewing.

Ellie still didn’t understand why the two women seemed to dislike each other, but one thing was clear—there was no love lost between them. Dina’s gaze had never left Cat, sharp and wary, and Cat’s had a certain coolness to it. The tension was palpable, and Ellie could feel herself becoming a little more than uncomfortable. She wasn’t about to let things escalate between them—not right here, not in front of everyone.

She glanced down at her plate, pushing it towards Cat. “You can have it,” Ellie said, her voice light, trying to ease the air between them. “I didn’t really eat.” Her stomach was still a heavy knot, mostly from the weight of everything that had happened today, and the last thing she needed was more food.

Cat didn’t need any encouragement; her eyes lit up as she leaned over the plate, grabbing a piece of chicken with a small grin. Ellie smiled, a bit too tired for anything more than that, before leaning over to plant a quick kiss on Cat’s cheek, the soft press lingering for a moment before she pulled back.

“I’m gonna go talk to Joel,” Ellie said, her voice more casual than she felt. She didn’t want to explain why—didn’t want to sit there in the middle of whatever this was—but she needed space. Needed to breathe. “I’ll talk to you both later.”

Without waiting for a response, Ellie slid out of the booth with a fluid motion, rising to her feet and immediately walking out of the restaurant. As soon as she stepped outside, the cool air hit her face, and she exhaled sharply, grateful for the fresh breath.

The noise of the restaurant—the clink of dishes, quiet chatter, the energy that was always present—seemed miles away as she walked briskly, her boots crunching on the gravel underfoot. She didn’t look back.

She needed to talk to Joel. She needed to think through everything she had learned today—the fireflies, Marlene, Leah... and the weight of the information she'd uncovered. It felt like too much, and she didn’t want to go back inside and have to confront all the emotions roiling in her chest.

Ellie kept her eyes ahead, focused on putting one foot in front of the other, leaving the tension and unresolved glances behind her.

---

The soft strum of guitar strings drifted through the warm, wood-paneled house, the kind of melody that settled low in the chest—gentle, thoughtful, familiar. Ellie stepped inside, letting the door shut behind her with a soft click. The smell of old books, pine, and coffee still lingered, like it always did in Joel’s place. It was comforting.

By the entrance, her eyes caught on a framed photo sitting atop the side table. She paused, her fingers brushing against the edge of the frame. It was one of the first pictures they'd taken after arriving in Jackson—her, Joel, Tommy, and Maria all standing together, arms slung over shoulders, smiling despite the exhaustion still clinging to their faces. They all looked younger somehow, even though it hadn’t been that long ago. Ellie smiled faintly, her throat tightening around the memory.

She followed the sound of the guitar into the living room, the notes becoming clearer as she turned the corner. Joel was exactly where she expected him to be—settled into his worn leather recliner, head slightly bowed over his guitar as his fingers moved with practiced ease across the strings. The sunlight from the nearby window cast a golden halo over him, dust motes floating in the still air.

When he looked up and saw her, a slow smile stretched across his weathered face. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, his voice warm and steady in that way only Joel’s could be. “How’s your day been?”

Ellie gave a small shrug, stepping further inside and collapsing onto the couch across from him. “It was fine.”

Joel raised a brow, his hands still gently plucking at the strings. “Just fine?”

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a small smile in return. “How was yours?”

He leaned back a little, the guitar settling in his lap. “Alright. Helped a couple of the guys with insulating that new place off Third Street. Damn thing’s colder than hell on the inside. Took us all morning just to patch the back wall.” He chuckled softly to himself. “Tommy managed to staple his own glove to the frame.”

Ellie let out a small snort, relaxing more into the couch. The normalcy of Joel’s voice, the way he spoke about the town like it was just… life—it settled something inside her that had been wound tight all day.

But the thoughts she carried—about Leah, the Fireflies, Marlene—they weren’t gone. They just sat quieter in Joel’s presence, waiting.

Joel continued to strum idly, watching Ellie with that familiar, quiet attentiveness of his. He could always tell when something was off, even when she tried to play it cool.

“You sure everything’s alright, kiddo?” he asked after a moment, his voice casual but laced with that particular Joel concern.

Ellie shrugged again, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Had a weird morning, that’s all.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Weird how?”

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the seam of the couch cushion as if debating how much to say. “Some new people came into town. Maria and I were on wall duty when they showed up.”

He nodded slowly, waiting.

“There was this woman—Leah.” Ellie paused. “She had a Firefly pendant.”

The sound of the guitar stopped. Joel’s hands went still.

Ellie looked up, meeting his gaze. “I asked her about it. She said she used to be one, stationed in Utah… not St. Mary’s, though. She said after Marlene died, the Fireflies fell apart. Took her family and bailed.”

Joel’s face didn’t change much, but she could see the flicker in his eyes—the way his shoulders seemed to tense slightly, jaw working just once before he spoke.

“She say how Marlene died?”

Ellie shook her head. “No. Said she didn’t ask. Just ran.”

Joel gave a slow nod, his fingers tapping lightly on the guitar’s body now. “Probably smart.”

Ellie studied him. “You knew she was dead.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just leaned forward, setting the guitar aside gently. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “I figured she would be. Sooner or later.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed, her posture shifting subtly as she leaned forward on her knees. “Was she fine when you left?” she asked, her voice quiet—but sharp with suspicion.

Joel’s jaw tensed, just for a second. A flicker of something crossed his face—guilt, maybe, or pain—but it vanished almost as fast. He gave a slow nod. “Yeah. She was fine.”

Ellie didn’t look convinced. She watched him carefully, her voice lowering. “When did you see her last?”

Joel let out a breath through his nose and sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his mouth like he was trying to stall for time.

“After you…” he started, then hesitated. “After you almost drowned. I was tryin’ to pull you out when a Firefly patrol jumped us. One of ’em hit me. Hard. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed.

Ellie’s stomach twisted. She remembered flashes—being in the water, Joel’s hands, then nothing. Just dark.

“What did Marlene say?”

Joel shifted again, not meeting her eyes. “She told me she didn’t expect me to make it all the way there. Said she was surprised I brought you in alive. That most people wouldn’t have made it.”

Ellie’s fingers curled around the edge of the couch cushion. “And?”

Joel looked at her now, his expression unreadable. “She said they were runnin’ some tests. That I could stay while they figured out what came next.”

Ellie frowned, her thoughts racing. “What kind of tests?”

Joel’s eyes flicked down to the floor. “Didn’t say. Just that they needed to confirm things. See how your immunity worked.”

Ellie sat back slowly, processing. “And she was fine when you left?”

Joel’s silence stretched just a beat too long. Then, again, softly: “Yeah.”

Ellie huffed, her breath sharp as she pushed herself up from the couch. Her boots thudded softly against the rug as she began to pace, her hands flexing at her sides.

“Why didn’t you wait?” she asked, turning to face him. “If she was fine… why didn’t you wait for me to wake up? For answers?”

Joel watched her carefully, his shoulders stiff. “Because there was nothin’ to wait for,” he said flatly. “They said we were free to go. So we went.”

Ellie stared at him like he’d just spoken a different language. “No. No, that’s not how Marlene worked. She wouldn’t have let me leave without saying goodbye—especially not after dragging me halfway across the country.”

Joel stood now too, slower, the leather of the recliner groaning behind him. His eyes met hers, unreadable but unwavering.

“Well,” he said, “she did.”

The words hit like a slap, final and cold. Joel didn’t raise his voice, didn’t flinch—but there was a hard edge in his tone. Like he’d rehearsed this moment in his head a hundred times and still didn’t have a version that felt right.

They had circled this argument like vultures around a carcass, each pass picking at the same bones. What felt like the hundredth time still brought no clarity, no closure—just that same ache Ellie couldn’t shake. That same wall Joel refused to let down.

She shook her head, frustrated. “You keep saying the same thing, but none of it adds up, Joel. You tell me she let me go. Just like that? No goodbye? No explanation?”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “That’s what happened.”

“No, that’s what you say happened,” Ellie shot back, voice rising. “And every time I ask, I get the same damn answer. Like you’re reading from a script.”

Joel stood up, slow but deliberate, the space between them growing smaller, tenser. “Because there’s nothin’ else to tell.”

Ellie laughed—humorless and bitter. “Bullshit. You’re hiding something. You’ve always been hiding something.”

Joel’s shoulders tensed as Ellie’s words hit, but his voice stayed firm, flat. “I ain’t hiding anything, Ellie. They ran their tests. Then they said you could go. So we left.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes, stepping closer like she could see the lie in his face if she just got near enough. “Why didn’t you just leave me there, then? Your job was done, right? You got me across the country. You dropped me off. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?”

Joel didn’t answer. His expression didn’t change—but he didn’t look at her either. He just stood there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on some point on the floor between them.

The silence was louder than shouting.

Ellie scoffed, disgusted. “This is bullshit.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the house, the screen door rattling in her wake. Her boots hit the wooden steps hard, then the gravel path that led toward the back lot where her small converted garage stood. Behind her, Joel didn’t call out. Didn’t follow.

The cool air hit her face, but it didn’t help.

The moment she reached the metal door to her space, she yanked it open with more force than necessary, the hinges groaning in protest. She stepped inside and slammed it shut behind her, the sound ringing out like a gunshot in the quiet.

“Fuck this,” Ellie muttered under her breath, the frustration boiling over. She stomped over to the small workbench in the corner of the garage, where an old, weathered map lay folded up. She grabbed it with urgency, the creases in the paper sharp beneath her fingertips. Her mind raced, the need to understand, to get answers gnawing at her more than ever. If Joel wouldn’t give her the truth, then she’d have to figure it out herself.

---

Ellie’s footsteps echoed softly down the abandoned corridors of St. Mary’s Hospital, the dim beam of her flashlight cutting through the darkness. The air was stale and thick, the walls lined with old, peeling paint that hadn’t seen a coat of fresh color in years. Dust hung in the air like a fog, settled in the corners and creases of forgotten rooms. The place felt dead, silent, like it hadn’t known life in decades.

Her sneakers squeaked faintly against the grimy floor as she walked, the only sound besides the faint hum of her flashlight. She had left a note for Joel. She didn’t say much, just enough to explain that she was going to find answers. It had taken her a couple of days to reach the hospital, navigating through long stretches of wilderness and abandoned towns. She didn’t care how long it took. She was here now, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found out everything that had been kept from her.

She passed by several rooms, peering inside but finding nothing of value. Old filing cabinets stood like tombstones in the hallway, their drawers half open, papers spilling out haphazardly. The remnants of a world that no longer existed were scattered about— outdated medical equipment, broken furniture, and boxes piled with yellowed files.

Finally, she stumbled into an office tucked in the far corner of the hospital. The door creaked as it opened, revealing an unkempt space with overturned chairs and desks littered with papers. She carefully stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room for anything that might give her the answers she was looking for. Her flashlight swept across the desk, where an old picture   sat, the image faded but   the photo still intact. She picked it up, staring at the image— a snapshot of her bite wound, the infected skin dark and swollen, clearly visible on the x- ray. Next to it were scans of her brain, vibrant colors marking the different regions. Her brow furrowed as she studied it, the technicalities of the images almost making her head spin. But nothing on them made sense— not the connection between the infection and her immunity, not the doctors' notes scribbled hastily at the bottom.

She leaned closer, searching through the papers scattered on the desk, her fingers brushing over empty charts and partially filled medical forms. But the more she looked, the less she found. No explanations, no conclusions. Just more cryptic references to tests and results she couldn’t decipher.

Frustrated, Ellie pushed the papers aside and glanced around the office again, hoping something— anything— might stand out. But there was nothing. No new leads. No answers. The walls seemed to close in, the silence swallowing her up as the realization hit her hard: the truth wasn’t going to be handed to her easily. She had to keep digging.

Ellie moved down the narrow, dimly lit hallway, her footsteps softer now, her senses on high alert. The air in the hospital grew heavier, more oppressive, as if the place itself was holding its breath. She passed more rooms, all eerily quiet, the walls cracked and worn from years of neglect. She barely glanced inside; her mind was focused on what lay ahead.

At the end of the hallway, a door loomed. It was a heavy, steel door, slightly ajar as though it had been pushed open in a hurry. Ellie’s pulse quickened. This room felt different— more significant. She reached for the handle, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the smell hit her— a mix of antiseptic and something older, something more metallic. The room was vast and cold, the ceiling high, with overhead lights flickering weakly. Ellie’s flashlight bounced off the sterile surfaces, illuminating the space. It was a surgery room. The kind of place where lives were saved— or ended. A central surgical table stood in the middle of the room, its surface cold and uninviting, covered in dust and remnants of bloodstains. The floor around it was marked with faded, dark splashes, the once- vibrant red now just a distant memory of violence.

The cabinets along the walls were open, some left ajar, revealing empty shelves and forgotten medical tools, while others had their contents scattered across the floor— gauze, surgical gloves, needles, and vials. But what caught Ellie’s attention more than anything was a set of duffle bags piled in the corner by the wall, seemingly out of place in such a sterile environment.

Ellie’s eyes flicked between the bags and the bloodstain on the floor. Her heart rate picked up as her mind spun with possibilities. She moved towards the bags, kneeling beside them to unzip one. It was filled with personal belongings— clothes, water bottles, and even a few non- medical supplies— but nothing that explained the blood in the room or the urgency that had been present.

She opened another bag, her fingers trembling as she sifted through it. Her breath caught when her hand brushed against something hard. A tape recorder. She pulled it out cautiously, staring at it as if it might bite. It was old, worn, but still functional. Her pulse raced. This was it. This could be the key to the answers she needed.

Ellie wiped the dust off the recorder, pressing the play button with a sense of anticipation. The sound of a crackling static came through the speaker, followed by a muffled voice.

---

Ellie sat on the edge of an old, rusted crate, her legs dangling over the side. The cold air nipped at her exposed skin, but it did little to distract her from the words echoing in her head. The hospital was silent behind her, its shattered windows reflecting the dimming sky. She hadn’t really noticed the fading daylight; her mind was too preoccupied with the tape recorder in her hands, the only thing tethering her to any semblance of answers.

She hit the rewind button again, listening to the same words, over and over, each time feeling the weight of them sink deeper into her chest.

“ Most people have left already. I don’t know which group I’m going to join… I was one of the ones that wanted to go after the smuggler and the girl. They said… Even if we found her, or by some miracle found someone else that’s immune, it’d make no difference. ‘ Cause the only person who could develop a vaccine is dead.”

Ellie stared blankly at the tape recorder, the words a dull throb in her mind. She clicked the rewind button again, watching the tape roll back as if doing so would somehow make it clearer, make it hurt less.

“… by some miracle found someone else that’s immune, it’d make no difference.”

Her finger hovered over the button, and she pressed it again, almost absentmindedly, the tape clicking and whirring in her hands.

“… miracle found someone else that’s immune, it’d make no difference. ‘ Cause the only person…”

Ellie clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing as the realization hit her again with the same brutal force. She could barely breathe through the weight of it. The only person who could have developed a vaccine… was gone.

The wind stirred, carrying the faint sound of a distant bird, but Ellie couldn’t focus on anything other than the words looping in her mind. The tape recorder felt heavier now, like it was made of lead, but she couldn’t stop. She kept playing it. Again. And again. And again.

Ellie’s fingers gripped the tape recorder tighter, the plastic casing digging into her palms as if it could somehow anchor her to reality. Her thoughts spun in dizzying circles, each repetition of the same sentence breaking off into another jagged shard of emotion. Her immunity could have meant something. Her life could have meant something. The years of death, the blood, the loss… it could have all led to something. But instead, it was taken away. Stripped of meaning. Stripped of purpose.

The sharp whistle of the wind seemed miles away, muffled under the pressure of her thoughts. She was teetering on the edge, the weight of the world pressing down on her chest, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t make it stop. The tape clicked, and the words played again—“…it’d make no difference. ‘Cause the only person…” Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out. But it was always there, circling her like a vulture.

The sound of galloping hooves shattered the moment, pulling Ellie out of her spiral. She looked up sharply, squinting through the dimming light. The figure on the horse was unmistakable. Joel.

Before she could react, he was off the horse, quickly striding over to her. He was frantic— his face twisted in a mixture of anger and relief, but more than anything, there was concern. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

Ellie froze, stiff as a board. She didn’t hug him back, didn’t respond to his warmth. She felt numb to it all.

“ What the hell were you thinkin’?” Joel’s voice was low but thick with frustration. “ Running off in the middle of the night like that. You talk to me. You don’t just leave me a goddamn note—”

She shoved him away, not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to make him take a step back. His eyes flickered with something hurt, but it was quickly masked by a quiet concern.

“ Tell me,” Ellie said, her voice raw and unsteady, but firm. She pointed toward the hospital. “ What happened here?”

Joel opened his mouth to speak, but Ellie cut him off, her voice sharp now, the words spilling out in a rush. “ If you lie to me one more time, I’m gone. You will never see me again. But if you tell me the truth...” Her throat tightened, but she pushed through it. “ I’ll go back to Jackson. No matter what it is. Just say it, Joel.”

Her eyes locked onto his, desperate for something real, something that made sense. The silence between them stretched long, the tension thick enough to cut through. Ellie held her breath, willing him to speak, to give her the truth.

Joel lowered his head, the weight of his words pulling him deeper into the moment, his voice barely audible, trembling with the burden of the truth he had kept hidden for so long. " Making a vaccine... would have killed you." He paused, his gaze falling to the ground for a brief moment before it snapped back up to meet her eyes. “ So I stopped them.”

Ellie felt the world tilt beneath her, a cold, sickening realization crashing over her. Her chest tightened, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she took a step back, clutching at her chest as if the weight of his confession could physically tear her apart. “ Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The tears came, hot and fast, as she pressed her hands to her face, trying to shield herself from the flood of emotion that overwhelmed her. Her immunity— her entire existence, the one thing that had kept her going in a world where everything else had fallen apart— had meant something. She could have helped save people. She could have made a difference.

But that was before Joel had taken it all away.

Ellie’s heart ached with the crushing weight of it. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what Joel had done in that hospital, the bodies he’d left behind, the lives he’d destroyed just so that she could remain by his side. The thought sickened her. Her hands shook as she tried to wipe away the tears, but they kept coming, each one a reminder of the lost potential, the years wasted.

Joel reached out, his arms trembling, desperate to hold her, to make things right. But Ellie couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think with him so close, so she pushed him away, the words coming out like a scream, raw and full of pain. “ Don’t you fucking touch me!”

Her voice shook with the force of everything she was feeling— betrayal, heartbreak, anger— but most of all, a hollow emptiness. She looked at him, her expression hardening, her heart breaking all over again. " I’ll go back. But we’re done."

Without another word, Ellie turned, moving quickly to Shimmer, the horse’s soft snort breaking the silence. She hopped into the saddle, feeling a rush of adrenaline push the tears back for the moment. She urged the horse forward, her body tense, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and fury. The thundering hooves echoed in the night, carrying her away from the pain, away from the lies.

Chapter 7: Take On Me

Ellie’s boots dug into the dirt, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her knuckles throbbed, split and raw, but she didn’t back down. Across from her stood the man—broad, towering, his chest heaving with exertion. Blood trailed from his nose, mixing with sweat along his scruffy jaw. He was older, stronger, heavier, but she was quicker. Meaner.

He came at her again, heavy fists swinging. Ellie ducked the first punch, barely sidestepping the second. His third strike clipped her shoulder, spinning her off balance, but she recovered fast—twisting low and driving a fist into his ribs. He grunted, stumbling back a step, and Ellie pressed the advantage. She landed another shot to his stomach, then swung up for his jaw, but he caught her wrist mid-air and twisted.

Ellie cried out, pain shooting through her arm as he shoved her back. She rolled with it, falling to the ground and using the momentum to sweep his legs. The man dropped hard, dust exploding around them. She scrambled on top of him, fists flying—one, two, three—before he roared and shoved her off.

They both staggered to their feet, bloodied and breathing hard. The man charged again. Ellie sidestepped, kicked him in the back of the knee, then elbowed him in the spine as he dropped. He turned and caught her off guard with a wild punch to her jaw—her ears rang as she hit the ground.

She tasted blood. She saw stars. But she got back up.

Her eyes locked onto his. No fear. Just fury

Ellie narrowed her eyes, her pulse thundering in her ears. No hesitation, no warning—just rage. She surged forward with a guttural yell, slamming her fist into the man’s face with a sickening crack. He hit the ground hard, sprawling on his back with a stunned grunt.

Without giving him a second to recover, Ellie straddled his chest and rained down blows—one after another, fury pouring from every punch. Blood sprayed from his nose as he twisted, arms trying to shield his face.

“I yield! I yield!” he finally bellowed, voice muffled beneath his forearms.

Ellie’s fists hovered in the air for a beat longer, chest heaving, before she slowly backed off, stumbling to her feet. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing a line of blood across her cheek. Her lips curled into a crooked, victorious grin.

“Should’ve let me punch you in the face if you didn’t want your nose broken,” she muttered, breathing heavy.

The man groaned, clutching his face as he sat up, blood trickling through his fingers. “Jesus... you’re a damn psychopath.”

Ellie just snorted and offered him a hand. He eyed it warily, but took it anyway, hauling himself up with another grunt.

A voice cut through the haze of their panting.

“That’s enough training for today,” Jesse called, stepping in between them with a deep sigh. His brows were raised, arms crossed like a disapproving older brother. “Any more and one of you’s gonna leave in a body bag.”

Ellie looked over at him, blood streaked across her knuckles, her lip split—but that same fire still smoldered in her eyes.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Probably him.”

The older man grunted as he stood upright, pinching his broken nose with a wince. “You’re a fucking psychopath,” he muttered again, shaking his head.

Jesse shot him a sharp look. “I said enough,” he snapped, stepping protectively between him and Ellie.

Then he turned, his voice lowering, and placed a steadying hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

Ellie didn’t argue. The adrenaline was still in her veins, but her fists were trembling now—not from fear, but from the aftershock of all that rage. Jesse led her to the other side of the training yard, away from the others. He crouched beside a small supply crate, grabbing a water bottle and a rag. After wetting it, he handed both to Ellie, who took them without a word.

She sat down on the edge of the wooden platform, pressing the cool fabric to her jaw, wincing as it touched her split lip. Blood smeared across her cheek and temple, already drying in dark flakes.

Jesse stood in front of her, arms crossed. “What’s going on with you?”

Ellie glanced up at him, her tone guarded. “What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been different. Off. For weeks now. And you’re gonna end up breaking half of Jackson’s patrols if you keep training like this.”

Ellie looked away, dabbing at her lip. “I’m just training.”

“Ellie, you broke Chuck’s arm the other day.”

“He should’ve tapped out,” she said flatly.

Jesse gave her a long look, somewhere between disbelief and concern. “This isn’t just about training. You’re pushing too hard. What’s going on?”

Ellie stayed quiet, dragging the rag across her cheek again, more to busy her hands than actually clean the blood off. The silence stretched too long, heavy with things unsaid.

Jesse crouched in front of her, trying to meet her eyes. “Come on,” he said, gentler this time. “We’ve known each other for how long now? You’re my best friend. Maybe I can help.”

Ellie’s brow furrowed, and she finally glanced at him. “You think we’re best friends?”

Jesse pulled back slightly, blinking. “Uh… yeah? Obviously. Who else would be?”

Ellie looked away again, muttering, “Dina’s my best friend.”

Jesse’s expression twisted into mock offense. “Wow. Okay. First of all—rude. Second—people can have more than one best friend. That’s a thing.”

Ellie gave a soft snort, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Didn’t realize we were labeling shit now.”

“Well, someone’s gotta keep track,” Jesse said, folding his arms. “Especially when that someone is getting into fistfights with grown-ass men just for warm-ups.”

A beat of silence passed. Then Ellie finally looked up at him again, a flicker of something softer in her expression.

“...Thanks, Jesse.”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing dirt from his jeans as he stood. “Even if I’m apparently second-tier.”

“You’re third at best,” Ellie said, lips twitching with the barest hint of a grin.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I like you, Williams.” He offered her a hand and she took it, letting him help her to her feet. “Now let’s get you patched up before someone else tries to call you a psychopath.”

The streets of Jackson were alive with movement as Ellie and Jesse made their way through, the sound of distant hammers, chatter, and livestock folding together into the low, familiar hum of settlement life. Jesse greeted almost everyone they passed— a tip of the head here, a casual joke there, even a full conversation with one of the guards posted along the main square.

Ellie said nothing. Her head was low, the rag still pressed lightly against her cheek as she kept pace beside him. The raw sting of her split lip throbbed with every step, but she didn’t complain. Her silence was its own kind of armor. Let Jesse be the friendly one. He always had been. She was certain— more and more each day— that when Tommy and Maria stepped down, Jesse would be the one taking over. The town already gravitated toward him like gravity.

Eventually, he led her toward the clinic. Volunteers buzzed around the place— sorting supplies, speaking in hushed voices, checking inventory— but Jesse barely glanced at them as he pushed through and guided her into one of the small back rooms. The cot inside was clean, the walls lined with shelves of antiseptics, wraps, and gauze. He motioned to the bed.

“Sit. I’ll go grab someone,” he said. “Don’t move too much or you’ll bleed all over their sheets.”

She rolled her eyes but obeyed, watching as he ducked out with that same quiet confidence he carried everywhere. Once the door closed behind him, the stillness was almost jarring.

Ellie looked down at her hands.

Her knuckles were red, some skin split open and crusted over, the beginning of bruises forming like ink stains beneath the surface. She flexed them and winced. They hurt—but it was a pain she could make sense of. She wanted this kind of pain. Something physical. Something she could control.

Jesse had been right.

She was pushing too hard. But it was the only way she knew how to manage what was coiled inside her chest like barbed wire—rage, confusion, hurt so deep it scraped bone. She didn’t have answers. Just fury. And fists.

Joel had caught up with her not long after she returned from Salt Lake. Tried to explain himself again, tried to justify. But Ellie had held true to her word.

She was done.

Done listening to lies.

Done pretending what he did hadn’t broken something between them.

She didn’t care what Joel had to say anymore.

Not when everything inside her still burned.

Not when the only thing that made sense was the sharp impact of her knuckles meeting flesh.

“Look who I found,” Jesse’s voice rang out from the doorway, light and teasing— but Ellie could hear the note of relief under it. Like he was grateful to be handing her off to someone who might actually get through to her.

Ellie looked up, just as Dina stepped into the room.

Her hair was pulled back in the loose ponytail she always wore, a few strands stuck to her forehead with sweat. She had that purposeful walk— half medic, half scolding best friend— and the moment her eyes landed on Ellie, her expression changed.

“Jesus Christ,” Dina muttered, striding over. She crouched in front of Ellie without waiting for permission, already peeling the blood- soaked rag from her hand. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Ellie scoffed, lips twitching into a faint smirk. “You should see the other guy.”

Dina gave her a flat look but didn’t respond, turning Ellie’s chin gently to examine the swelling around her jaw and the split along her cheekbone. Her hands were careful, practiced— but there was something else behind her touch too. A quiet worry that Ellie felt but didn’t know how to name.

Behind them, Jesse hovered awkwardly in the doorway. Dina didn’t even glance back when she said, “ Give us a minute?”

He paused for half a beat, then nodded. “Yeah. Alright. Try not to kill each other.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and the room seemed to settle.

Ellie broke the silence first, her voice dry. “You hate clinic duty. What the hell are you doing here?”

Dina didn’t look up from the tray as she tore open a sterile wipe. “I owed Tasha for covering my wall shift last week. So   I am helping out today.” She finally met Ellie’s eyes, her expression pointed. “Didn’t think I’d be patching up you, though.”

Ellie gave a small shrug, the faintest lift of one shoulder. “Guess you got lucky.”

Dina huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes as she dabbed at the cut near Ellie’s eyebrow. “So, who was the unlucky bastard this time?”

“Lucas,” Ellie muttered, a hint of smugness threading through her tone.

That made Dina snort. “Seriously? That explains why he was in the other room whining like a kicked dog. Nursing a black eye and what’s probably a broken nose.”

Ellie grinned, a flash of pride tugging at her lips. “Told you he looked worse.”

She winced sharply as Dina pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth to the gash along her cheek. “Shit, Dina—warn me next time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dina said sweetly. “Did the girl who just flattened a guy twice her size want me to be gentle?”

Ellie gave her a side- eye glare, but the smirk was still lingering on her face— bloodied, bruised, but undeniably pleased with herself. Dina shook her head, more fond than frustrated, and returned to cleaning the wound with careful precision.

Dina’s touch softened the longer she worked, her fingers steady and deliberate as she cupped Ellie’s chin and tilted her face this way and that, inspecting each scrape and bruise with a focus that was more tender than clinical.

“You’ve really been throwing yourself into this,” she murmured, almost to herself, before dipping the cloth into a fresh splash of alcohol and wiping along Ellie’s cheekbone with extra care. “Hold still.”

Ellie obliged, her jaw tight beneath Dina’s grip, though her eyes stayed on the other girl— watching her more than she wanted to admit.

Once Dina seemed satisfied with her face, she shifted to Ellie’s hands, lifting them gently, turning them palm- up. The knuckles were red, raw, and slightly swollen.

Dina clicked her tongue softly. “ You’ve gotta be careful with these.” She began to clean the blood from Ellie’s fingers, her voice dropping into something almost playful. “How else are you gonna play for me?”

Ellie smirked, flexing her fingers with a hiss of discomfort. “I can still play,” she muttered. “They’ll just be sore.”

Dina arched a brow, giving her a look that said sure you will, before pressing the alcohol-soaked wipe to the worst of the abrasions.

“Shit—“ Ellie flinched, yanking her hand slightly before gritting her teeth.

Dina laughed under her breath, not unkindly. “You try to act all tough, but you’re a total baby.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “It stings.”

“I know,” Dina said, her tone softening again, a thumb brushing lightly over the back of Ellie’s hand now that it was clean. “But you’ll live.”

Dina shifted to Ellie’s other hand, the cloth already dampened, and began gently wiping at the raw skin along her knuckles. Her brow was slightly furrowed now, the warmth in her earlier teasing replaced by something quieter. More thoughtful.

“Ellie,” she said after a moment, her voice softer, “ are you okay?”

Ellie gave a half- hearted shrug, her lips twitching with a tired smirk. “Besides the bruised face?”

“Yes,” Dina said, glancing up at her. “Besides the bruised face. How are you really feeling?”

Ellie hesitated, her gaze falling to the floor for just a moment before landing back on her hands. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dina finished wiping the last of the blood from her fingers but didn’t let go of her hand. She held it there between them, her thumb absently grazing the edge of Ellie’s palm. “Because you’ve been different. For weeks. You barely talk. You spend every free minute in training, beating the shit out of guys twice your size, like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart.”

Ellie swallowed but said nothing.

Dina continued gently. “I know you, Ellie. There’s something... lingering. Underneath everything. And I see it.”

Silence stretched between them. Dina’s eyes searched hers.

“What happened with Joel?”

The room grew still.

The air between them seemed to hum with the weight of things unspoken, the quiet loud in its own right. Ellie stared at Dina, her chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths, like she was trying to keep something from boiling over.

Dina’s eyes didn’t waver. She didn’t push, didn’t prompt again. She just looked at her, waiting—open, patient, the way only Dina could be.

Ellie’s jaw worked, her tongue running along the inside of her cheek. There was a part of her—loud and desperate—that wanted to scream. To spit it all out. She wanted to tell Dina everything: the lie Joel had carried like a secret rot, how he’d stolen her choice, her purpose. How she’d gone back to that goddamn hospital and found the truth buried in bloodstains and old tape recordings.

How she couldn’t stop feeling this… rage. This aching, molten anger that throbbed just beneath her skin. How it never went away, not even when she slept. Not even when she fought until her hands were raw and bruised.

She opened her mouth. The words lined up behind her teeth, ready to spill.

But nothing came out.

Her throat closed up like it was trying to protect her from herself.

“Nothing,” she said at last, her voice low and hollow.

Dina blinked. Not in surprise—but in recognition. Like she knew Ellie was lying. Like she knew that “nothing” meant everything.

But still, she didn’t press.

Instead, she gave Ellie’s hand a squeeze, grounding her again with just that small touch. “Okay,” she said softly. “Then nothing.”

Ellie’s voice was rough when it finally broke the quiet. “Thank you.”

Dina met her gaze, soft and steady, her thumb brushing gently over Ellie’s knuckles. “If you ever do want to talk about it,” she said, “I’m here. You know that, right?”

Ellie gave a small nod, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Yeah. I know.”

There was a beat—then Dina tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “How about you come over tonight? We’ll pick the dumbest movies we can find, eat too much popcorn, and pretend we’re not both emotionally stunted.”

Ellie huffed a quiet laugh, genuine and fleeting. “That actually sounds pretty nice.”

Dina’s smile deepened, warm and full of something that Ellie couldn’t quite name. She ran her fingers once more along the back of Ellie’s hand, a silent reassurance. Then, a knock broke the moment.

Both of them looked toward the door just as it creaked open and Jesse peeked his head in, his ever-present, crooked grin in place. “She gonna live?”

Dina rolled her eyes, already rising to her feet. “Barely,” she muttered, her tone dry as she moved to clean up the supplies. “She’s lucky I like her.”

Jesse stepped inside with a low chuckle. “That’s a miracle all on its own.”

Ellie just sat there, her face still sore, her hands still aching—but lighter somehow. The storm inside her had quieted, even if just for a moment.

She then glanced between Jesse and Dina, the corner of her mouth tugging into something almost like a smile. “Hey,” she said, “you should come by tonight. We’re watching movies at Dina’s.”

Jesse’s face lit up immediately, always eager for anything that sounded like a break from patrols and chores. “Hell yeah, I’m down,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “As long as I get to pick at least one movie. No weird horror films this time.”

Ellie snorted, and was about to fire back a retort—but she didn’t catch the way Dina’s expression shifted. Just for a moment. Her smile didn’t disappear, but it lost some of its warmth, like a light dimming behind her eyes.

“Yeah,” Dina said, turning to snap the lid on the first aid kit a little more forcefully than necessary. “Should be fun.”

Jesse didn’t notice, too busy launching into a dramatic reenactment of the last terrible movie they’d watched together. Ellie chuckled under her breath, not realizing the invitation had landed like a weight in the middle of the room.

Not realizing that for Dina, sometimes three felt like a crowd.

---

The headboard slammed against the wall with a sharp thud, followed by another—then another—each one punctuated by a breathless moan from Cat. The bedsprings groaned beneath them, the rhythm erratic and raw, limbs tangled and sweat-slicked.

Ellie moved with urgency, fingers digging into Cat’s hips, her breath hot against her neck. Cat’s nails grazed down Ellie’s back, dragging a sound out of her that was half-growl, half-gasp.

Another sharp thud.

Then silence, save for the ragged breaths that filled the room.

Ellie let out a low groan as she collapsed beside her, the aftershocks pulsing through her limbs. The room felt too warm, heavy with heat and the scent of skin. She lay there for a moment, one arm flung across her face, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

Beside her, Cat chuckled lazily, voice husky and satisfied. “Gonna break the damn bed if we keep doing that.”

Ellie let out a breath, half a laugh. “You enjoy it.”

Cat hummed, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I do,” she murmured, shifting onto her side. She propped her head up with one hand, the other drifting across Ellie’s bare chest in lazy, idle strokes. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but…”

Her fingers paused, resting just above Ellie’s collarbone. “You’ve been… rougher. Lately. More than usual.”

Ellie’s brow pinched. She turned her head slightly to glance at her. “Did I hurt you?”

Cat let out a short, genuine laugh, her thumb brushing across Ellie’s skin. “No. You didn’t hurt me.” She leaned in, kissing the curve of Ellie’s shoulder softly. “But something’s off. You’ve been… somewhere else, even when you’re right here.”

Ellie didn’t respond at first, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, the warmth of Cat’s fingers on her skin feeling suddenly too intimate, too exposing.

“I’m fine,” she said after a pause, voice quiet. “Just… stressed. That’s all.”

Cat didn’t answer right away. She reached up, brushing her fingertips gently along the bruise blooming on Ellie’s cheekbone—a souvenir from her last fight.

“This,” Cat said softly, her voice almost tender now, “is more than just stress.”

Ellie didn’t flinch at the touch, but her jaw tightened. She didn’t meet Cat’s eyes. Something in her shifted—guarded again, like a door being quietly shut.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, voice low and even.

Cat exhaled, not in frustration but resignation. She’d learned not to press when Ellie shut down like this. The more she pushed, the harder Ellie pushed back.

“Alright,” she said quietly, brushing a lock of hair from Ellie’s forehead. She shifted, curling in beside her and resting her head against Ellie’s shoulder. Her hand draped across Ellie’s stomach, fingers splayed in a silent offering of closeness. “We can just stay in tonight. Put on a movie. Something dumb and loud.”

Ellie’s lips twitched, just barely. “Dina actually invited me over to her place. Said we could watch some films. You should come.”

Cat’s body went still for a beat. “Dina hates me.”

Ellie turned her head slightly. “No, she doesn’t.”

Cat snorted, lifting her chin to look at Ellie properly. “Yes, she does. It’s not like she tries to hide it.”

Ellie didn’t respond right away. She knew the truth—that Dina and Cat barely tolerated each other, always circling one another with thinly veiled suspicion. But she hoped, stubbornly, that maybe if they just spent more time around each other, they’d eventually find some common ground.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Ellie repeated, softer this time. “I think she just… needs time. Come with me. It’ll be fun.”

Cat gave her a long look, skeptical. “Did Dina invite me?”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“You said Dina invited you. Did she invite me too? Or just you?”

Ellie opened her mouth, hesitated, then shut it again. Her jaw flexed. “Just me,” she finally admitted, trying to shrug it off. “But Jesse will be there. So it’s not, like, some one-on-one thing.”

Cat’s response was immediate, quiet but firm. “I’m good.”

Ellie turned her head, eyes narrowing. “Come on, why not? It’ll be fun.”

Cat let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, for you maybe.”

Ellie sat up slightly on one elbow, the sheets rustling around her. “Why are you being so difficult?”

Cat shifted, propping herself up on her forearm to face Ellie directly. Her eyes, once soft and sleepy, now gleamed with something sharper. “I’m being difficult?” she repeated, incredulous. “Ellie, it’s always about Dina.”

Ellie blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is,” Cat said, her voice rising, not in anger, but in frustration that had clearly been simmering beneath the surface. “She invites you somewhere and you drop everything to go. She gives you one look and you change your plans. You talk about her like she’s—” She broke off, exhaling hard, as if biting back words that might cut too deep. “Even when you’re with me, she’s still there. In the room. In your head.”

Ellie’s brow furrowed, a flash of defensiveness stirring in her chest. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Cat challenged. “Be honest with me, El. When she looks at you, you light up. You don’t even notice it, but I do. Every time. And maybe she doesn’t hate me—but she sure as hell doesn’t want me around when you’re there.”

Ellie pushed back the covers and sat up fully, running a hand through her hair. “You’re making this a thing when it’s not.”

“No,” Cat said, sitting up too, her tone firmer now. “I’m pointing out the thing that’s already there. You just don’t want to look at it.”

The room felt smaller suddenly, like the walls had drawn closer. Ellie stared down at her hands, still faintly scabbed from training, her knuckles raw. “It’s not like that,” she murmured.

Cat huffed, running a hand through her messy curls. “You keep saying that like it makes it true.”

Ellie’s head snapped up. “So what, you want me to admit something that isn’t even real? You want me to say I’m in love with her or something?”

“I want you to stop lying to both of us,” Cat said, voice rising with each word. “You don’t have to say it for it to be real. It’s in the way you look at her, Ellie. It’s in the way you talk to her, the way your whole mood changes when she’s around. I’m not stupid.”

Ellie pushed herself up off the bed, pacing now, fists clenched. “This is insane. I’m with you. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Physically? Sure,” Cat said, her voice cracking. “But I’ve never felt like I had all of you. Not once.”

Ellie stopped pacing long enough to throw her arms up in frustration. “You’re being crazy, Cat.”

Cat flinched—not at the word, but at the casual dismissal in Ellie’s voice. She blinked slowly, her jaw setting firm. “Get out.”

Ellie turned, eyebrows raised like she hadn’t heard her right. “What?”

“You heard me.” Cat’s voice was calm now. Too calm. “Just… leave.”

Ellie scoffed, running a hand through her hair as she spun in place. “You can’t be serious right now.”

“I am,” Cat said flatly, arms crossed over her chest, her naked body pulled in like she was already shielding herself from the fallout. “Get your shit and go, Ellie.”

A bitter groan tore from Ellie’s throat as she bent down to yank on her jeans. “This is the last goddamn thing I need,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing her shirt off the floor and jamming her arms through it. “First Joel, now my girlfriend decides to see shit that’s not even there…”

Cat said nothing, watching her with unreadable eyes.

Ellie grabbed her boots, not bothering to sit as she shoved them on, then made her way to the door in jerky, angry movements. She stopped, hand on the handle, her back still to Cat. For a second, it looked like she might say something—anything—but the words never came.

With a grunt of frustration, Ellie flung the door open and stepped out, slamming it shut behind her. The echo rang out through the hallway like a gunshot.

She stormed down the corridor, jaw tight, fists clenched at her sides. The cool night air slapped her face as she stepped outside, but it didn’t cool the heat rising in her chest.

This was bullshit. All of it.

First Joel’s lies. Now Cat, pushing her away for something that didn’t exist. What the hell was everyone’s problem?

Ellie shoved her hands deep into her jacket pockets, walking fast through the streets of Jackson, not caring where her feet were taking her—just needing to move, to escape the weight building in her chest before it crushed her completely.

And still, deep down, buried under the noise of her anger… something flickered.

A silence she recognized.

The silence that always came after she lost something.

---

The fire crackled softly in front of her, casting flickering orange light across the lake’s rippling surface. Ellie sat hunched on a weather-worn log, her elbows resting on her knees, guitar balanced across her thighs. She plucked at the strings aimlessly—no melody, just a rhythm her fingers chased without direction. The cool night air curled around her, brushing the edges of her worn flannel, ruffling her hair. The lake, calm and dark under the moonlight, stretched out like an endless mirror, holding the reflection of the sky in its stillness.

She came here to breathe. To think. Or maybe not think at all.

The reinforced wall stood silent in the distance, a dark silhouette beyond the treeline. Jackson was safe—at least from what lurked outside. But inside her chest, Ellie felt like she was unraveling thread by thread.

The dull ache in her jaw from the earlier fight throbbed in time with the strumming. Her fingers, still raw and bruised, fumbled slightly on the frets, but she didn’t care. Music helped keep her hands busy. Kept her from spiraling.

Gravel crunched under footsteps behind her. Ellie stiffened, then turned.

Dina.

She walked down the path slowly, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, her eyes catching on the glow of the fire before settling on Ellie. Her ponytail swayed slightly as she moved, loose strands catching the light like strands of gold. Without a word, Dina lowered herself onto the log beside Ellie, her presence quiet but grounding.

“You forgot movie night,” she said gently.

Ellie winced. “Shit… I’m sorry.” She looked down at the guitar, her voice low and tired. “I just… needed to clear my head.”

Dina nodded, gaze flicking toward the flames. “Yeah. Figured it was something like that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but carried weight all the same. The fire popped, sending a small cascade of sparks into the air.

“I didn’t mean to ditch,” Ellie muttered after a while. “I just… couldn’t be around people. Not tonight.”

Dina didn’t respond right away. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees the way Ellie had moments before, eyes watching the dancing flames. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but steady. “You don’t always have to explain, you know. Not with me.”

Ellie’s throat tightened. She kept her eyes on the strings as her fingers moved again, slower this time, almost shy.

“I know.”

Dina smiled faintly at that, but there was something in her eyes—concern, maybe, or something deeper.

For a while, only the sounds of the night filled the space between them: the lazy lap of water against the shore, the whisper of wind through pine, the occasional crackle of wood shifting in the fire.

Then Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, like the words were smoke she’d been holding in. “I think Cat broke up with me.”

Dina blinked. “Really?” Her tone was soft, casual. But Ellie caught the shift—barely there, buried in the edges. Surprise, yes. But something else too. Something closer to pleased.

Ellie huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I mean… I think so…”

Dina didn’t say anything at first. Just nodded once, slowly. Her brows furrowed in quiet thought.

Ellie looked at her sideways. “Why are omegas so confusing?”

That earned a snort from Dina, who leaned over and bumped Ellie’s shoulder with her own. “Maybe alphas are just stupid.”

Ellie cracked a faint smile, eyes dropping to her guitar again. “That’s fair.”

For a moment, the fire popped loud enough to make Ellie blink. She felt warm—too warm, maybe—from the flames or the company or the weight of unspoken things finally stirring loose.

Dina reached down and picked up a stray twig, turning it over between her fingers. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked gently, glancing at Ellie through her lashes.

Ellie paused, her fingers stopping on the strings. Cat’s voice still echoed in her head—accusations, cracks, truths that maybe weren’t so far off the mark.

She stared into the fire, jaw tensing, then relaxed again. “It’s nothing,” she said at last, voice quieter now. “Just… something stupid.”

Dina didn’t speak right away. She let the fire crackle and settle, her gaze fixed on the flickering orange glow. Then, softly, like it wasn’t the first time she’d wanted to ask, she turned to Ellie and said, “Play me something?”

Ellie glanced at her, one brow lifting. “Got any requests?”

Dina grinned, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. “Surprise me.”

There was something playful in her voice—almost flirty, like the weight from earlier had lifted just enough to let something else drift in. Ellie’s lips twitched with the ghost of a smile as she adjusted the guitar on her lap.

“Well… brace yourself,” she said, plucking a few loose notes. “This one’s a classic.”

She cleared her throat, tapped the rhythm with her foot in the dirt, and then her fingers began to move—delicate and certain across the strings. The familiar melody filled the air, warm and slightly melancholic against the night.

Her voice came in low at first, husky around the edges, then steadier as she found the beat.

“We’re talking away

I don’t know what

I’m to say, I’ll say it anyway…”

Dina blinked, then slowly smiled, recognizing the song almost instantly. She leaned back on her hands again, letting the notes wash over her. The corners of her eyes crinkled, the expression on her face somewhere between fond amusement and something softer, deeper.

“Today is another day to find you

Shyin’ away

Oh, I’ll be comin’ for your love, okay…”

Ellie’s foot kept the quiet tempo as her voice rose with the chorus, surprisingly clear, a little rough around the edges but achingly earnest.

“Take on me

Take me on

I’ll be gone

In a day or two…”

The fire danced in the reflection of Dina’s eyes. She didn’t speak, didn’t joke or tease. She just watched her—really watched her—like Ellie had grown another layer right in front of her. Like the music had peeled something open.

“So needless to say

I’m odds and ends

But I’ll be stumblin’ away…”

Ellie didn’t look at her while she sang. Her gaze stayed mostly on the strings, occasionally glancing toward the flames. But there was something different in the way she carried the lyrics—like they meant more than she wanted to admit.

“Slowly learnin’ that life is okay

Say after me

It’s no better to be safe than sorry…”

Dina’s smile faded just a little, turning wistful.

“Take on me

Take me on

I’ll be gone

In a day or two…”

As the final chords drifted into the open air, Ellie let them linger, the echo of them gently swallowed by the night.

Dina let out a soft breath beside her, lips quirking. “Well… that didn’t suck.”

Ellie barked a short laugh, shaking her head. “Wow. High praise coming from you.”

They grinned at each other, the glow of the fire painting their faces in amber. For a moment, the world felt still. Simple.

Then Dina’s gaze flicked down, almost unconsciously, to Ellie’s mouth. Her smile faltered—just a fraction—but her eyes lingered, warm and unsure all at once. She leaned in slightly, like something was drawing her forward, magnetic and familiar. Ellie didn’t move, didn’t blink. Her breath caught, heart thudding somewhere beneath the bruises.

But before the moment could break into something more, the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel snapped through the air.

Ellie’s head turned, Dina immediately pulling back as her face shifted from softness to something guarded.

Jesse strode into the firelight with his usual lopsided grin, holding up a six-pack triumphantly. “I brought beer,” he announced, like he hadn’t just walked straight into something delicate and unspoken.

Dina’s scowl was immediate, her expression flickering with something she didn’t bother to hide. “Of course you did,” she muttered.

Ellie blinked, her eyes flicking between the two of them—then landing on Dina just a second longer.

Had there been a moment between them?

Her heart gave a strange, unsure flutter. The way Dina had leaned in… the way her eyes had lingered on her lips. It could’ve been the firelight. The stillness. Wishful thinking. Something flickering in her chest that she tried to crush before it took shape.

No. Dina didn’t look at her like that.

So Ellie shook the thought off, like brushing away ash. She pulled on a crooked smile as Jesse plopped down across the fire from them, his arms outstretched like he was claiming the whole night for himself. He handed Ellie a bottle, the cold glass damp with condensation.

“Did I miss anything good?” he asked, cracking his own beer and raising it in an imaginary toast.

Ellie gave a half-hearted shrug, twisting the cap off. “Nah,” she muttered before taking a sip, the bitterness settling behind her teeth.

Across from her, Dina let out a long sigh, then practically snatched a bottle from Jesse’s six-pack. She twisted the cap off without a word and took a long, deliberate gulp.

The fire snapped and popped, filling the space between them.

Jesse didn’t seem to notice the tension, his gaze already drifting toward the sky. But Ellie did. She felt it settle into her bones—the shift in Dina’s body language, the way she stared into the flames like they owed her something. Something unsaid. Something stolen.

And even though Ellie tried to tell herself it meant nothing…

She couldn’t stop wondering what might’ve happened if Jesse had come just five minutes later.

Chapter 8: New Years Eve

Notes:

While this is 100% the in game characters I am however taking aspects from the show that I enjoy. So you’ll recognize scenes that weren’t in game.

Joel sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a mess of wires, springs, and metal casings that looked like they belonged in a world far more civilized than the one they lived in now. His brow was furrowed in concentration, eyes narrowed as he carefully adjusted the tension on a set of replacement springs for an old circuit breaker box he’d salvaged from the east perimeter.

The guts of the thing were spread out in front of him—stripped copper wires, frayed insulation, cracked plastic panels. Most folks would’ve tossed it, declared it useless. But Joel didn’t believe in waste. Not when something could still be fixed. Not when it should be fixed.

With the handle of a screwdriver wedged between his teeth, he twisted a rusted screw free and pried back the faceplate. It came loose with a metallic snap, revealing a cluster of inner components: a coil spring assembly, worn to hell, barely holding tension.

“Damn thing,” he muttered around the screwdriver.

He set it aside, then reached for a new spring—well, new enough. He’d cannibalized it from an old gate latch two weeks ago, figured it would do the trick. Slipping it into place, he used the tip of the flathead to wind the coil tighter, guiding it into the notch with practiced fingers.

A wire sparked when it brushed the table, and Joel cursed under his breath, grabbing it with a set of needle-nose pliers and twisting the exposed ends into a cleaner bond before wrapping them with a bit of salvaged electrical tape. He tested the tension again—firm, steady.

He sat back with a grunt, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The job wasn’t finished yet, but it was coming together. Bit by bit. Like everything else in this world—if it didn’t break all at once, you might just stand a chance at fixing it.

And Joel was nothing if not stubborn when it came to broken things.

A sharp knock at the door pulled Joel from his work. He blinked, then leaned back slightly in his chair, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders as he called out, “Hey, kiddo.”

The door creaked open and Dina stepped in, tugging off a pair of thick work gloves as she gave him a small smile. Her winter coat was dusted with flecks of dried mud, hair tied back in its usual high ponytail, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Somethin’ go wrong out there?” Joel asked, setting down his screwdriver and eyeing her attire.

“Well, uh…” she let out a short breath, rubbing the back of her neck. “The main lines are clay. Cracked all to shit, and full of roots. We’re kind of at a loss, and our foreman is… not really foreman-ing.”

Joel huffed a short laugh, running a hand over his beard. “Yeah. Sounds about right. I’ll head out in a minute, see what I can do.”

Her eyes wandered to the cluttered table. Springs, wire strippers, a voltage tester, several half-disassembled breaker panels splayed out like dissected machines mid-surgery.

“What’re you working on?” she asked, stepping closer and leaning over the mess with curiosity.

“Fixin’ these breakers,” Joel said, tapping a battered metal panel with a knuckle. “They were gonna toss the whole unit, but all it really needed was new springs and a bit of wiring. People just don’t know how to look past the rust.”

Dina hummed thoughtfully. After a moment, she reached out, dragged a nearby chair beside him with a screech against the floor, and dropped into it.

“Teach me?” she asked, glancing sideways at him.

Joel raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. Then his expression softened into the faintest, proudest smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

He turned back to the panel, picking up a small, worn tool and holding it out to her. “Alright. First thing you do before touching anything is check if the wires are live. You fry your ass before fixin’ anything if you don’t. Now how do ya check?” 

Dina squinted down at the wires, then up at him, expression playful. “I… lick them?”

Joel let out a low, amused scoff. “Only if you want to glow in the dark.”

He held up the tool—a voltage tester, slim and scratched from years of use. “Use one of these. Touch the probe to the wire. If it lights up, you’ve got juice. If not, you’re clear.”

Dina leaned in, inspecting the device. “And that’s it?”

“Well, it’s a start,” Joel said, setting it aside and gesturing toward the panel. “This right here’s the important part. Bimetallic strip. See that? Too much current runs through, the strip heats up, bends, and trips the lever. Breaks the circuit. Stops it from overloadin’.”

He sat back a bit, tapping the tabletop for emphasis. “If that fails? Wires get hotter and hotter until somethin’ catches. Then the whole wall’s on fire. And now you ain’t got a house—just a smolderin’ pile of poor decisions.”

Dina stared at the tangle of wires and metal for a beat longer, the fire in her usual quick-witted curiosity dimming slightly into something more hesitant. Then, almost casually, she asked, “Can I ask you something?”

Joel, still hunched over the open breaker panel, didn’t look up. “Shoot,” he said, expecting another question about circuits or springs.

But Dina had other plans.

“Why is she angry at you?”

The words landed with a quiet thud between them. Joel froze, his screwdriver stalling mid-turn. He blinked down at the wires like they might offer an easier answer than the one sitting across from him.

“She said she was angry?” he asked, voice low, cautious.

Dina hesitated. “No, but…” Her lips pressed into a line. Anyone with half a brain can tell something’s off with them. Dina asked her—more than once—and she always just shrugs it off. Saying  everything’s fine. It clearly wasn’t. 

Joel scratched at his beard, the scrape of calloused fingers against coarse hair filling the silence. “You’re her best friend,” he said, like that settled it. “Reckon she would’ve told you.”

Dina leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Nope. Stonewalled me too.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, the kind of sigh that felt like it had weight. He picked up a stripped wire, turning it slowly between his fingers. “Well… I figure it’s normal. She’s nineteen. I’m…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “Whatever I am to her.”

He looked up finally, eyes tired but trying for some kind of resolution. “No one likes their parents at that age. I never got to that point with my own girl. Me and Ellie… we’re both figuring it out from scratch.” A beat passed. “We’ll get through it.”

Dina gave a slow nod, not entirely convinced but not challenging him either. “Yeah. That makes sense.” She leaned forward, gaze shifting back to the breaker. “So, the springs hold the levers back…?”

Joel’s voice interrupted, softer this time. “The thing is… I try.”

He wasn’t looking at her now. His hands were still, resting on the table, the screwdriver forgotten.

“I know I’m a hard-ass,” he said, almost with a smirk, though there was no humor in it. “Maybe too overprotective. And she’s… her.” He paused, searching for the right word but finding none. “But I mean—what did I do?” His voice broke slightly on the last word, just enough to betray something deeper. Something close to guilt.

Dina glanced at him, caught off guard by the crack in his usually solid exterior. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly.

Joel shook his head, looking away again. “Yeah, well… I can’t hold myself responsible for another person’s emotional state.”

Dina stared at him.

Then, with a snort and an incredulous laugh, she leaned back in her chair and said, “Are you in fucking therapy?”

Joel looked up, startled—and maybe a little amused despite himself.

“Because that was the most clinical, textbook thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” she added with a smirk, eyebrow arched.

Joel shot her a look—half defensive, half incredulous. “I ain’t in therapy,” he said, almost offended by the suggestion. “Never been.”

Dina leaned her elbows on the table, grinning now. “You sure? Because that ‘can’t be responsible for someone else’s emotional state’ bit? That’s straight-up therapist lingo, Joel.”

“I’m not in therapy,” he repeated firmly, the grit in his voice returning. He gestured at the half-assembled panel with the screwdriver. “Jesus. Go… go fix the main line. Saw out the cracked parts, pull the roots, and we’ll fill in the gaps with some ABS. You know the drill. Go on.”

He gave a dismissive flick of his hand, like he was swatting away a fly. “Shoo.”

Dina snorted, pushing herself up from the chair, her boots scraping lightly against the floor. “Alright, alright. Message received, old man.”

She made her way toward the door, still smirking—but before she reached it, she paused. Her hand hovered over the knob. She glanced back, and her voice dropped a little, sincerity slipping through her usual humor.

“It’ll be okay,” she said gently. “You and her.”

Joel didn’t look up, just grunted a quiet acknowledgment as he fiddled with a stubborn spring, but there was a tightness in his jaw that hadn’t been there before.

Dina turned the knob—but halted again when his voice followed her.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m in therapy,” Joel muttered, deadpan and quiet, almost like a kid trying not to be teased.

She looked over her shoulder, grin returning, and made a zipping motion across her lips. “Secret’s safe,” she said with a wink.

The door clicked shut behind her. Leaving him alone once again.

---

The sun hung low behind them, casting the hilltop in long golden shadows as the last light of day stretched across the valley below. The wind whistled gently through the sparse trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and old earth. Ellie lay prone in the dry grass, her elbows nestled into the dirt as she stared down the scope of the long-range rifle, cheek pressed against the stock, finger poised just above the trigger.

Tommy knelt a few feet behind her, watching the treeline through his own binoculars, one hand bracing against his knee. “Take your time,” he said low and steady. “No rush.”

Below them, at the base of the cliff, a group of infected meandered aimlessly near a collapsed shed, their movements jerky and erratic. Runners. Newly turned. Still fast. Still dangerous. One broke off from the group, sniffing the air like it could sense something was off. It shuffled a few paces toward the hill, head twitching, mouth slack and wet.

Ellie exhaled slowly, steadying the slight tremor in her fingers. Her grip on the rifle tightened just a bit as she lined up the shot. The crosshairs settled between the runner’s sunken eyes. Her world narrowed—no wind, no Tommy, no hillside. Just her and the shot.

She squeezed the trigger.

The gun kicked against her shoulder with a sharp thump, the crack of the shot echoing across the valley like a thunderclap. Down below, the runner’s head snapped back violently, a spray of blood misting the air before its body collapsed into a boneless heap.

“Dead center,” Tommy muttered behind her, nodding with approval. “Nice shot.”

Ellie didn’t respond right away. She blinked once, then pulled back from the scope, rubbing her shoulder where the recoil had landed hard. Her heart was still beating fast, but her face was calm—focused. Detached.

“Next one’s moving left,” she said, already adjusting her aim.

Tommy shifted beside her, binoculars raised again. “Yeah, I see him. Keep low. He’s quick.”

Ellie followed the infected through the scope, tracking its erratic, twitchy movements as it darted between the rusted remains of a car and the half-collapsed shed. This one was different—more alert, head jerking sharply at every sound. Its limbs moved with dangerous speed, like it hadn’t fully settled into rot yet.

She steadied her breathing again, lining up the shot. Her finger hovered over the trigger, but she waited. Patience. Timing. The runner suddenly stilled, sniffing the air again, head tilting toward the breeze that blew across the hilltop.

A single heartbeat passed.

Then she fired.

Another crack split the air. The runner dropped instantly, its legs folding beneath it before it crumpled into the tall grass. A soft thud. No scream. No warning for the others.

“That’s two,” Tommy muttered, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re gettin’ scary good at this.”

“A lot of them out there,” Ellie muttered, peeling her eye from the scope. The wind tugged at her jacket as she sat back on her heels, glancing over at Tommy.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he replied, his voice edged with fatigue as he scratched his beard. His eyes stayed fixed on the ravine below for a beat longer before he sighed, pushing himself up to stand. “They’re probably followin’ down Route 89. Could be spillin’ outta Alpine. Either way, too many to leave unchecked.”

He paused, thumb hooked under his belt as he surveyed the stretch of valley. “We should head back. I’ll set up a patrol to sweep through tomorrow.”

“I’ll go,” Ellie said without hesitation, already slinging the rifle across her back.

Tommy hesitated, his gaze cutting over to her with a flicker of something unreadable. “Actually,” he said, slowly, “I was thinkin’ of puttin’ you on gate duty.”

Ellie blinked. “Why?”

Tommy shifted, looking anywhere but at her. “Just ‘cause.”

“Bullshit.” Her tone sharpened. “You’ve got a dozen other people who can watch the gate. I’m your best runner, and you know it.”

Tommy sighed through his nose, clearly not in the mood to argue but knowing damn well she wasn’t going to let it drop. “Joel’s worried about you,” he admitted under his breath, like it pained him to say it out loud.

Ellie let out an aggravated groan, dragging a hand down her face. “Seriously? Again with this? I’m fine, Tommy. I’ve been fine.”

“To be fair,” Tommy started, then paused before finishing carefully, “your last run? You were reckless.”

“It was one clicker and a runner,” Ellie snapped, stepping closer, her eyes sharp. “A well-trained infant could’ve handled that. And I did. I handled it. That’s the goddamn job.”

Tommy shook his head, jaw tight. “It’s not just about handlin’ it, Ellie. You wandered off. Broke protocol. There are rules to patrols for a reason.”

She crossed her arms, shoulders squared. “I’m nineteen, Tommy. I’m not a kid. I can make my own choices. Joel is not my dad, and he can’t decide what I do.”

He scoffed, one brow lifting. “No, but he can sure as hell tell me.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them bristling in the cold wind. The last rays of sun dipped low behind the trees, casting long shadows over their faces. Tommy looked tired—like a man stuck in the middle of a war he never signed up for.

Tommy rubbed at the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “Look,” he said, voice low, wearied in a way that didn’t come from the day’s climb, “I’ve been dealin’ with him my whole life. Sometimes… it’s just easier to go along.”

Ellie scoffed, a bitter edge to her breath. “I don’t care if it’s easier. It’s not fair.” Her boots shifted in the dirt as she turned toward him fully, the weight in her chest bubbling toward the surface. “And by the way? You know I’m the last person anyone should be worried about when it comes to infected.”

She yanked up the sleeve of her jacket, revealing the dark swirl of her tattoo—the inked vines twisting across the spot where the bite lived beneath. The skin had long since scarred over, but the memory of it hadn’t dulled.

Tommy’s eyes widened for a split second. “Hey—no.” He reached out, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly, tugging the sleeve back down. His voice dropped to a hush, sharp and anxious. “You swore. We don’t talk about that.”

Ellie didn’t look away. Her eyes were defiant, burning with something wild and unruly. “I got bit on my arm.”

“Ellie—” Tommy groaned, stepping closer like he could physically contain the words before they got loose.

“I got bit, everybody!” Ellie shouted suddenly, her voice cutting across the wind like a crack of lightning. She threw her arms wide, head tilted to the sky. “Hey! I got bit! Hey! Hey, hey! I’m immune!”

Her voice echoed down the cliffside, carried off by the wind to the nothingness beyond. The world didn’t answer. The valley stayed quiet, the infected far below unaware or uncaring. But Tommy flinched like she’d just fired a shot beside his head.

“Jesus, Ellie,” he hissed, stepping forward, eyes darting over the hilltop like someone might’ve heard, like someone might be watching. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She stared at him, her chest rising and falling, breath sharp with fury—or grief—or both.

“You keep actin’ like I’m fragile,” she bit out. “Like Joel’s gotta protect me from everything. But he can’t protect me from what’s already happened. And you can’t either.”

Tommy let out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose like her words physically pained him. He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head slowly, a dry laugh escaping. “I swear,” he muttered, “you and my brother? Same goddamn fսckin’ person. Stubborn as mules. Grit in your teeth, the both of you.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Well, if we’re the same person,” she said, fixing her rifle across her shoulder, “you know you’re not winning this argument.”

Tommy gave her a glare—not entirely without affection—before exhaling through his nose, shoulders slumping in reluctant surrender. “Fine,” he muttered. “You’re on the run tomorrow.”

Ellie’s smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “Hell yeah.”

“But,” he cut in, raising a stern finger, “you follow the captain’s orders. No wanderin’ off. No solo hero shit. You hear me?”

Ellie clicked her heels together like a cartoon soldier and gave him a sloppy mock salute. “Sir, yes sir!”

Tommy rolled his eyes, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face as he turned toward the horses. “Jesus,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Should’ve just let Joel handle you.”

“Too late for that,” Ellie quipped, hoisting herself up into the saddle with practiced ease.

The two of them nudged their horses forward, hooves crunching over the snow as the last of the evening light bled from the sky. The world was quiet around them, the hush of winter settling in like a blanket as they rode side by side, the lights of Jackson flickering in the distance—a small, warm promise waiting at the edge of a darkened world.

The gates of Jackson creaked open with familiar ease as Ellie and Tommy rode through, the guards giving them casual nods, rifles slung over their shoulders. Snow clung to the edges of their hoods and horses, melting in slow rivulets as they passed under the outer lights and into the heart of the settlement.

It wasn’t long before the two reached the stables. The scent of hay, horse sweat, and old wood welcomed them like an old song. Tommy slid off his horse first with a practiced thump, his boots crunching against the packed dirt floor. He gave his horse a quick pat, then turned, glancing up at Ellie still seated on Shimmer.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, worn. “Just… give him a chance again. He ain’t perfect, but he’s tryin’. That’s gotta count for somethin’, right?”

Ellie’s hands paused on the reins. Her eyes didn’t meet his—they drifted past him, out across the snowy roofs of Jackson and toward the darker ridges beyond, where the sun pressed in like a weight. The quiet between them stretched just long enough for Tommy to shift on his heels.

“Goodbye, Tommy,” she said softly, the words carrying a finality to them.

Tommy hesitated, then let out a long sigh through his nose. “Yeah. Bye, kiddo.”

He gave Shimmer a quick rub on the nose and then walked off, shoulders hunched, disappearing between the stable doors and into the settling cold.

Ellie slid off the saddle a moment later, boots hitting the dirt with a dull thud. She took a moment to run her hand along Shimmer’s neck, fingers brushing through the horse’s coarse mane. The quiet in the stables was comforting, broken only by the soft sounds of animals shifting and snorting in their stalls.

Then came the voice, warm and familiar—cutting through the quiet like sunlight.

“Well, if it isn’t our returning sharpshooter,” Dina said with a teasing smile as she leaned casually against the wooden gate of the stable. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, a few strands sticking to her forehead from whatever labor she’d been doing. “How was it out there?” 

Ellie turned, her guarded expression softening a little at the sight of her. “Hey,” she said, brushing snow from her sleeve. “Tommy wants to send out some crews tomorrow. Clear out some infected coming in from the south.”

Dina made a face. “Fun.”

Ellie nodded toward her clothes—still dusted with sawdust and streaked with grime. “You got stable duty today?”

“Nah.” Dina waved her hand, stepping inside the stable. “Was out with the crew working on the piping for the new outer houses. That shitty prefab stuff? Cracked all to hell. Took forever to dig through the ice to even get to it.”

Ellie let out a soft huff of amusement. “Sounds like a blast.”

Dina just shrugged, fiddling with a frayed strap on her glove, her eyes dipping away for a moment before she spoke again. “You… going to that thing tonight?”

Ellie blinked. “You mean the glorified pep rally for community morale or whatever bullshit Maria keeps trying to brand it as?”

“That’s the one,” Dina said with a small smile.

Ellie scoffed, shifting her weight. “I don’t know. Kinda feels mandatory. Might sneak in late, stand in the back with the other misanthropes.”

Dina was still toying with the frayed edge of her gloves, her fingers moving slowly, as if stalling for something. “You planning on taking anyone?” she asked casually, like she wasn’t watching Ellie out of the corner of her eye.

Ellie let out a snort, slinging her arm over Shimmer’s saddle. “Who am I gonna take?” she asked, her tone dry. “You think there’s a line forming around the block for me?”

Dina gave a pointed shrug. “I dunno. Maybe… Cat?”

Ellie grimaced, pulling back like the name left a sour taste in her mouth. “Me and Cat are fine now,” she said, drawing the word out like it meant less than it should. “But showing up together at a party? Pretty sure that’s a bad idea wrapped in a worse one.”

“Fair,” Dina said, lips twitching in amusement. She stepped forward then, nudging her shoulder lightly against Ellie’s. “Well… maybe we can just go together?”

Ellie blinked, surprised, and Dina grinned as she went on. “We’ll smoke a little, sneak in halfway through, dance like idiots, and count down the new year together like everyone else.”

Ellie tilted her head, brow furrowing. “I thought you’d be going with Jesse.”

Dina rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. “We’re done,” she said flatly. 

Before Ellie could even open her mouth, Dina held up a hand. “Yes. Again.”

That earned a laugh. Ellie shook her head, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. “Jesus. What the hell is up with you two?”

Dina’s eyes lingered on Ellie’s for a second too long. The amusement on her face dimmed just slightly. “I don’t know,” she said honestly, before blinking and shaking it off. She gave Ellie a playful shove to the shoulder. “But if you don’t want to go with me, you better still show up. I expect to see you loitering in the back like a little gremlin.”

Ellie chuckled, stepping back with a mock stumble. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

Dina grinned at that, her expression bright. “Good.” She turned toward the stable exit, walking backward a few steps. “I’m gonna shower. See you tonight?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, watching her go. “See you then.”

Once Dina was gone and the sounds of her boots had faded down the icy path, Ellie turned back to Shimmer, letting her hand drift gently along the mare’s snout. The horse huffed, warm breath pooling in the winter air. Ellie leaned her forehead against her mane for a second, the world narrowing to the steady rhythm of her breathing and the distant, quiet thump of music starting to rise from the town square.

---

The moon hung high above Jackson, casting a pale glow over the snow-blanketed town. Ellie walked the familiar path toward the mess hall—now transformed for the night into a lively hub of New Year’s Eve celebration. Her hands were tucked deep into the pockets of her worn jeans, shoulders hunched slightly against the cold. The crunch of snow beneath her boots mixed with the muffled sounds of laughter and music spilling from the building ahead.

All around her, people milled about, their faces flushed from the cold and the drinks. Some paused to greet her with warm smiles or nods, but Ellie only offered brief acknowledgments as she passed. To her left, a group gathered around a festival booth, cheering as someone knocked down a tower of tin bottles with a beanbag. Nearby, another group competed in a game of darts, laughter rising as a poorly aimed throw nearly struck the edge of a tent.

The savory scent of grilled meat drifted from a corner where a few volunteers were manning an improvised cookout, the sizzle of hot dogs and burgers punctuating the festive noise. On the opposite side of the yard, children ran through the snow in a chaotic game of tag, their giggles carrying on the wind. Ellie slowed for a moment, watching them with a small, wistful smile.

The mess hall stood ahead, its rustic frame adorned in strings of golden lights that twinkled gently like stars. She stepped inside, the blast of warm air wrapping around her like a blanket. Music filled the space—upbeat, live, a local band giving it their all on the makeshift stage. The floor vibrated faintly with each beat.

Ellie’s gaze scanned the crowd until it landed on Dina, spinning with laughter on the dance floor, her dark curls bouncing as she moved with her partner. For a fleeting moment, Ellie’s expression softened.

She weaved through the crowd, ignoring a few people who tried to pull her into conversation, until she reached the drink table. She poured herself a beer and took a small sip, the bitter taste familiar and grounding.

Then her eyes shifted.

Across the room, near the far wall, stood Joel. He was leaning slightly against a wooden support beam, a drink in one hand, Tommy and Maria beside him. They were talking, laughing even, but Joel’s attention had shifted. He’d seen her. He raised his drink in quiet greeting.

Ellie froze.

For a second, something flickered in her expression—something unreadable. Then, without acknowledging him, she turned her back and walked away, disappearing deeper into the crowd, the music swallowing her footsteps.

Ellie moved through the crowd, her boots scuffing against the scuffed wooden floor as people danced, drank, and shouted over the music. The buzz of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air. Instead of joining in, she drifted toward the snack table near the far wall, leaning against it with a quiet exhale. The surface was cluttered with half-empty bowls of popcorn, pretzels, and trays of sweets already picked over. She didn’t reach for any of it.

Her eyes were fixed on the dance floor.

Dina spun again, laughing as her partner twirled her under the soft string lights. Her dark hair caught the warm glow, her face lit with joy. She moved with ease, like the night had no weight on her shoulders, like nothing could touch her. Ellie watched, unmoving, sipping her beer as something tangled in her chest—tight and familiar.

“God, I hate these things,” a voice said behind her.

Ellie turned. Jesse stood there, a bottle in hand, his expression halfway between annoyance and resignation.

She let out a dry chuckle. “Tell me about it. Took half a beer and a full-on guilt trip just to show up.”

Jesse smirked, taking a sip of his drink. “Your old man really laid into me today.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, a slight tension forming around her mouth. “What happened?”

“Another one of his ‘stay sharp’ speeches,” Jesse said, mimicking Joel’s tone with a smirk. “Don’t go here, don’t go there. Double-check your maps. Like I haven’t been running these routes since forever.”

Ellie sighed, her eyes still on the dance floor. “Yeah… he gets real invested when it’s my name on the roster.”

Jesse followed her gaze. “She’s putting on quite the show tonight.”

Ellie didn’t respond at first. Her eyes moved over Dina’s form again—the way she laughed, the way her hair fell across her face, the way she seemed completely herself out there. Then she gave a small shake of her head, as if trying to brush something off.

“I give you guys two weeks until you’re back together,” she said dryly.

Jesse scoffed. “Not gonna happen.” He turned to look at her more directly. “She… say something to you?”

Ellie gave a low, amused laugh. “Make it one week.”

As if on cue, Dina turned. Her eyes swept the room, and when she spotted Ellie, her whole face lit up. She murmured something to her dance partner and immediately began weaving through the crowd.

“Ellie, hey!” she called out, already closing the distance.

Before Ellie could say anything, Dina was wrapping her in a hug, arms warm and insistent. Ellie stiffened for a second, then let herself ease into it, closing her eyes briefly as she returned the embrace.

Dina pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “What took you so long?”

“Well, I’m here, ain’t I?” Ellie replied, voice soft but touched with a smile.

“Dina,” Jesse said behind them, his voice a little sharper now.

“Jesse,” Dina replied, glancing over her shoulder. The name left her mouth with minimal effort, her attention already back on Ellie. She took Ellie’s hand without hesitation, fingers lacing easily with hers.

“Come on. You owe me a dance.”

Before Ellie could argue, Dina was tugging her onto the dance floor, the music swelling around them. The lights seemed brighter now, the room a blur of motion and sound.

“Hey!” Jesse called after them. “Don’t forget we need you at first light. Get some rest!”

Dina waved him off without looking back.

Ellie didn’t answer either—just let herself be pulled into the rhythm, the crowd, and Dina’s orbit.

The tempo shifted—soft, mellow, a slow tune melting into the air like smoke. The bass hummed through the wooden floorboards, gentle and steady, a heartbeat beneath the voices and laughter still echoing at the edges of the room. Overhead, string lights twinkled like lazy stars, casting the dance floor in a warm, golden hue.

In the center of it all, Dina led Ellie by the hand, guiding her into the lull of the music.

Ellie’s boots creaked quietly against the floor as she allowed herself to be pulled forward, her free hand still loosely wrapped around the neck of her beer bottle until Dina plucked it from her fingers and set it aside without a word.

Dina took Ellie’s hands and gently slid them down to her hips, fingers finding their place just above the waistband of her jeans. The fabric of her sweater was soft and slightly warm beneath Ellie’s palms, her body already heated from dancing. Dina stepped in close, the space between them shrinking until Ellie could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Then Dina’s arms looped loosely around Ellie’s neck, fingertips brushing the edge of her neck. Her dark eyes lifted, locking with Ellie’s, shimmering with mischief and something far gentler underneath.

“I have a very serious question for you,” Dina said, her voice low and mock-dramatic, her mouth twitching with the start of a grin. “How bad do I smell?”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

Dina tilted her head forward, lifting her collar slightly in exaggerated suggestion. “Come on, do it. Be honest.”

Rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smirk, Ellie leaned in and gave her a quick, playful sniff, her nose brushing against Dina’s neck for the briefest second.

A beat passed.

“Like…” Ellie drawled, dragging it out while raising a brow, “a hot pile of garbage.”

Dina gasped, stepping back just slightly, hand to her chest in mock offense. “Wow. Okay.”

Before Ellie could say more, Dina suddenly leaned in again and rubbed herself against Ellie’s cheek with theatrical aggression, like a cat marking its territory.

“There,” she said triumphantly. “How about that?”

Ellie grimaced, wiping at her cheek. “Gross!”

Dina burst out laughing—really laughing, head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut. Her laughter was bright and unguarded, and it carved out a little space of warmth inside Ellie that she didn’t quite know what to do with.

“You love it,” Dina said, grinning as she leaned in again.

She slipped her arms tighter around Ellie’s neck and nestled her head into the curve of her collarbone, her nose brushing the skin just under Ellie’s jaw. Ellie froze for a breath, then slowly let her hands slide more comfortably around Dina’s waist, her fingers hooking slightly into the back of her belt loop.

The two of them swayed together, slow and unhurried, the world dimming around them as the song played on. Dina’s breath was soft against Ellie’s skin—warm, familiar. The scent of her shampoo lingered in the air between them, something citrusy and clean, tinged with a faint trace of smoke from the outdoor grills. Her hair tickled Ellie’s cheek as they moved.

Ellie’s hands tightened slightly on Dina’s waist as her gaze drifted, scanning the room. The lights caught the eyes of a few onlookers. Some were watching curiously. Others—alpha’s with beers in hand and hollow grins—stared too long. Ellie felt her chest tighten, that creeping sensation of being seen in the wrong way, for the wrong reason.

She leaned in, her voice low, barely audible beneath the hum of the music. “Every alpha in this room is staring at you right now.”

Dina didn’t flinch. She leaned up, her lips grazing the shell of Ellie’s ear as she whispered, her breath soft and teasing, “Maybe they’re staring at you.”

Ellie scoffed, the sound dry and disbelieving. “They’re not.”

Dina didn’t back down. “Maybe they’re jealous of you,” she murmured again, her voice like a velvet thread tugging Ellie closer.

Ellie’s eyes flicked around once more. The crowd blurred and buzzed—people laughing, dancing, drinking—but still, those eyes. She swallowed. “I’m… just a girl,” she said finally, the words falling out too quietly, like a truth she’d never meant to say out loud. “Not a threat.”

Dina stopped moving.

She pulled back slowly, cupping Ellie’s face with both hands, her palms warm against Ellie’s cheeks. Her thumb grazed the edge of Ellie’s jaw as she looked up at her, her expression suddenly serious, almost reverent.

“Oh, Ellie…” Dina whispered.

Her brown eyes searched Ellie’s, reading every flicker of uncertainty hiding in those deep green depths. Then her hand moved, fingers tracing a gentle line from Ellie’s cheekbone to the curve of her jaw.

“I think they should be terrified of you.”

The words hung in the space between them, crackling with a weight that made Ellie’s breath hitch.

And before Ellie could respond, Dina leaned in.

Her lips pressed softly, deliberately, against Ellie’s—slow and sure, like a secret she’d been waiting to share. Ellie froze, eyes wide. Her mind blanked, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and throat.

For a second, she didn’t move.

Then something cracked open inside her.

Her hands gripped tighter at Dina’s waist as her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned in, meeting the kiss with growing heat, something unsure but aching. Dina made a quiet sound—half breath, half laugh—and her fingers slid into the back of Ellie’s neck, pulling her down, closer, deeper.

The kiss deepened, the noise of the hall dimming into nothing. All Ellie could feel was Dina—her warmth, her insistence, the way her mouth moved against hers like it had always known how.

When they finally broke apart, it was with ragged breaths and flushed cheeks. Dina didn’t step back. Her forehead rested against Ellie’s, and her smile was small but fierce.

“See?” she whispered, voice trembling with something electric. “I told you. They should be terrified.”

Ellie grinned at Dina, a smile so wide it crinkled her eyes and made her cheeks ache, the kind of smile that only came when she forgot, even just for a second, how heavy the world could be. Dina laughed, still swaying with her, her hands resting lightly on Ellie’s shoulders.

But the warmth between them evaporated in an instant.

“This is a family event,” came a voice sharp enough to cut through the music and laughter.

They both turned. Seth stood a few feet away, tall and weathered by age, his gray hair thinning, his mouth pulled into a permanent scowl. His eyes, hard and judgmental, flicked between them like they were something unpleasant stuck to his shoe.

“Sorry,” Dina said lightly, still holding Ellie as she tried to keep the moment from crumbling. She offered him a smile, half-apology, half-dismissal.

But Seth didn’t budge. He kept staring, his arms crossed, his mouth twisting into something nastier.

“I said sorry,” Dina repeated, firmer now. She could feel Ellie’s grip tightening on her hips.

Seth let out a breath through his nose, more like a scoff. “Just remember next time. There’s kids around.”

Dina rolled her eyes, clearly done with his sanctimonious tone. “Yeah? Like you’re setting such a great example?”

Seth’s face darkened. “Oh, perfect. Just what this town needs,” he muttered. “Another loud-mouthed dyke.”

The air shifted. Something inside Ellie snapped.

She turned in Dina’s arms so fast it startled her. Her jaw clenched, eyes glassy with rage, body coiled like a spring. Her fists balled at her sides.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Her voice was low, dangerous, shaking with fury.

Dina moved quickly, stepping in front of her. “Ellie—no. Don’t.”

But Ellie wasn’t listening. Her shoulders tensed, her fists rising.

And then—

A blur.

A crack.

Seth hit the ground with a grunt, landing hard on his side.

Joel stood over him, chest heaving, knuckles red, his face carved from stone. His voice came low and furious. “Get the hell outta here.”

Seth groaned, trying to push himself up on unsteady arms. “Get your goddamn hands off me.”

Before the situation could spiral further, Maria appeared like a storm on legs. “Hey!” she snapped, first at Joel, then Seth. “Enough.”

She grabbed Seth by the arm and jerked him upright, not gently. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

Seth struggled. “What about them?” he growled, pointing back at Ellie and Dina.

“I said, we’re going for a walk,” Maria repeated, her voice like iron.

She hauled him out of the room. The party, once loud and carefree, now buzzed with awkward tension. Conversations had died. People were staring. Whispering.

Ellie stood frozen, her chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. Dina’s hand was still pressed gently against her chest, trying to ground her, to pull her back down.

Joel turned to her, the hardness in his face melting. His voice was softer now, almost tentative. “You all right, kiddo?”

Ellie’s glare cut through him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed.

Joel blinked, taken aback. “He had no right—”

“And you do?” she shot back, voice trembling. “You think I need your fucking help?”

Joel opened his mouth, then shut it. His eyes flicked away. A beat passed. “Right,” he muttered, voice low, and turned his back on her.

Ellie stood there, staring at the space he left behind. It was like the air still held the shape of him, the silence swelling in his absence. The music had resumed, but it felt distant, like it was playing underwater. All around her, eyes lingered—curious, judgmental, pitying. She could feel their stares like heat on the back of her neck, a burn she couldn’t escape.

Her hands were still fists. Her jaw still clenched. Her heart pounded like it was trying to punch its way out of her chest.

“Ellie?” Dina’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, like she was afraid to shatter something fragile.

But Ellie didn’t look at her.

“I gotta go,” she muttered, voice hoarse, already turning.

She pushed off the dance floor and made her way through the crowd, ignoring the way people stepped aside, the way their conversations stalled as she passed. She didn’t stop to apologize. Didn’t care. Every step away from that room felt like peeling off a layer of skin.

She shoved open the community hall’s double doors and stepped out into the night.

Cold air hit her like a slap.

She drew in a sharp breath, the chill biting her throat, her arms wrapping around herself as if to hold everything in. Stars blinked overhead, scattered across the dark sky, indifferent. The noise from inside dulled to a distant thrum behind her. Out here, the world felt bigger—and lonelier.

Ellie walked a few paces away from the building, boots crunching over the frostbitten grass, and stopped. Her breath puffed visibly in the air. She ran a hand through her hair, then dragged it down her face, trying to wipe away the heat still crawling up her neck.

She wasn’t sure what she was angrier at—Seth, Joel, the people staring, or herself.

She just knew she had to get out of there before she broke.

---

Ellie’s breath curled into the cold night air in pale ribbons, vanishing just as quickly as they appeared. Her hands were shoved deep in the pockets of her jacket, shoulders hunched, head bowed against the cold and the weight pressing on her chest. Jackson’s streets were mostly quiet now, the laughter and music from the party far behind her. Only the soft crunch of her boots over snow-covered gravel accompanied her as she made her way home.

Her steps slowed when the house came into view. Warm yellow light glowed softly from Joel’s porch. And there he was—sitting in his usual spot, hunched over his guitar. A steaming mug sat beside him, forgotten, while his fingers idly plucked at the strings, coaxing out a slow, contemplative melody. Something aimless. Wandering.

He looked up at the sound of her approach, the quiet strum falling away as his eyes met hers.

They stared at each other across the way—silent, unmoving.

Ellie’s gaze narrowed slightly, and for a moment it looked like she was going to keep walking. She dropped her head again and moved past him, heading toward the gate that led to the backyard. Joel watched her, his shoulders stiffening slightly, jaw tightening—not in anger, but in regret.

But just as her hand touched the latch, Ellie stopped. She let out a frustrated groan, her breath puffing out hard, and turned around. She trudged up the steps to Joel’s porch and sat down on the far edge, just out of reach but close enough to speak. Her eyes didn’t meet his.

Joel gave a small nod, trying for casual. “Hey.”

Ellie glanced at the mug beside him. “What’re you drinking?”

He followed her eyes, then gave a sheepish shrug. “Coffee.”

Her brow furrowed. “Where’d you get that?”

Joel smirked faintly, eyes dropping to the guitar resting in his lap. “Uh, those folks that passed through last week. Traders from back east.”

“Must’ve been expensive,” Ellie said.

Joel gave a low chuckle, self-deprecating. “A little embarrassed at what I had to trade for it, honestly. But… it’s not bad.”

She gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, folding her arms across her chest.

A silence settled between them—thick, uncomfortable. The air smelled like pine and woodsmoke and something unsaid.

Ellie spoke first, her voice low. “I had Seth under control.”

Joel didn’t look at her. He nodded, slow and steady. “Yeah. I know.”

More silence.

She shifted, her foot tapping nervously against the wooden porch. “And you need to stop harassing Jesse about my patrols.”

Joel let out a breath through his nose, not quite a sigh. “Okay.”

There was a pause. Then:

“Dina,” he said, tone careful.

Ellie turned to look at him sharply. “What about her?”

Joel didn’t flinch. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Ellie blinked. “No! No. She—” Her voice cracked a little, her face flushing. “That was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Joel raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“She just…” Ellie rubbed at her temple, looking frustrated with herself. “I don’t know why she did that.”

Joel gave her a long look, one that saw through all the noise.

“You do like her,” he said softly.

Ellie looked away, her voice barely audible. “I’m so stupid.”

Joel’s expression shifted—something gentler settling into his features. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease. He just sat there with her in the quiet.

“You’re not stupid,” he said after a beat.

Ellie pushed herself upright, boots scraping across the boards as she drifted to the middle of the porch. She leaned forward against the railing, elbows braced on the rough timber, eyes fixed on the empty street below. Snowflakes drifted lazily beneath the porch light, glinting like tiny sparks before they vanished into the darkness.

Behind her, Joel rose with a soft groan—old joints, long days—then crossed the porch and stopped a couple of steps away, giving her space. He folded his arms, mug forgotten on the chair, and looked out at the same quiet street, as if the words he needed might be written there.

“I like Dina,” he said finally, voice low but clear.

Ellie’s jaw tightened; she didn’t acknowledge him.

Joel scraped a hand through his graying hair. “I don’t claim to know exactly what’s goin’ on between you two. Maybe you’re still figurin’ it out yourselves. But I do know she’d be lucky—hell, anyone would be lucky—to have you.”

Ellie let out a sharp, incredulous breath and turned on him, eyes hot. “You’re such an asshole, y’know that?”

Joel opened his mouth, hands coming up in a placating gesture. “I’m not tryin’ to—”

But Ellie’s voice, ragged with anger and something deeper, cut him off. “I was supposed to die in that hospital.” She slammed her palm down on the weather-worn side table beside the rocking chair; the ceramic mug rattled, coffee sloshing over the rim. “My life would’ve fucking mattered.”

Her shoulders hitched; beneath the porch light he could see the tremor in her lip, the sheen in her eyes.

“You took that from me.”

The accusation hung in the cold air, stark and final.

Joel closed his eyes a moment, letting the words sink in like a blade. When he opened them he stared out past the dark houses, at nothing in particular, then leaned both hands on the railing next to her, head bowed.

“If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment…” His voice was barely more than a rasp. He shook his head once, slow, then turned so she could see the truth plain on his face. “I would do it all over again.”

No bravado, no apology—just the raw and stubborn love that had driven every choice he’d made since the day he found her.

Ellie swallowed, blinked hard, looked away. Snow settled soundlessly on the railing between them.

“Yeah,” she whispered at length, ache threading through the single word. “I just… I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

Joel’s nod was small, pained; the words struck, but he didn’t flinch. A silence stretched—fraught yet strangely gentle—before Ellie spoke again, softer, almost tentative:

“But I’d like to try.”

Joel’s head snapped up. For a heartbeat he seemed afraid to trust what he’d heard. Then a spark—thin, fragile, desperately hopeful—flickered in his eyes. His voice wavered when he answered.

“I’d like that,” he said, earnest, every syllable weighted with gratitude and promise.

They stood side by side at the railing, snow ghosting around them, the porch light casting their shadows long across the boards—two figures in the quiet, separated by inches yet bound by everything that had led them here. The road to forgiveness would be jagged, uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, they were facing it together.

Notes:

 

Spare comments? Spare comments anyone?

Seriously give me something here… please?

Chapter 9: Six

The pounding on Ellie’s door was loud enough to rattle the frame, jerking her from sleep. She stirred with a groggy grunt, blinking against the early morning light filtering through the slats of her blinds. Her hand fumbled for the alarm clock beside her bed. The glowing red numbers made her heart lurch.

“Shit,” she muttered, sitting up abruptly. She’d completely overslept—hadn’t even set her alarms.

The pounding continued.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called, dragging herself out of bed. Her hair was a mess, sticking up in wild tufts, and her shirt was twisted from sleep. She yanked open the door—

And came face to face with Jesse, who was leaning against the garage wall with a cocked brow. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said.

Ellie groaned, rubbing at her face. “I overslept. Shit. I’m sorry—just… give me a minute to get dressed.”

Jesse hummed thoughtfully, watching her with an unreadable expression. “Heard you had quite the night last night.”

Ellie froze mid-step, one hand gripping the edge of the door. The memory came back fast and hot—Dina’s face close, her breath warm, the feel of her lips, gentle and curious, lingering like a ghost. Ellie flushed to the roots of her ears, suddenly wide awake.

“I… she kissed me,” she blurted, voice cracking. “It was just Dina being Dina. It didn’t mean anything. She didn’t mean anything by it—”

Jesse blinked, confused, his brow pulling into a frown. “I was talking about your fight with Seth,” he said slowly. Then his eyes narrowed. “Wait… you kissed Dina?”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “Oh. I thought that’s—” she trailed off, words getting stuck somewhere between her tongue and her guilt.

Jesse pushed off the wall, now staring at her with the same expression people wore when they found their food burning in the oven. “We just break up, and you make a move on my girl?”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “No! No, I didn’t… it wasn’t like that. She was probably just trying to make you jealous or something, I don’t know. I didn’t— I would never—” She waved her hands uselessly in the air. “Oh fuck, this is so awkward.”

For a beat, Jesse said nothing.

Then he cracked a grin and let out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m messing with you, man. I don’t care. Seriously. Just get dressed before we miss the patrol.”

Ellie stared at him, blinking, her brain still trying to process the whiplash. “You’re the worst,” she muttered, shoving the door halfway closed.

But Jesse stuck a hand out, stopping it just before it shut. He leaned in with a playful smirk. “It’s still fucked up that you did that, though.”

“Jesse—!”

She slammed the door in his face with a groan as his laughter echoed outside.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, though a reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She pushed herself off the door and crossed the room in a few strides, grabbing the jeans she’d tossed over the back of a chair the night before. She stepped into them quickly, hopping slightly as she tugged them up. Her shirt came next—wrinkled, but good enough for patrol—and then she sat on the edge of the bed to lace up her scuffed sneakers.

Outside, the snow had picked up again, flakes drifting lazily past her window, catching in the early morning light. She stood and shrugged on her winter jacket, the familiar creak of old leather grounding her. Gloves followed, pulled snug over chilled fingers. She slung her backpack over one shoulder, already checking mentally for her knife, journal, ammo pouch—habit.

She was halfway to the door when she paused, running a hand through her tangled hair and tugging it into a quick, loose ponytail. Then, with a small sigh, she pulled the door open again.

And of course, Jesse was still there, leaning casually against the wall like he owned the place, a smug grin plastered on his face.

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “You just gonna hang out here all day?”

“Thought I’d make sure you didn’t fall back asleep,” he said, straightening.

“Right.”

As she stepped out, shouldering her pack more securely, she glanced around. “Hey… is Joel up?”

Jesse shook his head, pushing off the wall to walk alongside her down the path. “We got reports of infected out north,” he said, his tone more serious now. “Maria sent him and Tommy out early to scout. Left before sunrise.”

Ellie’s expression tightened slightly. “That sucks.”

“Yep,” Jesse replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Can’t imagine they got much sleep.”

He cast her a sideways glance, smirking again. “Definitely not as much as you.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, exhaling through her nose. “Shut up. I was just about to get up.”

“Sure you were.”

They made their way into the morning cold, snow crunching beneath their boots. The streets of Jackson were slowly coming alive—early risers hauling crates, someone brushing off a frosted window, kids tossing snowballs near the edges of the main square. Ellie trailed a few steps behind Jesse, her shoulders hunched slightly, eyes scanning the sleepy town.

The snow had laid a soft hush over everything, but Jesse’s voice broke through it after a moment, casual but pointed.

“Heads up—you’re the talk of the town this morning.”

Ellie groaned, already regretting getting out of bed. “Ugh. What?”

Jesse glanced back at her with a grin. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight: You kissed Dina—”

“She kissed me,” Ellie cut in quickly, her voice tight, like she’d been rehearsing that clarification since the moment it happened.

Jesse lifted his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Right. She kissed you. Which then, apparently, triggered Seth to call you a… not-so-nice word.”

Ellie blew out a cold breath. “Yep.”

“And then Joel decked him—”

“More of a push,” she muttered, eyes fixed on the ground as they walked.

“And then,” Jesse continued, “you got mad at Joel. That part lost me a little.”

Ellie stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets. “Yeah, well… it was a strange night, man.”

Jesse let out a low whistle and shook his head. “Sounds exciting.”

They turned a corner near the town’s main intersection, passing a few guards posted at the outpost tower, steam rising from their thermoses. Jesse slowed his pace slightly, letting her catch up beside him.

“Maria wants a word with you, by the way.”

Ellie looked over at him sharply. “What? Why?”

He shrugged, overly nonchalant. “She’s at the diner.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about Seth?”

Jesse held up both hands. “No clue. I just deliver the messages, man.”

Ellie let out a groan, dragging her boots a little through the snow like a kid avoiding a chore. “Just tell her you never saw me.”

“Nope.”

She shot him a look. “Come on, where’s your fucking loyalty?”

Jesse turned to her, eyes wide in mock offense. “Excuse me? I am being loyal. I’m loyally saving your ass from getting pulled off patrol and chewed out in public.”

Ellie snorted despite herself. “Wow. True friendship.”

Jesse shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets, still grinning, as they continued their walk through the snow-draped streets. Ellie fell into step beside him, her breath puffing out in soft clouds that lingered in the frosty morning air.

Jackson was wide awake now.

The town square was quietly bustling, in its own sleepy, wintry way. Bundled-up townsfolk moved between buildings, their boots crunching over packed snow. Smoke curled up from chimneys, blurring the edges of rooftops in the pale morning light. A woman passed them carrying firewood, her child clinging to the back of her coat, cheeks red from the cold. Nearby, someone was tending to a sled hitched to a pair of shaggy, snorting mules. The animals stamped and huffed, shaking flakes from their manes.

A few guards stood at the gate, chatting with Maria’s patrol rotation, rifles slung casually across their shoulders. From the distance, the faint ring of a hammer echoed—someone was working on the scaffolding near the mill. It was the kind of peaceful, domestic noise that Ellie still didn’t entirely trust. She’d never grown up with it. It always felt like something too fragile, too borrowed.

She pulled her jacket tighter and shifted her pack on her shoulders.

She pulled her jacket tighter and shifted her pack on her shoulders, the weight of it grounding her as the wind cut along the street. The scent of snow, pine smoke, and distant frying oil drifted in the air, carried on the breeze.

She glanced sideways at Jesse, his hands jammed in his coat pockets, snowflakes clinging to the shoulders of his jacket. A weird twinge stirred in her chest—something that hadn’t quite settled since last night. Guilt, maybe. Not the kind that stabbed, but the kind that lingered at the edges, quiet and uncertain.

They were broken up—Dina had told her that. Jesse had said it too. Still, something about kissing her… something about how it happened… it made Ellie feel like she’d crossed into a space she wasn’t sure she had permission to be in.

She cleared her throat, her voice a little tentative. “Hey, so… we’re okay, right?”

Jesse looked over, blinking like the question surprised him. “You and me?”

Ellie nodded. “Yeah.”

He gave a small, casual shrug. “Yeah, of course. Dina and I are done. We’ve been done for a while now.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I just didn’t want you to think… I don’t know.”

He stopped walking for a second, standing still on the snowy sidewalk. “Ellie,” he said, meeting her eyes. “We’re cool. Promise.”

She studied him for a second longer, just to be sure. Then she nodded, a quiet breath leaving her lips. “Thanks.”

He smiled, then jerked his head toward the diner. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

They crossed the last few feet and stepped up onto the porch of the building. The heavy wood door creaked slightly as Jesse pushed it open, the warmth inside instantly washing over them like a blanket.

The diner was old, clearly repurposed from a time before the world collapsed, but it had a lived-in charm to it. Scuffed checkerboard tile covered the floor, dulled with age but still holding onto its color beneath the wear of boots and years. The walls were lined with old booths—half of them mismatched, the other half patched with hand-stitched cushions or salvaged fabric. A few tables were pushed near the front windows, their tabletops scratched and etched with initials and crude drawings.

The smell hit Ellie first—bacon, coffee, and something faintly sweet like cornbread or honey. It was almost enough to make her forget she was here to face Maria.

The place was already busy with early morning regulars: a pair of patrolmen sipping black coffee in silence, a teenage girl serving eggs from a steaming skillet behind the counter, and an older man reading a dog-eared book by the window. Conversations hummed softly around them, but the moment Ellie stepped inside, she felt a few glances drift her way—nothing hostile, just… curious.

Maria’s voice cut clean through the low hum of the diner.

“Ellie.”

Ellie looked up, her stomach sinking as she spotted Maria standing near the counter by the kitchen window. The light overhead caught the silver strands in the woman’s blonde hair, making them glint. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp—firm. She gave a small tilt of her head and gestured with her hand, beckoning Ellie over.

Ellie let out a long, reluctant sigh.

“Good luck,” Jesse muttered behind her.

Ellie shot him a narrow look and shoved him lightly in the ribs, which only made him grin. She stuffed her hands deep into her jacket pockets and started walking, weaving between crowded tables and the occasional sideways glance. Every step felt slower than the last.

Maria stood with her arms crossed now, one foot tapping lightly against the tile floor as Ellie approached.

“Come here,” Maria said, voice low but insistent. “Seth has something he wants to say.”

Ellie’s face tightened. Her jaw set. “I don’t care what that bigot has got to say.”

Maria’s shoulders rose and fell in a long breath, patience barely holding. “Just do this for me,” she said, softer this time. “Please.”

That hit differently—Maria didn’t beg. Didn’t plead. And she wasn’t asking for the sake of Seth. She was asking for the town. For the fragile balance they all depended on.

Ellie didn’t answer, but she didn’t walk away either.

Maria seemed to take that as enough. She turned her head slightly and called out, “Seth.”

Ellie instinctively clenched her fists in her pockets, bracing herself.

From a table tucked near the back, Seth stood slowly, almost sheepishly. The man looked nothing like the one from last night—gone was the fire and spit, the pointed rage. Now, he looked small. Older. Like someone who’d been chewed out in more ways than one. He walked with a stiff gait, hands awkwardly clasped in front of him. His head was bowed slightly, eyes avoiding contact.

Ellie watched him with a cold, unreadable expression. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Seth came to a stop a few feet away, his shoulders hunched like he was expecting to be hit. His voice was low, gravelly.

“I, uh… I just wanted to say… I was outta line last night.”

Ellie didn’t respond. Her stare didn’t waver.

He cleared his throat and glanced at Maria, who gave him a look that clearly said keep going.

“I shouldn’t’ve said what I said. It was… wrong.” His lips pressed together in an awkward line. “I apologize.”

The silence that followed stretched too long.

Ellie slowly raised an eyebrow. “That it?”

Seth blinked. “I—”

Maria cut in, her voice cool but decisive. “Ellie.”

Ellie looked at her, jaw still tight, then exhaled through her nose. “Fine,” she muttered. “Thanks for the apology.”

It came out flat. Distant. But it was the most she could give, and Maria seemed to understand that.

Seth gave a tight nod, already turning back toward his table. He moved quickly, like someone relieved to escape a fire he started himself.

Maria turned to Ellie, her voice quiet now. “That wasn’t for him. That was for you.”

Ellie met her gaze, her expression softening just slightly. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“I know,” Maria said. “But it matters.”

Ellie looked away, eyes scanning the floor for a moment before she nodded once, just barely. Then she muttered, “Can I go now?”

Maria sighed through her nose, the tension in her jaw relaxing as she gave a small nod. “Yeah,” she said. “Be safe out there.”

Ellie gave a faint shrug. “I will,” she muttered, already turning to leave.

She moved through the diner without looking back, Jesse falling into step behind her with an easy rhythm, like they’d done this walk a hundred times. The bell over the door jingled as it swung open, the cold morning air rushing in to greet them as they stepped back out into the snow-covered street.

The wind had picked up again, tugging at Ellie’s jacket and scattering powdered flakes from the rooftops. She pulled her collar up, her breath puffing out in thin white clouds as her boots crunched over the icy sidewalk.

“So,” Jesse asked after a moment, glancing at her with that familiar half-smirk, “how was it?”

Ellie huffed, not breaking stride. “I should’ve shot Seth last night.”

Jesse barked a short laugh, one hand slipping into his coat pocket. “Honestly? I would’ve supported that. Fully. Just… not sure the town council would’ve felt the same way.”

Ellie scoffed. “Yeah, probably not. But bigots like him shouldn’t even be allowed in. This place is supposed to be better.”

“Agreed,” Jesse said, tone more serious now. “But you know how it is. Some folks came from the old world with a lot of… weird shit in their heads. Bias. Hate. Like it’s hardwired or something.”

Ellie kicked at a half-buried rock as they walked. “Doesn’t mean we have to let it slide.”

“No,” Jesse said. “But we gotta pick our battles. Jackson’s got its cracks, but it’s still safer than most places. You start exiling every asshole, the town’s gonna get real small, real fast.”

Ellie was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed as she stared ahead. The snow was falling again—light, slow—and it blurred the edges of the town. She watched a pair of kids run past on the opposite side of the street, laughing, their cheeks red from the cold. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, chasing after them.

“Yeah,” she said eventually. “Still doesn’t feel right.”

“No,” Jesse replied. “But neither did last night. You did the right thing, showing up today. Even if it sucked.”

Ellie didn’t say anything, but her jaw unclenched a little.

Ellie didn’t say anything, but her jaw unclenched a little. The cold air scraped against her cheeks as she exhaled slowly, watching the mist of her breath drift and dissolve in front of her.

A sudden crackle of static from Jesse’s walkie made both of them stop in their tracks. He unclipped it from his belt and brought it to his mouth. “Yeah?”

Maria’s voice came through, a little fuzzy but clear enough. “Almost forgot—Jesse, I need you to head to the northwest lookout. Joel and Tommy have been out there since early. Time to give them a break.”

Jesse raised his brows and muttered a quiet “Great,” before clicking the talk button. “Got it.”

Maria kept going. “Ellie? You and Dina take the creek trails today. You know the path.”

Ellie glanced over at Jesse, then pressed the button on the walkie Jesse held out for her. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Be safe, both of you,” Maria added, voice a bit softer now.

“Thanks,” Jesse said before clipping the device back onto his belt. He gave Ellie a sidelong look as they resumed walking.

“She’s done the creek trail a dozen times,” he said, gesturing toward the path ahead. “You’ll be in good hands.”

Ellie gave a faint nod, but she felt that familiar flutter in her chest at the mention of Dina. The kind that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with anticipation. Just the idea of being alone with her again—out on patrol, no distractions—sent a little heat through her despite the chill in the air.

They walked a few more paces in silence, the snow muffling their steps, until the sound of laughter made them slow down again. Up ahead, a group of children were chasing each other around the small playground near the center of town, snowballs flying in chaotic arcs across the clearing.

Ellie smiled slightly at the sight—a rare kind of peace, kids just being kids.

Behind one of the half-buried jungle gyms, a familiar figure crouched low, laughing as she ducked behind a metal wall to dodge a flying snowball. Her dark curls peeked out from under a beanie, her cheeks flushed from the cold and the thrill of play.

Dina.

Jesse spotted her too and raised a hand. “Yo, Dina! We gotta go!”

Dina peeked up from behind the structure and grinned, waving him off. “One sec!”

Jesse huffed, rolling his eyes as he turned to Ellie with a teasing smirk. “Go on. Get your girlfriend.”

Ellie blinked. “She’s not—” she started, but her words tripped over themselves. Her face flushed deep red, and she gave Jesse a solid shove to the shoulder.

He laughed, easily dodging the brunt of it. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

“Asshole,” Ellie muttered, but her lips twitched with a hint of a smile.

As Jesse turned and walked toward the stables, Ellie lingered, watching Dina for a second longer. The way her laughter lit up the space around her. The way her eyes crinkled with joy. Something about that moment felt warm—like sunlight piercing through the gray of winter.

Taking a breath, Ellie squared her shoulders and made her way toward the playground, her boots crunching softly in the packed snow. She shoved her hands deep into her jacket pockets, glancing down once or twice as she approached the edge of the play area.

Dina was still crouched behind a low wooden barrier, laughing as the kids launched snowballs in her direction with wild, giggly abandon. Her dark curls were dusted with snow, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold and exertion.

Ellie hovered awkwardly near the fence, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Hey, Dina!” she called, trying not to let the slight waver in her voice betray her nerves. “Can I talk to you?”

Dina turned her head, her eyes catching Ellie’s. For a second, her smile softened. She turned back toward the kids. “Hey, guys? I’m tapping out!”

“What?” one of the kids whined. “How long?!”

“Forever!” Dina called dramatically over her shoulder, grinning as she brushed snow off her sleeves and made her way toward Ellie.

Ellie tried to keep her face neutral, but her fingers curled tightly in her pockets. When Dina reached her, she leaned casually against the fence, still catching her breath from the playfight.

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle, warm.

Ellie gave a faint, awkward smile, her eyes flicking up before dropping again. “Hey.” Her hand instinctively went to the back of her neck. “Um… I just wanted to say sorry. For running off last night.”

Dina’s expression shifted, a small furrow forming between her brows. “Oh, that’s—it’s okay,” she said, a little quick, as if she’d been waiting to say it. “I totally get it. I just… I felt bad.”

Ellie’s brow creased. “Why?”

Dina let out a breath, pulling off one of her gloves and fiddling with the hem. “’Cause I started the whole thing,” she admitted quietly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. Not like that. Not in front of all those people—”

Ellie shook her head before she could finish. “You were drunk. It’s fine,” she said, trying to sound casual even though something in her chest ached.

Dina nodded slightly, but her voice stayed soft. “Well, I wasn’t that drunk… but still. I just… I don’t want you to think—”

“No, I’m not reading into it or anything,” Ellie cut in, fast. Her voice was firmer than she meant it to be. Her eyes flicked up to meet Dina’s, then quickly away again. Her jaw clenched, trying not to betray the small tremor she felt. It was a one-time thing. Dina was drunk. The kiss meant nothing. She told herself that. Over and over.

Dina, however, let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in that way she did when she wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed. “You know what I love about you?” she said, her voice dipping into something more fond, teasing but sincere.

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“How you always let me finish my sentences,” Dina said, smiling wide now.

Ellie opened her mouth, then closed it again, letting out an awkward, breathy laugh. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck again. “I’m real considerate like that.”

They stood there for a beat, eyes meeting, a quiet current passing between them—unspoken things suspended in the cold winter air. Ellie’s breath misted between them, her heart tapping a little faster than it had a moment ago. Dina’s smile had softened, like she wanted to say something else—but before either of them could speak again—

SMACK!

A snowball slammed into Ellie’s shoulder, scattering frozen powder across her jacket.

“OW—what the hell?!” Ellie yelled, recoiling as she instinctively grabbed her arm.

Dina whipped around, eyebrows raised. “What the fuck?!”

Ellie glared in the direction it had come from, spotting a grinning kid standing with his arms defiantly crossed. “I wasn’t even playing!” she called out, exasperated.

“You looked like a chicken!” the boy shouted back smugly.

Ellie gaped, jaw dropping slightly in disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now?” she said, turning toward Dina. “I hate that kid.”

Dina nodded solemnly, arms crossed as she eyed the pint-sized assailant. “Wanna fuck them up?” she mumbled under her breath, like it was a secret conspiracy.

Ellie blinked at her. She glanced down the path that led toward the stables—toward responsibility, adulting, patrols—and then back at the field of screaming kids and smug little snowball snipers.

Her lips curled into a grin.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She didn’t wait—Ellie swung one leg over the fence and hopped down into the snow, boots crunching as she landed in a crouch like she was infiltrating enemy lines. Dina laughed behind her, that rich, melodic laugh that always hit Ellie right in the chest.

“Operation: Snow Justice is a go,” Dina whispered dramatically.

The kids barely had time to react before a hailstorm of snowballs began to fly back at them, led by two grinning adults with questionable maturity and excellent aim. Laughter rang out across the frozen playground, carried on the cold wind, and for the first time in what felt like days, Ellie felt the heaviness lift—if only for a little while.

---

The path from the playground to the stables was crusted with snow, the sun peeking low over the rooftops, casting a soft orange glow across Jackson. Ellie and Dina walked side by side, their cheeks still pink from laughter and the cold, boots crunching over the packed trail. They brushed snow from their jackets and gloves, shaking out their sleeves and swiping damp hair from their faces.

Ellie huffed out a warm breath into the cold air. “Pretty sure I’ve got snow in places snow should never be.”

Dina smirked beside her, thumping her boots against a post as they approached the stables. “That’s the price of vengeance.”

Waiting for them under the awning, Jesse leaned against the stable gate, two rifles resting casually in his arms. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of them and smirked. “Well, nice of you two to join the working class.”

Ellie rolled her eyes as she reached for one of the rifles. “We were busy kicking ass.”

“Tiny ass,” Dina added, taking the other rifle.

“Still counts,” Ellie muttered with a smirk, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

Just then, the stable doors creaked open and one of the workers led out the horses, their breath steaming in the cold air. Shimmer was the first out—her soft brown coat dusted with bits of straw, ears flicking forward at the sound of Ellie’s voice.

“There’s my girl,” Ellie murmured with a grin, stepping forward to rub her gloved hand along Shimmer’s neck.

The horse responded with a gentle nudge to her shoulder, warm and familiar. Ellie’s grin softened into something fonder as she gave Shimmer a few reassuring pats before hoisting herself up into the saddle with practiced ease.

Next came Dina’s horse—a darker chestnut named Copper—who tossed his head a little as Dina approached.

“Easy, handsome,” she murmured, grabbing the reins and climbing up smoothly.

The two of them rode side by side toward the gate, snow crunching under hooves as they neared where Jesse now stood with a small group of other scouts. The town gates loomed ahead, tall and iron, dusted with ice and flanked by watchtowers.

Jesse turned to face them, his expression sharpening a bit as he fell into the rhythm of command. He raised a hand and called out to the gate operators above.

“Open it up!”

The heavy mechanisms groaned to life, gears turning and chains rattling as the main gate slowly creaked open, revealing the vast, snow-blanketed wilderness beyond.

Jesse turned back to the group, eyes scanning each face—Ellie, Dina, two other patrol members to his left. “Settle down, children,” he said, his voice louder now, but still laced with that familiar, dry humor. “All right. You all know the drill. Run your routes. Mark your logbooks. Clear any infected you see.”

He paused for effect, eyes narrowing slightly.

“If you run into anything you can’t handle, you come back. Be smart about it.”

His gaze lingered just a second longer on Ellie and Dina. “All right. Get goin’.”

With a shared nod, Ellie gently tapped her heels to Shimmer’s sides, guiding her through the gate. Dina followed close behind, Copper falling in step beside them. The town slowly faded behind them as they ventured into the trees—snow falling lightly now, silent and steady, the familiar weight of their rifles across their backs and the quiet thrill of routine settling in.

Out here, the world was quieter. Dangerous, sure—but honest in its own way.

Ellie took a deep breath of frozen air and glanced sideways at Dina, who met her look with a faint smile. The trail stretched out ahead of them, open and waiting.

The gate creaked closed behind them with a low groan, leaving behind the comfort of Jackson’s walls for the still quiet of the open world. Dina took the lead, guiding Copper confidently down the winding path that led to the creek trail. Ellie followed close behind on Shimmer, the horses’ hooves crunching rhythmically through the fresh layer of snow.

 

The trail was beautiful in the soft winter morning light. Trees stood tall and bare, their branches dusted in white, the canopy above thin enough to let sunlight filter through in golden shafts. The snow blanketed everything—logs, rocks, the narrow path—muting sound and making each step feel calm, almost reverent. The creek wound alongside them, its surface partially frozen save for the narrow ribbon of water that continued to flow steadily. The current gurgled quietly, catching sunlight in little flashes as it ran beside them.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Ellie glanced around at the peaceful scenery, her breath visible in the cold air. Then, her voice broke the quiet.

“Do you… do you miss being with him?”

Dina glanced back over her shoulder. “With Jesse?” She gave a small shrug and turned her eyes forward again. “No.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “You guys were together for so long.”

Dina’s voice was thoughtful, not defensive. “Yeah. Jesse’s great. I love his parents—they’re practically my second family. But we were just… on autopilot. You know? Comfortable. Safe. But it wasn’t really right anymore.”

Ellie was quiet for a beat, digesting that. Her voice softened. “Hey… how come we never talked about this stuff before?”

Dina’s shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know. Maybe it didn’t feel like… we were supposed to?” She looked over at Ellie. “You never really talked to me about Cat.”

Ellie grimaced a little, looking away toward the trees. “Yeah, well… there’s not much to talk about.”

Dina raised a skeptical brow. “Yeow. That’s… cold.”

“I just…” Ellie hesitated, then glanced over at her. “I kinda got the impression you didn’t like her.”

Dina blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t care about her one way or the other.”

Ellie tilted her head, smiling faintly. “Okay…”

Dina smirked, then added, “She’s a talented artist. I’ve actually grown to like that tattoo of yours.”

Ellie laughed. “Wow. That’s so big of you.”

Dina looked at her from beneath her hood, a teasing glint in her eye. “And… I don’t think she was right for you.”

Ellie leaned back in her saddle with mock surprise. “Interesting.”

Dina rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Okay!” Ellie raised her hands in surrender, grinning.

The trees continued to thin out a little as they followed the trail deeper, the sound of the creek growing louder and more playful beside them. A few birds darted overhead, their wings flapping softly through the cold. The air between them, once thick with awkwardness, now felt a little lighter—like a window had been cracked open, just enough.

The sun had climbed higher by the time they reached the old broadcast tower, its rusted frame rising like a skeleton against the pale blue sky. The fencing that once surrounded the perimeter had long since collapsed, leaving only remnants of barbed wire poking through the snow. Vines and frost clung to the brick foundation, and a few birds scattered from the roof as the horses approached.

Dina took the lead, her breath curling in the cold as she swung off Copper and tied the reins to a nearby post. “Come on, tie Shimmer up here,” she said over her shoulder.

Ellie dismounted, brushing snow from her sleeves as she guided Shimmer up beside Dina’s horse. She eyed the structure suspiciously, the metal groaning quietly in the wind.

Dina gave her a sly smile. “I want to show you something amazing.”

Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What, you gonna point at your face?”

Dina snorted. “Please. Nothing is that amazing.” She turned, already making her way toward a set of stairs built into the side of the structure. “C’mon.”

With a reluctant shake of her head, Ellie followed.

They climbed the narrow, rusting staircase that spiraled along the outer wall, their boots clanging against metal, the wind tugging at their jackets. As they neared the top, Dina paused at a door and pushed it open with a creak, revealing a small room with shattered windows and peeling paint. Then she walked through it and out onto a balcony beyond.

Ellie stepped up beside her—and froze.

The view stretched for miles. Snow-covered pine trees blanketed the rolling land below, fading into jagged, towering mountains in the distance. Their peaks were streaked with ice and shadow, standing tall and still against a sky painted in pale blues and soft golds. Wisps of cloud clung to the summits like they were trying to hold on. The creek they’d followed shimmered faintly far below, winding like a silver thread through the forest.

Ellie took a quiet breath, her voice low. “It’s beautiful.”

Dina didn’t answer right away. She leaned on the railing, her gaze fixed on Ellie instead of the mountains. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It sure is.”

Ellie turned her head, catching Dina’s look. It was soft—unfiltered. Something flickered in Ellie’s chest.

But before she could linger on it, she cleared her throat and shifted back. “So… where do we sign in?”

Dina blinked, then laughed quietly, brushing hair from her face. “I’ll take care of it,” she said, waving a hand and stepping back inside. “Be right back.”

Ellie stayed by the railing, her gloved hands gripping the cold metal. She stared out at the mountains again, but her thoughts had already drifted.

The way Dina had looked at her—like she meant something.

Ellie’s heart gave a stubborn thump in her chest, but she shook it off, muttering under her breath, “It’s nothing. Just being normal. Totally normal.”

Still, even as she tried to push it away, the warmth of Dina’s gaze lingered—like sunlight in the snow.

It didn’t take long before Dina’s voice echoed from inside the tower. “Ellie! Got it logged!”

Ellie turned from the railing, the breeze catching the ends of her hair. She leaned back to glance through the doorway as Dina appeared again, tugging her hood up against the cold. “Where to next?” Ellie asked, brushing her glove down the railing one last time.

Dina joined her on the balcony, eyes squinting slightly as she raised a gloved hand and pointed toward the distant hills. “See those buildings down there? That little cluster tucked against the ridge?”

Ellie followed her line of sight. Past the winding creek and over the rise, nestled in the soft sweep of hills, a few old structures stood half-sunken in snow. Their roofs were mostly caved in, windows broken, the weather having worn them down to crooked silhouettes.

“That’s the last stop on the trail,” Dina said.

Ellie gave a short nod. “All right. Let’s go freeze our asses off.”

Dina chuckled and bumped her shoulder gently before turning back inside. “Come on then, cowgirl.”

They retraced their steps down the narrow tower stairs, metal groaning under their weight, the wind whistling against the slats. Back at ground level, the horses greeted them with soft huffs of breath, puffs of steam rising in the cold air.

Ellie gave Shimmer a gentle pat along the neck, her gloved hand brushing snow from the saddle before climbing up. “Good girl,” she murmured.

Dina mounted her own horse with practiced ease, adjusting the strap on her rifle before glancing over to Ellie. “Ready?”

Ellie clicked her tongue to Shimmer and gave a slight nod. “Lead the way.”

They set off again, hooves crunching over the snowy trail. The narrow path followed the slow curve of the creek, its banks glittering with frost. The water bubbled quietly beneath a thin layer of ice, flowing like a silver ribbon through the white. Tall evergreens lined the route, their snow-laden branches drooping under the weight of the morning storm, casting long blue shadows on the ground.

The air was crisp and quiet, broken only by the occasional whinny from one of the horses or the soft clink of tack and gear. A pair of crows burst from the trees ahead, startling the horses slightly, but Dina held the pace steady, glancing back with a grin.

“You okay back there?” she called.

Ellie shifted in the saddle, squinting up at the clouds beginning to thicken in the sky. “Still thawing out my face, but yeah.”

Dina glanced over her shoulder at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “That’s ‘cause you didn’t duck fast enough during out snowball fight.”

“I was distracted,” Ellie muttered.

“Oh? By what?” Dina teased.

Ellie ignored the bait, urging Shimmer forward as the creek curved, revealing the outskirts of the decayed town ahead. Crumbling houses and skeletal rooftops poked through the snow like jagged teeth.

They rode side by side for a few quiet moments before Dina broke the silence. “Hey… how’s Joel? After last night.”

Ellie let out a slow breath, her gloved hands tightening on the reins. “He’s… fine. Just doing the brooding old man thing, y’know.”

Dina gave a small chuckle. “Classic.”

“We talked,” Ellie added after a beat. “Kind of. I mean, not a lot, but it was good. Better than it’s been in a while.”

“That’s good,” Dina said, her voice soft with genuine warmth.

They rode side by side, the gentle rhythm of their horses’ hooves crunching through the snow-covered trail filling the silence between them. A breeze drifted in from the mountains, stirring loose flakes from the branches above, and Dina tilted her head toward Ellie with a small smile.

“So,” she said casually, her tone laced with something lighter, playful. “You planning on inviting anyone else to this black-and-white cowboy film fest, or is this a very exclusive Joel-and-Ellie bonding event?”

Ellie shrugged. “Dunno. He doesn’t really like people talking during his movies.”

Dina’s brow lifted. “You think I talk during movies?”

Ellie looked at her, deadpan. “I know you do.”

Dina let out a soft laugh. “Okay, fair. But I make good commentary. Witty, insightful, occasionally emotional.”

Ellie smirked but kept her eyes ahead. “That sounds… distracting.”

“I can be very quiet,” Dina offered, her voice dipping slightly.

Ellie blinked, brow furrowed. “Didn’t you just say you do running commentary?”

Dina let out a slow breath through her nose, smiling to herself. “You’re impossible.”

“What?” Ellie looked over, brows knit. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing,” Dina said with a shake of her head, biting back a grin. “It’s just… charming. How completely unaware you are.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you messing with me?”

“Only a little,” Dina teased, kicking snow off a low branch as they passed. “But mostly just… appreciating the company.”

Ellie’s face warmed despite the cold, and she gave a half-laugh, more out of confusion than anything. “You’re being weird,” she muttered, glancing away as she adjusted her grip on the reins.

Dina didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned forward in her saddle slightly, squinting at the path ahead before stealing another glance at Ellie. “Weird good or weird bad?”

Ellie shrugged. “Weird weird.”

Dina chuckled, shaking her head in amusement as she clicked her tongue and gently urged her horse onward. “Weird weird,” she repeated under her breath with a grin, clearly entertained.

They continued down the narrowing trail, hooves crunching softly in the packed snow. The pine trees pressed in on either side, their dark needles heavy with white. A hush fell over the world, the kind that only came with fresh snowfall.

A few flakes drifted lazily down from the overcast sky, catching the light like flecks of silver.

Dina tilted her head up, blinking as a snowflake landed on her lashes. “Huh,” she murmured, lifting her hand to catch one on her glove. “First real flurry of the week.”

Ellie looked up too, watching the flakes start to swirl. “Looks nice,” she said, her voice a little softer now.

“Yeah,” Dina agreed. “It’s like… peaceful. The kind of snow that makes you wanna crawl into a blanket fort and drink cocoa.”

Ellie snorted. “You sound like an old woman.”

“Excuse you, that’s cozy energy. There’s a difference.”

But the playful tone didn’t last long. Within a few minutes, the snow picked up—falling thicker, faster. The wind followed not far behind, sliding in sharp across their path and sending spirals of white dancing through the air. It howled faintly through the trees, rattling the higher branches and cutting through the layers of their jackets.

Ellie pulled her collar up higher against her neck and leaned slightly into the gusts. “Okay, that turned fast.”

The wind answered with a sharper howl, pushing against them with more force now. Snow was no longer drifting—it was driving sideways, stinging against their cheeks and blurring the trail ahead until it was nearly invisible. Trees vanished into the growing whiteout. The familiar creek trail was gone, replaced with a dense curtain of snow that swallowed everything more than ten feet ahead.

Dina sat up straighter in her saddle, her voice raised against the storm. “Ellie! Stay close!”

Ellie tightened her grip on Shimmer’s reins and urged her horse forward, steering her closer to Dina, who was already guiding her own mount off the trail toward a shape barely visible in the swirling storm. As they approached, the vague outlines of buildings began to take form—weather-worn rooftops and crumbling facades, half-buried in snow drifts. An old abandoned town, hidden beneath the white.

“This way!” Dina shouted over her shoulder, veering toward one of the more intact structures—a squat, rectangular building with faded posters in the windows and a rusted metal awning partially collapsed. She dismounted quickly, yanking open a pair of warped, snow-crusted doors wide enough for the horses to get through. The hinges screamed in protest.

“Come on, come on!” she called.

Ellie followed her in, guiding Shimmer inside with soft murmurs and a firm hand. The air inside was still frigid, but at least the wind was gone. As soon as the horses were through, Dina slammed the doors shut behind them, sealing out the roar of the storm with a solid thud.

“That storm came outta nowhere,” she breathed, brushing snow from her shoulders and tugging her hood back. Her cheeks were red, her breath fogging the air.

“Tell me about it,” Ellie muttered, hopping down from Shimmer with a small grunt. She ran a gloved hand down the mare’s neck, soothing her. “You good, girl?”

Shimmer snorted softly and stamped a hoof, clearly uneasy but not panicked.

“She’ll be fine,” Dina said, already unstrapping her saddlebag. “Let’s just let ‘em rest here a bit.”

They both took a moment to look around the space. The building was dark, lit only by the muted, gray light filtering through grime-covered windows. Rows of low shelves stood like sentinels between them and the far wall, their contents long since covered in dust.

And then Ellie noticed the old signs above the aisles—faded block letters still clinging to their metal brackets:

ACTION. ROMANCE. SCI-FI. HORROR. COMEDY.

Her brow lifted as she walked toward one of the shelves, brushing off a thick layer of dust with her sleeve. A familiar VHS case poked out at her—“Back to the Future.”

“No way,” she muttered. “It’s a video store.”

Dina joined her, her face lighting up with childlike amusement. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

The place looked like it had been frozen in time. Posters for old movies lined the walls, some peeling at the edges. Cardboard cutouts of long-forgotten blockbusters sagged against shelves. Tapes sat abandoned in crooked rows, a few scattered on the floor.

“Think this place has popcorn?” Ellie joked under her breath, brushing snow from her jacket.

Dina grinned, already wandering down an aisle. “Only if you’re brave enough to eat twenty-year-old kernels.”

Ellie chuckled and stepped deeper into the quiet gloom of the store, her boots crunching faintly against the frost-covered floor. She paused near a shelf half-collapsed under a mountain of tapes and glanced around.

“You ever been in here before?” she asked, voice low as if not to disturb the strange peace of the place.

Dina shook her head, running her gloved fingers along a dusty display for Jurassic Park. “No. We never stopped here during scouting. It’s too close to the far end of the trail. Most people just pass it by.”

Ellie hummed thoughtfully, her eyes drifting over the shadowed corners and crumbling posters. “Feels like a time capsule.”

They continued moving toward the back of the store, where the shelving grew sparser and the dust thicker. There, nestled behind a curtain made from old tarp and strung-together blankets, was a makeshift living area—worn sleeping bag, crates stacked as tables, and a couple of mismatched pillows. A lantern sat cold and unlit atop an overturned milk crate, surrounded by yellowing notebooks and cracked mugs.

“Whoa,” Ellie murmured, crouching beside the bedroll. Her fingers brushed against something metallic hidden beneath the edge of an old flannel blanket. She pulled it free—a small, scratched Firefly pendant. The cord was frayed, the metal dulled with age, but the engraved name was still visible.

Eugene Linden.

Ellie’s brow furrowed. “Eugene was here.”

Dina, crouched nearby thumbing through a moldy journal, glanced over. “That makes sense. He used to take this trail all the time before he passed.”

Ellie held the pendant between her fingers, running her thumb over the name. “I didn’t know he was a Firefly.”

Dina set the journal down gently. “He told me a while ago. That’s how he and Tommy met. Said they both left after an attack on a QZ went sideways. Too many innocent people caught in the crossfire.”

“Damn,” Ellie muttered, voice softer now, thoughtful. “Eugene… he always seemed like just the guy who fixed radios and built garden lights.”

Dina nodded. “He was more than that. I think he carried a lot of shit no one really knew about.”

Silence lingered for a moment as they took in the quiet remnants of the life Eugene had once carved out here—solitary, secretive, but unmistakably human.

Then Dina’s eyes caught on something in the far corner. An old generator sat half-buried beneath a pile of tarp and broken shelving. Her brow knit. “Huh. Let’s see if this thing still has life.”

She moved to it and gave the starter cord a solid yank. The engine coughed once, twice, then roared to life with a low rumble. The sound filled the store like a heartbeat awakening after a long sleep.

But the lights stayed off.

Dina frowned and gave the machine a swift kick with the heel of her boot. “Piece of shit.”

Ellie stood, brushing her hands off on her jeans—then stopped.

A faint glow was seeping from beneath one of the bookcases along the far wall. A sliver of golden light cutting through the cracks in the floor.

She narrowed her eyes. “Hang on…”

Dina turned. “What is it?”

Ellie approached slowly, crouching near the bookcase. “There’s light coming from under here. Might be a basement.”

They both exchanged a look—half curiosity, half wariness.

“Should we check it out?” Dina asked, already moving to one side of the shelf.

Ellie’s lips twitched. “We’ve come this far.”

Together, she and Dina stepped closer to the heavy bookcase. Their boots scraped against the floor as they braced themselves on either side and pushed. The shelf groaned under its own weight, the wood protesting with sharp creaks before slowly inching aside. As it shifted, more of that strange glow spilled into the room, casting soft, golden edges against the dust-filled air.

Behind the shelf, a narrow staircase revealed itself, descending steeply into shadow.

Ellie leaned over slightly to peer into the dark. “Well, that’s not ominous.”

Dina gave her a look. “Ladies first, right?”

Ellie shrugged, already pulling her pistol from its holster. “Sure. If I die, you can say you warned me.”

But just as she stepped forward, Dina caught her arm, fingers tightening slightly over Ellie’s jacket sleeve.

“Hey,” she said, her voice half-joking but laced with real concern. “Be careful, all right? I really don’t want to shoot you in the face.”

Ellie cracked a crooked grin. “That’s… so sweet of you.”

Dina smirked, releasing her arm. “I try.”

Ellie took a breath and descended the stairs, each step creaking beneath her weight. The closer they got to the bottom, the stronger the faint scent of something earthy and unmistakable became. She squinted ahead, heart thumping slightly, gun raised—until she reached the final step and pushed open the rusting metal door at the bottom.

What lay beyond made her jaw drop.

Rows of long tables stretched across the room, under industrial-style grow lights that buzzed faintly with residual power from the generator. And on those tables—weed. Rows and rows of weed plants, most dried up and dead from months, maybe years, without care, but some still clinging faintly to green, almost like ghosts of their former lushness. Busted hydroponics equipment lined the walls. A dusty fan slowly spun from the ceiling. Shelves held old jars, grow manuals, and baggies, as if whoever ran this place had just stepped out for a smoke and never came back.

“Holy shit…” Ellie muttered, holstering her gun as she stepped inside, awe creeping into her voice.

Dina appeared beside her, equally wide-eyed, her gaze sweeping the room. “Jesus.”

The two stood there for a moment, just taking it all in.

“I mean,” Dina started, voice breaking the silence, “I kinda thought this was gonna be some weird sex den or something.”

Ellie turned to stare at her. “A sex den?”

Dina shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, you know. Hidden door. Sketchy basement. Mystery lights. Come on, tell me your brain didn’t go there for like… a second?”

Ellie blinked at her. “No? Literally not at all.”

“Well,” Dina said, stepping further into the room, “this is way better.”

Ellie shook her head, a dry laugh slipping out. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” Dina replied, already poking around an old stash cabinet. “But now we know what Eugene was really doing out here.”

Ellie walked over to one of the dried plants and ran her fingers through the brittle leaves. “He was a goddamn legend.”

Dina glanced back at her with a grin. “Think any of this is still smokeable?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Only one way to find out.”

They ventured deeper into the bunker-like room, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust carpeting the floor. The air was warmer here, likely insulated from the storm outside, and filled with the lingering scent of dried cannabis and old electronics. Ellie peeled off her heavy winter jacket, shaking loose some snow, and tossed it over the arm of a nearby worn-out chair. Dina followed suit, placing her own coat and backpack beside Ellie’s, the pair of them finally able to relax after the brutal weather.

The soft hum of the generator buzzed faintly in the background as they explored. Nestled in the far corner of the space, past rows of dry plants and scattered gardening tools, was a cozy setup: a battered but inviting couch draped with a thick blanket, its cushions slightly sunken from years of use. In front of it sat a small, dusty television hooked up to a VCR, and next to it, a crate stacked with tapes—each labeled in Eugene’s loopy handwriting.

“Well,” Ellie said, nodding toward the couch. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a way to kill time.”

Dina followed her gaze and hummed approvingly, kneeling down to sift through the tape collection. “Let’s see what kind of cinematic treasures Eugene left behind.”

Ellie flopped down onto the couch with a sigh, watching as Dina’s fingers flipped through the tapes.

Dina pulled one out with a smirk, holding it up. “What about… Dong of the Wolf?”

Ellie squinted at her. “That’s not a real movie.”

“Oh, it’s real,” Dina said, fighting back laughter. She plucked another from the box. “Or we could go with… Smash Brandi’s Cooch.”

Ellie sat up straighter, her face contorting in disbelief. “Wait. Is that—?”

Dina nodded solemnly. “Yup. Porn.”

Ellie blinked, then glanced at the stack of tapes like she was trying to solve a mystery. “Man, Eugene had… interesting taste.”

“That’s one word for it,” Dina muttered, still grinning as she dropped both tapes back into the crate. “He had a whole double life down here.”

Ellie leaned back, one arm slung over the couch. “Wonder what other secrets he had stashed away.”

Dina, still poking around the cluttered table nearby, gave a short laugh. “Well… he had this.” She held up a thick mason jar filled with a handful of expertly rolled blunts. The glass caught the overhead grow light, casting little prismatic flecks against the wall.

Ellie’s eyebrows lifted, intrigued. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Dina walked over and handed it to her, an amused glint in her eyes. “Open it.”

Ellie grinned, gripping the jar confidently as she twisted the lid. “Easy.”

But the lid didn’t budge. She frowned and tried again, this time with both hands, her knuckles going white from the strain. “What the hell…?”

Dina laughed, arms crossing as she watched Ellie struggle. “Give it back before you pop a vein.”

“This thing is glued shut,” Ellie muttered, scowling as she reluctantly handed it over.

Dina gave it a shot herself—twist, twist. Her smirk slowly faded into irritation. “Okay, this is tight.”

“Maybe there’s, like, a tool or something we—”

Before Ellie could finish her sentence, Dina raised the jar and, without a moment’s hesitation, slammed it down on the concrete floor. The glass exploded with a sharp crack, shards scattering across the room.

Ellie’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the mess. “Jesus! That’s one way to do it!”

Dina crouched, plucked one of the blunts from the wreckage like it was a gold nugget, and gave a casual shrug. “Glass is temporary. Weed is forever.”

Ellie blinked, then laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

Dina settled onto the couch beside her, the blunt between her fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Not insane. Efficient.” She flicked her lighter once—twice—and finally got a flame, lighting the end with a smooth drag. She exhaled slowly, the smell of skunk and pine wafting through the bunker as she leaned back.

Dina leaned back, letting out another long puff of smoke, the haze curling softly around her face. Her eyes were half-lidded, thoughtful. Then, without a word, she held the blunt out toward Ellie.

Ellie took it between her fingers, brought it to her lips, and inhaled. It hit a little harsh—her throat tightened—but she didn’t cough. She let the smoke sit a moment before exhaling slow, her eyes flicking toward Dina in the quiet.

Dina didn’t look away. In fact, she was staring—studying Ellie in that way that always made her feel slightly unmoored. There was something different in Dina’s expression now, softened by the warmth of the room and the slow, creeping buzz. She scooted a little closer on the couch, her thigh brushing Ellie’s lightly.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, voice low but steady.

Ellie glanced sideways, masking her nerves with another quick drag before handing the blunt back. “That depends on the question.”

Dina accepted it, eyes still locked on Ellie’s. She paused for a beat—like she was giving Ellie one last chance to change her mind—then asked, “Scale of one to ten. One being, like, absolute trash, and ten being life-altering… how would you rate our kiss from last night?”

She took a slow hit after the question, exhaled through her nose, and didn’t break eye contact.

Ellie blinked. Her heart stumbled in her chest.

The question hit her sideways—unexpected and way too loaded. She sat up a little, the blunt buzz suddenly overwhelmed by something tighter in her chest. “Why are we still talking about this?” she said, her tone softer than the words themselves. “You said it was a mistake.”

Dina didn’t look away. Instead, she tilted her head, eyes tracing the curve of Ellie’s jaw, the slight crease in her brow. “Did I, though?” she murmured, tone featherlight but deliberate.

She held out the blunt, smoke curling from her fingers like the question still hanging between them.

Ellie swallowed hard. Her fingers brushed against Dina’s as she took it, and even that brief contact made her skin tingle. She took a long drag—more for time than for the high—then exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift toward the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying for nonchalance, but it came out uneven, like the ground had shifted beneath her.

Dina’s smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I asked you to rate our kiss.”

Ellie scoffed, eyes darting to her. “I don’t know.”

Dina leaned in just a little, close enough that Ellie could smell the lingering piney scent of the weed on her breath. “I’d give it… a six.”

Ellie turned to her, incredulous. “A six? Seriously?”

Dina grinned, enjoying herself now. “Like a solid six.”

“Oh my God,” Ellie muttered, trying not to smile as she looked away. “Okay.”

“I mean,” Dina continued, shrugging a shoulder, “there were a lot of people around. Music was loud. I was pretty buzzed. Factors were working against us.”

Ellie glanced back at her, jaw dropped in mock offense. “Yeah, but… six?”

Dina laughed. “Don’t act all wounded! I’m being honest.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes, passing the blunt back to her. “Now I really don’t want to tell you my number.”

“Oh, what? Why? Now I really want to know how you’d rate it.”

Ellie leaned in just slightly, elbow resting on the back of the couch, one brow raised. “I don’t think you do.”

“Oh, I do.” Dina’s voice dipped a little, teasing. “Unless it’s lower than six. Then I don’t wanna know.”

Ellie smirked, heart fluttering in her chest. “It’s definitely not lower.”

Dina met her gaze, her voice softer now, almost serious beneath the teasing. “Then tell me.”

Ellie held the look a beat longer than necessary. The weight of it settled in her chest like something solid and warm. She opened her mouth—then closed it, shaking her head with a small grin. “Nah.”

Dina leaned in, her shoulder brushing Ellie’s as she murmured, “You’re infuriating.”

They were close now. Not quite touching beyond the accidental brushes—the kind that didn’t feel accidental at all anymore. The kind that left heat in their wake.

Ellie smirked, eyes gleaming in the dim, flickering light. “Have you met you?”

Dina gave a short laugh, but there was something restless underneath it. Her gaze flicked to the snow-frosted window, then back to Ellie, more focused now. “You make me want to go back outside into that blizzard,” she muttered, half-teasing, half-exasperated.

Ellie shrugged, her voice casual but laced with challenge. “No one’s stopping you.”

Dina didn’t move. Her breath caught, just barely. For a moment, all she did was look at Ellie—really look at her, eyes flicking across her face, catching the flush in her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly in the quiet.

Neither of them said anything.

The air stretched between them, humming with possibility.

Then Dina’s gaze dropped—to Ellie’s mouth—and her voice, barely more than a breath, slipped out.

“This better be better than a six.”

Ellie froze for a heartbeat. That tension, the thick, electric kind that curled around her ribs and pressed up under her skin, flared. Her chest rose a little faster. She wasn’t sure if she was grinning or panicking.

But her body moved before her brain could catch up.

She leaned in—slow at first, like she was giving Dina the chance to pull away. But Dina didn’t move. Her eyes fluttered closed the moment before their lips met.

Then—

They crashed into each other, all heat and need and something long overdue. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. Ellie’s hand found Dina’s waist, pulling her closer as their mouths moved together with mounting urgency. Dina responded with a soft, surprised sound, fingers curling in Ellie’s shirt, tugging her in until their bodies were flush.

The couch creaked beneath them as they shifted, mouths moving in sync, breaths mingling, all the space between them disappearing in an instant. The world narrowed to touch and taste—Dina’s soft sighs, the press of her thigh against Ellie’s, the smell of pine and smoke lingering on her skin.

Ellie kissed along Dina’s neck, her lips soft yet insistent, tasting the slight salt of her skin, the faint scent of her intoxicating. Dina’s breath hitched as she reached for her own belt buckle, her fingers fumbling slightly in their haste. She unbuckled and unzipped her jeans, the sound of the zipper loud in the quiet room. She then took Ellie’s hand, her grip firm and demanding, and guided it to her waistband. Ellie looked at her, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and arousal, as she felt the heat radiating from Dina’s body.

Dina pushed Ellie’s hand lower, until her fingers brushed against the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the wetness there, the evidence of Dina’s desire coating her fingers. She looked at Dina with disbelief and wonder, her eyes never leaving Dina’s as she began to explore.

She moved her fingers through her folds, feeling the slick heat, before slowly inserting one finger, then two, into Dina’s tight, wet channel. Dina’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a soft moan escaping her lips, but she quickly opened them again, not wanting to break the intense connection between them.

Dina grabbed the back of Ellie’s neck, pulling her in for a deep, hungry kiss as Ellie began to pump her fingers in and out of her. The couch creaked beneath them, a rhythm that matched the movement of Ellie’s hand, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the air.

Ellie could soon feel the tension building in Dina's body, the way her muscles tightened and her breaths grew shallower. She knew Dina was close, and she wanted to push her over the edge. She added a third finger, stretching and filling Dina, who let out a guttural moan, her nails digging into Ellie's neck, leaving marks that Ellie was sure she'd wear with pride.

"Ellie," Dina gasped, her voice a ragged whisper. "Don't stop."

Ellie had no intention of stopping. She picked up the pace, her hand moving faster, her fingers driving deeper. She could feel Dina's inner muscles clenching around her, the wet sounds of her arousal growing louder, more insistent. Dina's body began to shake, her orgasm building like a storm, ready to crash over her.

"Ellie, I'm... I'm gonna—" Dina's words were cut off as her body convulsed, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that left her gasping for air. Ellie slowed her movements, gently coaxing Dina through her climax, feeling the pulsations around her fingers, the shuddering breaths, the way Dina's body melted into hers.

Ellie smiled down at her, brushing a strand of dark hair from her flushed face. “So…” she whispered, voice low and teasing. “Was that better than a six?”

Dina let out a shaky laugh, her eyelids fluttering half-shut. She turned her head slightly on the cushion, giving Ellie a languid, almost smug look.

“Hmm… I’d say it’s a solid seven.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped slightly. “A seven? Are you kidding me?”

Dina smiled wider, breath still uneven, her voice playful and husky. “I said solid seven. That’s pretty generous considering I’m still recovering.”

“You’re insufferable,” Ellie muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

Dina’s fingers brushed lightly up Ellie’s arm, tugging her down just enough so their faces hovered close again.

“Then prove me wrong,” she whispered. “Show me what a ten feels like.”

Something in Ellie’s chest pulled tight—half a groan, half a gasp. Then their lips met again, slower this time, but deeper. Needier. The kind of kiss that pulled breath from lungs and heat from the core. Ellie’s hand slid up Dina’s side, under her shirt, her touch both reverent and curious.

Dina answered with a low hum, tugging Ellie closer by the front of her shirt until their bodies pressed tight again, heat flaring despite the cold just beyond the walls. There was a new urgency now—like they were chasing something only the two of them could find, here, hidden away from the world.

They broke the kiss only briefly, foreheads resting together, eyes fluttering closed. Neither said anything—they didn’t need to. Fingers worked at fabric between quiet, breathless laughter and stolen kisses. Dina tugged Ellie’s hoodie free, then her shirt, each layer falling to the floor with a soft rustle. Ellie helped her out of her own, moving with gentle care, as if this moment might break if handled too quickly.

They undressed each other like unwrapping something sacred. Like discovery. Dina’s skin was warm beneath Ellie’s trembling hands, the room thick with breath and anticipation. Ellie’s pulse thundered as Dina’s fingers drifted down her arms—grounding, tender. They sank into each other, mouths meeting again, slow and lingering, the old world faded to nothing outside these four dim walls.

And then—

CLUNK.

The creak of the outer door groaning open cut through everything like a blade.

Ellie froze. Dina pulled back, wide-eyed. Then came the unmistakable voice:

“Hello? Ellie? Dina?” Jesse’s boots echoed against the concrete as he called out. “The hell are you guys—?”

“Shit!” Ellie hissed.

“Son of a bitch,” Dina muttered under her breath, grabbing for the nearest blanket and yanking it over them both. “Jesse, do not come any closer!”

There was a pause, the sound of his footsteps hesitating—then continuing. “Uh, yeah, that’s not how this works.”

He turned the corner into the room and instantly recoiled, shielding his eyes. “Jesus!”

“Dude!” Ellie barked, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

“I told you to stay over there!” Dina shouted, flustered.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be—God!” Jesse turned his back to them, holding up both hands. “What the hell are you two doing? You’re supposed to be on patrol!”

Dina sat up a little, blanket tucked under her arms. “There’s a blizzard outside, Jesse.”

Jesse risked a glance over his shoulder—both of them mostly decent now. He still looked like he wanted to throw himself through a wall. “Yeah, well, while you were getting cozy in the weed bunker, Joel and Tommy never showed up at the lookout.”

Ellie’s heart dropped. Her voice cut through the room like a whip. “What do you mean?”

Jesse turned fully now, concern overtaking embarrassment. “Me and the others waited for them for over an hour. They never showed. I was about to check the house's when I saw lights coming from this place.”

Dina frowned, pulling on her shirt. “Maybe they just went back to town early?”

Ellie was already on her feet, tugging her pants on. “Without being relieved? No way. Joel would never do that.”

Jesse nodded grimly. “That’s what I thought too.”

“How much of their route have you checked?” Ellie asked, buckling her belt.

“Not much. Just the surrounding ridge. Visibility’s garbage out there.”

Ellie grabbed her jacket, slinging it over her shoulders with a sharp breath. “Then we split up. Cover more ground. If something happened—if they’re hurt—”

“I don’t like the idea of you going solo,” Jesse cut in, firm.

“Yeah, well I don’t like the idea of Joel and Tommy freezing or bleeding out somewhere while we sit on our asses.” Ellie’s voice was razor-sharp now, laced with panic she couldn’t quite mask.

Jesse met her gaze for a beat, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll take the western ridge. Dina, go south. Ellie, hit the east. If we find anything, we signal and regroup.”

Dina was already pulling on her boots. “You be careful, yeah?” she said to Ellie, her voice tight.

Ellie paused, her eyes locking with Dina’s for one breathless second. “You too.”

Jesse adjusted his rifle strap, nodding toward the exit. “Let’s move.”

---

Ellie rode hard through the blizzard, the world around her reduced to a blur of white and wind. Shimmer’s hooves crunched through deep snow, each step a struggle against the gusts howling like sirens across the open field. The cold bit at every exposed inch of skin, needles of ice pressing into her cheeks and jaw. Her fingers clenched around the reins, stiff with cold, her eyes narrowed against the flurry, barely able to see more than a few feet ahead.

“Come on,” she urged, teeth chattering, voice lost in the storm. “Just hold on, Joel…”

Then, through the haze, a faint glow.

Ellie straightened, pulling Shimmer to a slower trot as the shape of a cabin emerged from the white. The silhouette was crooked and sagging with age, but warm light spilled from the windows—flickering, faint, but unmistakable.

Her heart kicked up painfully in her chest. “Please,” she murmured. “Please be alright.”

She swung down from Shimmer, the snow swallowing her boots up to the ankle. The wind screamed around them, snow clinging to the folds of her coat and scarf as she hurried to tie Shimmer to a half-collapsed awning post offering some shelter from the elements.

Ellie moved quickly to the door, her gloved hand gripping the rusted handle. She gave it a gentle push, the wood creaking open with a long, groaning moan.

Inside, the contrast was jarring.

The warmth wasn’t real—only the illusion of comfort cast by a few dim lanterns burning low. Dust blanketed every surface like the house had been untouched for years. The air was still, musty, thick with the scent of old wood, burned oil, and something faintly metallic beneath it all.

It looked like someone had lived here, once. Faded photographs on crooked frames. A long-dead houseplant near the window. An open book face-down on a table, yellowed pages curling with age.

Ellie moved quietly, every step padded by thick dust and the creak of tired floorboards. Her hand hovered near her pistol as she paused in the front room, straining her ears for anything—voices, movement, the scrape of boots.

Nothing.

Only the faint whine of wind leaking through the cracks.

Ellie exhaled slowly, eyes sweeping the room again—until they caught on a thin seam of light bleeding from beneath a door at the far end of the hallway. Her brow furrowed. It wasn’t natural light; it was too still, too warm. A soft amber glow flickered just under the threshold—steady, controlled.

Basement stairs.

Her hand went to the gun at her hip. She drew it smoothly, grip tightening as she stepped lightly across the warped floorboards. Every creak echoed louder than it should have in the stillness. She paused in front of the door, listening.

Nothing. No voices. No movement.

Just that same light, pulsing beneath the wood like a heartbeat.

Ellie took a breath, then pushed the door open.

The basement greeted her with warmth and the scent of old cedar and gun oil. The narrow staircase descended into a space softly lit by lanterns propped on tables and crates. At the far end, slouched on a battered couch, sat Tommy—head down, fingers plucking quietly at the strings of a dust-covered guitar. His expression was unreadable, eyes distant, but there was a calmness to him.

Across from him, Joel sat hunched over a table, sleeves rolled up, disassembling and cleaning the barrel of his rifle with the methodical care of routine. The scene was quiet. Familiar. Like nothing in the world was wrong.

Neither of them noticed her at first.

The weight of the past hour fell out of Ellie’s lungs in a shaky exhale. Her arms dropped slightly, gun lowering.

“Jesus,” she muttered, voice barely more than a breath.

Joel looked up immediately, his eyes locking on her. His brow furrowed as he stood, the cloth in his hand dropping to the floor. “Ellie?”

Without thinking, she closed the distance in a few strides, slipping the pistol back into its holster. And before he could say another word, Ellie threw her arms around him.

Joel froze.

He stood stiffly at first, like his brain hadn’t caught up to what was happening. Then slowly, his arms came up and closed around her. Warm. Solid. Familiar. He smelled like leather and gunpowder and snow, and for a moment, Ellie didn’t care how angry or worried she’d been—he was here. Alive.

“You alright?” Joel asked, his voice low with concern, his hand braced between her shoulder blades.

Ellie pulled back from the embrace just enough to meet his eyes, her face flushed with leftover adrenaline and the kind of anger that only comes from fear. “Am I alright?” she echoed, eyes narrowing slightly. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Joel’s brows knit together, regret flickering across his face as she fully stepped out of his arms. Ellie’s hands went to her hips, then crossed tightly over her chest like she was physically trying to contain everything churning inside her.

“You were supposed to meet Jesse hours ago,” she said, her voice sharper now. “No word, no sign—you just disappeared. Everyone’s been worried sick.”

Tommy rose from the couch behind them, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “It ain’t like we planned it,” he offered. “Got caught between a freak storm and a horde we didn’t see coming.”

Joel nodded solemnly. “We were out near that collapsed overpass, just finished clearing the north ridge when the first few hit. Thought it’d be a quick cleanup but they kept coming. Got pushed off-course. By the time we fought through ‘em, that whiteout was already on us. This place was the only shelter nearby.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “So you holed up here. Didn’t think to leave a message? A trail?”

“I’m sorry,” Joel said, voice quiet but steady. “Didn’t mean to worry you. That wasn’t the plan.”

She scoffed under her breath, the tension in her shoulders starting to loosen despite herself. Joel could see it—the way her expression shifted, the storm in her chest slowly settling. After a beat, her voice softened, barely more than a murmur.

“I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Joel smiled at that—small and worn, but real. “Me too, kiddo.”

Tommy cleared his throat dramatically, feigning offense as he crossed his arms. “Well damn, don’t mind me. Guess I’m just chopped liver over here.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth despite everything. “I’m happy you’re okay too, Tommy.”

He raised his brows with exaggerated gratitude. “Wow. So heartfelt. Warms me right up.”

Joel gave a quiet chuckle, settling onto the edge of the nearby couch as Tommy shrugged off his jacket and slung his bag onto the old coffee table. The place was cold, dust hanging thick in the stale air, but it was shelter. Safe, for now.

“Storm’s not lettin’ up anytime soon,” Tommy said, rummaging through the bag until he pulled out a vacuum-sealed pouch. “Got some jerky, figured we’d wait it out. Beats freezing our asses off in it.”

He tossed the packet onto the table with a dull thud. Ellie moved toward the couch, her fingers still tingling from the cold as she sank into the worn cushions beside Joel. Tommy took a seat on the opposite armchair, stretching his legs out with a quiet groan.

Joel leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, glancing over at her. “Anything happen on your route?” he asked, voice casual but attentive.

Ellie stiffened for a split second—just long enough for Joel to notice. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve before she forced a shrug, eyes on the jerky like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room.

“Nothing to report,” she said, a bit too quickly. “Just snow, trees, more snow. Standard stuff.”

Joel narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn’t press. He nodded, leaning back with a soft grunt. “Glad to hear it. Wasn’t sure if the whole route got swallowed by this damn horde.”

Tommy cracked the jerky bag open and tossed a piece to Joel before offering it to Ellie. She took one with a quiet “Thanks,” chewing slowly, still trying to keep her mind off the lingering warmth on her skin from earlier—the memory of Dina’s mouth on hers, the fire they’d kindled in the middle of a frozen world.

The moment passed quietly. The only sounds were the wind howling beyond the old walls and the creak of the structure settling around them. The three of them sat there, bathed in the amber glow of the makeshift lantern on the table, the worst of their adrenaline fading into the stillness of safety.

Joel glanced at her again. “We’ll head out as soon as it breaks. Just rest up for now.”

Ellie nodded, quietly grateful for the chance to collect herself. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Sounds good.”

She then shifted deeper into the couch, the jerky forgotten on the paper wrapper in her lap. The warmth from the small lantern flickered softly across the room, casting Joel and Tommy in amber silhouettes as they spoke in low tones about supply lines and patrol routes. Their voices blurred into the background hum of safety—steady, familiar.

She let her head fall back against the cushion, her eyes fluttering closed even as the distant wind continued to howl against the cabin walls. The couch was lumpy, smelled faintly of mildew and dust, but after the storm, the ride, and the panic—it might as well have been a bed.

And even though her muscles ached and her boots were still damp, her mind wandered. Back to the quiet, glowing bunker. The smell of smoke and old tapes. Dina’s fingers brushing her knuckles as she passed the blunt. The press of their mouths, warm and unhurried, growing urgent. That look in Dina’s eyes—soft but burning, like she was seeing every part of her.

Ellie curled slightly on her side, burying her face into the crook of her elbow, trying to block out the weak lantern light. She remembered the way Dina laughed, low and teasing, the sound curling up her spine. The heat of her breath against Ellie’s skin. The way her voice dropped just before—

She sighed, quietly. A small smile tugged at her lips, involuntary and sleepy.

Joel looked over at her just as she shifted again, already half-asleep, her face slack with exhaustion but peaceful in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t say anything—just watched her for a moment, then turned back to Tommy, letting her rest.

Outside, the storm raged on.

But in that dusty, half-frozen cabin, Ellie dreamed of firelight and warm hands. Of kisses that tasted like weed and laughter. Of Dina.

Chapter 10: Lazy Day

The sun hung high in a sky scrubbed clear of storm clouds, casting a sharp, golden light over the snow-blanketed wilderness. The world glittered—pristine and quiet in the way only winter could manage. Each breath the horses exhaled came out in thick, steaming clouds, puffing rhythmically into the crisp, cold air. Their hooves crunched over the fresh powder, the sound muffled but constant as they wound their way along the icy trail that led back to Jackson.

Ellie sat atop Shimmer, her posture relaxed but alert, her fingers flexing in her gloves every so often to chase away the chill. The sun was a welcome warmth on her face after the night in the cabin, though the wind still bit at any exposed skin with sharp teeth. Her eyes scanned the horizon—pine trees dusted in white lining the trail, branches drooping under the weight of snow.

Tommy rode just ahead, occasionally tapping at the small radio clipped to his jacket. “Got ahold of Seth at the gate,” he called back, his voice slightly distorted through the scarf over his mouth. “Said Jesse and Dina made it back fine. Got in right before I called.”

Ellie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders dropping a little. “Good,” she murmured, barely loud enough to carry. Relief washed through her, settling in her chest like warmth instead of cold.

Joel rode beside her, his eyes on the path but his presence steady as always. He hadn’t said much since they left the cabin, but that was Joel—quiet, especially when the worst had passed. Ellie didn’t mind. There was something comforting in the silence shared between them, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.

The trees began to thin as the trail curved, revealing the distant outline of Jackson’s watchtowers rising up from the snowy valley like sentinels. Smoke curled from chimneys in the distance. The faint hum of life, of safety, drifted through the air.

They crested the last hill, and the gates came into full view—wood and steel reinforced with years of hard-earned scars. The faint sound of distant voices and the clang of metal tools drifted up the trail, growing louder as they neared.

Tommy turned in his saddle, lifting a hand. “Go ahead and let ’em know we’re back,” he said, nodding toward a scout up in one of the towers. The figure raised binoculars, paused a beat, then waved back.

“About damn time,” Joel muttered, the closest he came to a joke.

Ellie huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Next time maybe let someone know you’re not dead, huh?”

Joel didn’t answer, but his silence came with the barest hint of guilt in his eyes.

The town gates shut behind them with a creak and a thud, sealing them back into something familiar, something safer. Ellie glanced around as they rode through the snow-dusted main street—people pausing mid-task to wave, nod, or call out. A few clapped Tommy on the back as he passed, relief in every motion. Kids watched from porches, wrapped in layers of scarves and curiosity.

Maria stood ahead near the old greenhouse, rifle slung across her shoulder, boots planted firmly in the snow. The moment she saw Tommy, her eyes narrowed with tension—just for a second—before she moved fast, meeting him halfway. He barely got a word out before she pulled him into a tight hug, whispering something into his neck that made him go soft at the shoulders. Ellie watched with a faint smile, warmth rising to her chest that had nothing to do with the temperature.

She and Joel continued toward the stables, the crunch of snow under hooves giving way to the familiar scent of hay and warm animals. Ellie hopped down from Shimmer with practiced ease, landing in a puff of powder. Joel followed with a grunt, dismounting a little slower, his boots thudding onto the ground.

“Y’know,” Ellie said, tugging off her gloves and tossing them into her saddlebag, “I think you creaked more than the damn gate back there.”

Joel shot her a side-eye, his brow furrowed like he was deciding whether to laugh or groan again. “I’m not old,” he muttered, stretching his back with a grimace. “Just… seasoned.”

“Right,” Ellie smirked. “Seasoned like the jerky Tommy keeps tryin’ to pass off as edible.”

That coaxed a quiet chuckle from him. He paused, brushing snow off his coat, then looked at her, almost sheepish. “Hey… uh. You hungry?”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“Was thinkin’ we could grab somethin’. Breakfast.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck. “Unless you got plans.”

A small, surprised smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Joel nodded once, visibly relieved. They turned to exit the barn together, Ellie brushing a strand of damp hair from her face—

Then, out of nowhere, a pair of arms wrapped tight around her neck, pulling her into a familiar warmth.

“Jesus—Dina?” Ellie sputtered, laughing in surprise, already recognizing the scent of woodsmoke and something citrusy beneath it. She didn’t need to see to know. She just felt it—Dina’s arms wrapped tight around her like a tether pulling her back to earth.

“You idiot,” Dina murmured into her neck, voice thick and breathless. “I thought—” She cut herself off, squeezing tighter.

Ellie stood still for a beat, heart hammering. Then she slowly leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “We’re fine.”

Dina didn’t respond right away. She pulled back slightly, her hands trailing down Ellie’s arms, her eyes scanning every inch of her like she was afraid to miss something. She checked Ellie’s neck, her sleeves, the exposed skin at her wrists—searching for bites, cuts, bruises. Anything.

Ellie stood still under the inspection, letting her. There was something strangely comforting about it. Like being looked at that hard meant someone really cared.

After a few more seconds, Dina exhaled, shoulders softening with relief. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay… good.”

Then her gaze shifted to Joel, who had been giving them a respectful distance near the stall. Without hesitation, Dina walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his torso. Joel tensed in surprise, then let out a groan—not of pain, but awkward affection—as he returned the hug with one arm.

“Hey, kiddo,” he muttered, a bit gruff, but his voice held warmth. “You huggin’ me or tryin’ to crack a rib?”

Dina pulled back with a short laugh. “I’m just glad you’re okay. We were really worried.”

Joel scratched the back of his neck, face flushed from the cold—or maybe something else. “Didn’t mean to go dark like that. The horses spooked, storm came in fast… Tommy and I just reacted. Got lucky with that cabin.”

Dina nodded slowly, eyes thoughtful. “Still… you scared the hell out of a lot of people.”

Joel met her gaze with a quiet nod. “Won’t happen again.”

Ellie watched the exchange, shifting her weight between her feet, suddenly aware of the space between them. Dina turned to her again, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her glove, eyes uncertain for the first time since hugging her.

“Um,” Dina began, voice lighter but no less tentative, “are you… busy?”

Ellie blinked. She glanced at Joel, who was adjusting the bag on his back, pretending not to listen—but his ears definitely were.

“I mean,” Ellie said, rubbing her arm, “me and Joel were gonna grab some breakfast, but—” she looked up at Dina, unsure, hopeful—“you can come if you want.”

For a beat, Dina hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Joel, then back to Ellie. She smiled, small and quick, and shook her head.

“Nah,” she said, stepping back, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

Ellie’s heart gave a flutter at the way Dina said it—like a promise. Like something more was waiting.

“Yeah,” Ellie said softly. “Yeah, okay.”

Dina gave one last smile—brighter this time, lingering—and turned to head back toward town, her boots crunching through the snow.

Ellie watched her go until Joel gave a pointed little grunt beside her. “Well, you comin’, or am I eatin’ alone?”

Ellie smirked, cheeks still pink. “Let’s get you that coffee before you collapse.”

The morning sun glinted off the snowbanks lining the wooden walkways of Jackson, casting long golden streaks between the buildings. The storm had left behind a hush, like the whole town was still exhaling, grateful for calm. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the air carried the mingling scent of pine, ash, and something sweet—maybe bread baking.

Ellie and Joel walked side by side through the heart of town, their boots crunching over the packed snow. People called out greetings as they passed—some waved, others just gave a nod—but there was a warmth to it all. A sense of safety and community that hadn’t existed in Ellie’s life for a long time. She wasn’t used to being seen like this—not just as a survivor, but as part of something.

“Glad to see you made it, Joel!”

“You too, Ellie—everyone was worried sick!”

Joel gave the occasional wave, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, his shoulders hunched more from social discomfort than the cold. Ellie muttered a few greetings back, trying not to think about how many people probably knew about her and Dina now. It made her stomach do flips, and not entirely in a bad way.

They reached the diner, a squat, timber-framed building with frosted windows and the warm glow of lanterns inside. The familiar clatter of dishes and quiet hum of conversation greeted them as they pushed through the doors. It wasn’t packed, but a few tables were filled with early risers and patrol returnees, their voices low and sleepy.

Joel scanned the room and gestured toward a booth tucked into the far corner, partially hidden behind a beam. Ellie followed him, sliding into the opposite side as they both shrugged off their coats.

A server approached not long after, smiling brightly. “Heard you two had a hell of a night. Glad you made it back.”

Joel gave a small, tired grin. “Appreciate it.”

She poured him a mug of coffee without asking, the rich aroma curling up between them. Joel wrapped his hands around the cup like he was soaking in the warmth through his skin. She glanced at Ellie, who just gestured to the water already on the table.

The woman winked and left them in peace.

Ellie sipped her water in silence, watching Joel take his first long drink of coffee. It was strange sitting across from him like this—quiet, still, with nothing to fight or run from. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no tension hanging over them like a knife. Just an awkward quiet… but not the kind that hurt.

She meant what she’d said the other night—she wanted to heal. Wanted to let go of the mess that had built up between them. And maybe it wouldn’t be perfect, but this? Sitting here in the quiet hum of a sleepy town, watching Joel stir his coffee like it was the most important thing in the world—it felt like a start.

Joel leaned back slightly, eyes scanning her face before lowering to his cup again. “Thanks for coming after us,” he said, voice low but steady. “I know you didn’t have to.”

Ellie shrugged, but the corner of her mouth lifted. “Yeah, I kinda did.”

Joel chuckled low, the sound rumbling in his chest as he took another sip of coffee. He leaned one elbow on the table, his fingers drumming absently against the side of his mug. “So…” he started, glancing at her over the rim, “how’re things with you and Dina?”

Ellie blinked, caught mid-sip of her water. Her brow furrowed as she lowered the glass. “Why are you asking?”

Joel gave a little shrug, like he hadn’t just dropped a conversational grenade on the table. “Just… she seemed awfully touchy with you back there. Practically tackled you.”

Ellie’s face flushed immediately, and she quickly looked out the window, her voice a notch too defensive. “She was worried. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm.” Joel smirked into his cup, the kind of look that said he wasn’t buying it, but also wasn’t going to press too hard. “I ain’t judgin’ or anything. Just sayin’, wasn’t subtle.”

Ellie shifted in her seat, a hand running through her hair as she tried to fight the growing warmth creeping up her neck. “Yeah, well… nothing’s official. Or… labeled. Or—whatever.”

Joel gave her a look—one of those quiet, perceptive ones that said he was putting two and two together even if she wasn’t handing him the math. He sipped his coffee, then set the mug down with a small thunk on the wooden table.

“Don’t seem like a ‘whatever’ to me,” he said, voice low but not pushy. Just honest.

Ellie exhaled slowly, staring down at her water glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t know what it is.” She rubbed her thumb along the condensation on the side, watching it smear. “Feels like something. But…”

Her words trailed off, leaving space for the thoughts that clawed around behind her ribs. Her mind drifted back to the night in the bunker—the heat of Dina’s breath against her mouth, the way their hands had trembled and clutched at each other like they were trying to memorize every inch. The sounds she made—God, the way she said Ellie’s name—it hadn’t felt casual. It hadn’t felt like curiosity.

But here, in the morning light, with snow melting off the rooftops and life continuing like nothing had changed, it was hard to hold on to the certainty. What if it was just the moment? Just the weed? Just the cold and adrenaline and need for comfort?

Was Dina experimenting? Trying something out? Was Ellie reading too much into it? A flicker of doubt twisted low in her stomach—subtle, but sharp. Like a pulled thread she couldn’t stop tugging at.

She didn’t say any of that aloud. Instead, she lifted her eyes to Joel’s, her face giving nothing away.

Joel didn’t press, just nodded slowly, his gaze steady and kind. “You’ll figure it out,” he said. “Whatever it is.”

Ellie gave a quiet hum of agreement, though it didn’t feel like enough. She appreciated that he wasn’t digging, wasn’t lecturing. Just offering her the space to sit with it.

Joel leaned back, stretching slightly before tipping his mug back again. “Still not sure how she pulled you, though. You’re a damn handful.”

Ellie cracked a grin despite herself, grateful for the shift in tone. “Takes one to know one.”

Joel chuckled, the sound familiar and easy. “Fair enough.”

Ellie leaned back in the booth, arms crossed lightly over her chest as she watched people pass by outside the frosted window—families carrying baskets, a few guards returning from patrol, kids tossing snowballs that never quite hit their marks.

Inside the diner, the quiet clink of dishes and low murmur of conversation filled the space, warm and safe. The kind of stillness that settled after a storm.

Joel nursed more of his coffee, his eyes soft with something that looked close to peace. He didn’t say much else, and Ellie didn’t need him to. There was something about just sitting there that made the silence feel like a conversation on its own.

She glanced at him one more time, something loosening in her chest. For all the things they hadn’t said—for all the pain, and confusion, and anger still lingering somewhere between them—this felt like the start of something quieter. Something healing.

---

Ellie sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft strum of her fingers against the guitar strings filling the room with a low hum. She wasn’t really playing—just moving through the motions, half-distracted. The day had been long, her shoulders sore from patrol, and all she wanted was a quiet minute before heading out to see Dina.

She ran the cleaning cloth over the neck of the guitar, eyes half-lidded, the familiar weight of it comforting in her lap. The sun was just starting to dip behind the mountains outside her window, painting the walls in amber light when—

Knock knock.

Ellie looked up, startled, the sound jarring in the stillness. A little flutter of anticipation twisted in her chest. Dina, probably.

“Hold on,” she called, quickly brushing her hair back and setting the guitar gently on its stand. She padded across the room and pulled open the door—

Only to find Cat standing there.

Ellie blinked.

The sun light cast a warm halo around her visitor, the familiar shape of her braid pulled over one shoulder, a slight smile tugging at her mouth. “Hey, Williams,” Cat greeted, voice low, casual—like no time had passed at all.

Ellie’s brows drew together in surprise. “Cat?” she said, not quite hiding the confusion in her tone. “Uh… hey.”

For a second, neither of them spoke, the air between them stretched taut with unsaid things. Ellie shifted her weight slightly, still gripping the edge of the door, unsure whether to step back or close it again.

Cat shifted on her feet, breath visibly curling in the cold as the silence dragged. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, her shoulders slightly hunched. Finally, she let out a breathy laugh, almost sheepish.

“Can I come in before I freeze my ass off?” she asked, tone light but pointed.

Ellie blinked, snapping back to herself like someone had just thrown cold water in her face. “Shit—yeah, of course,” she muttered, stepping aside quickly and motioning her in. “Sorry.”

Cat slipped past her, the scent of pine and snow clinging to her jacket, and Ellie shut the door behind them, missing the figure standing at the edge of the path—Dina, frozen in place.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight inside the lit window: Cat stepping into Ellie’s space like she’d never left, like there was still a place for her there. Her jaw clenched. Then she turned sharply on her heel and walked away, fists tight at her sides.

Inside, Ellie rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly too aware of the smallness of the room and the quiet. She crossed her arms over her chest, her voice edged with caution. “So… what are you doing here, Cat?”

Cat gave a half-smile as she stepped deeper into the room, her eyes flicking around like she was absorbing every detail—the half-strung guitar, the worn-in boots by the bed, the soft hum of warmth in the space that still smelled like pine and smoke.

“Seems like you’ve had quite the week,” she said, glancing back at Ellie. “First that thing with Seth, then the patrol going sideways…”

Ellie groaned, dragging a hand down her face as she flopped onto the edge of her bed. “Why does everyone know about the Seth thing?”

Cat chuckled, moving to lean against the nearby shelf, arms crossing over her chest casually. “Ellie… this town’s full of gossips. You sneeze weird and someone’s already writing it down in their journal.”

Ellie muttered something under her breath—something between a groan and a curse—and Cat laughed again, low and easy, like nothing had changed.

After a beat, her smile faded into something softer. “Seriously though… how are you doing? Are you okay?”

Ellie looked away, eyes trailing to the floorboards as she scratched at the back of her neck. “Yeah. I’m fine.” It came out too fast to be convincing, and she knew it, but Cat didn’t call her on it—not right away.

Instead, Cat gave her a once-over, like she was trying to read beneath the shrug and the tired posture. Then her gaze sharpened, casual curiosity threading into her tone. “And what about Dina?”

Ellie’s eyes flicked up fast, surprised—caught.

Cat didn’t sound accusing. If anything, she sounded genuinely curious. “Are you two, like… a thing now?”

Ellie froze for a second, the question hanging in the air between them. She sighed heavily, rubbing her hand over her mouth as if the words might come easier that way. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s not… official or anything.”

Cat tilted her head. “But something happened?”

Ellie hesitated, then gave the faintest nod. “Yeah. Something.”

There was a silence after that—comfortable in some ways, awkward in others. Cat didn’t push, just leaned her head back against the wall, watching Ellie with a familiar kind of patience.

Cat let the silence stretch just a moment longer before breaking it, her voice low and teasing. “So something more happened… besides you two making out in front of the entire town?”

Ellie groaned, dragging both hands down her face as if she could melt into the floor and disappear. “Jesus,” she muttered, muffled behind her palms.

Cat laughed, clearly enjoying herself now. “I mean, I was surprised to hear about it. You used to flinch if I so much as held your hand in public.”

Ellie peeked at her from between her fingers, cheeks flushed. “I still hate that shit,” she mumbled.

“Oh, clearly.” Cat’s grin stretched. “Totally convincing, considering you practically gave Jackson its own live show.”

“That is so dramatic,” Ellie groaned again, letting her head fall back against the edge of the couch. “She was drunk.”

“I always figured you two would end up together eventually.”

Ellie let out a quiet, exhausted sigh. “Cat…”

Cat raised her hand, cutting her off gently. “Hey—I’m not mad, alright? Me and you… that’s done. Been done. I’ve had time to think about it, and I think Dina’s good for you.”

Ellie’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing in that skeptical way she always had when something didn’t add up. “You hate Dina.”

Cat smirked faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t hate her. I just… don’t care about her. Not in any real way. She’s not someone I think about unless I have to. But I can still recognize when someone’s decent.”

Ellie tilted her head, curiosity flickering behind her gaze. “Then why do you guys act like you hate one another so much?”

Cat paused, leaning her weight back against the wall again, her arms folding over her chest. “It’s not really hate. We just… never clicked. Even before you came here. Always butting heads—over patrol stuff, how to talk to people, how to not talk to people.” She gave a dry laugh. “We’re just different. And stubborn. Didn’t mix well.”

Ellie nodded slowly, letting Cat’s words settle in her chest like dust after a long storm. She stared at the floor for a beat, then cleared her throat—soft but deliberate—as she pushed herself up from the couch. Her boots scuffed quietly against the wooden floor as she crossed the room, rubbing the back of her neck, clearly working up to something.

“I, uh…” Ellie started, voice rough with hesitation. “I just—I wanted to say I’m sorry. About how things ended. About how I… handled it. I was kind of a shitty girlfriend.”

She winced at her own words, eyes flicking up to gauge Cat’s reaction, but Cat didn’t look angry. Just… tired in the way people get when they’ve already processed something long ago.

Cat stepped forward, her expression gentler than Ellie expected, and she placed a steady hand on Ellie’s arm. “You were a bit of an idiot,” she said with a smirk, her tone light but not cruel. “But we were both figuring stuff out. You weren’t awful. I knew where your heart was, even if you didn’t always know how to show it.”

Ellie blinked, a small, surprised breath catching in her throat.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” Cat added. “A long time ago, actually. I meant it when I said I’m good. We’re good.”

Ellie searched her eyes for a beat, that familiar mix of gratitude and guilt flickering across her face. “Thanks,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “That… actually means a lot.”

Cat’s smile lingered, softer this time, touched with something genuine. “I hope things work out with Dina,” she said, voice even but sincere. “It was a long time coming.”

Ellie nodded, a flicker of something wistful crossing her features. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “me too.”

Cat took a breath and stepped toward the door. She pulled it open, the cool night air curling at the threshold, but before she stepped out, she turned back, a mischievous gleam lighting her eyes.

“Oh—and tell Dina she owes me one,” Cat said with a crooked grin.

Ellie blinked. “Owes you for what?”

“For being your first,” Cat replied breezily. “And for all the sex tips you’ll clearly put to good use.”

Ellie let out a strangled groan, her face instantly burning as she scrubbed her hands over it. “Jesus, Cat. I’m not telling her that.”

Cat laughed, full and amused. “Your loss. Could’ve been a great bonding moment.”

“Get out of here,” Ellie muttered, still red, but smiling now despite herself.

With one final chuckle, Cat offered a small wave. “Night, Williams.”

Then she was gone, the door shutting with a soft click behind her, leaving Ellie in the quiet. She stood there a moment longer, hand still over her face, heart still racing just a little—not from embarrassment now, but from everything that came before, and everything that was still waiting for her, just across town.

---

The moon hung high above Jackson, casting a silver glow over the snow-dusted streets. Porch lights flickered along the block, painting warm pools of amber across the ground as Ellie made her way through the quiet town. Her breath puffed white into the chilled night air, her hands buried deep in her jacket pockets, shoulders hunched slightly against the cold—or maybe the nerves.

She came to a stop outside a small, familiar house tucked near the edge of the residential row. The porch light was on, casting a golden halo over the worn wooden steps. Ellie stared at the door for a moment longer than she needed to, her boots scuffing faintly against the steps as she slowly climbed them.

This was Dina’s place. Just hers. One bedroom, one lamp always left on, a space filled with plants and books and little things that smelled like her. Ellie hesitated, then raised her hand and knocked.

A few seconds passed.

The house was still.

Ellie exhaled quietly, her breath fogging in the cold. She rubbed the back of her neck, glancing once over her shoulder at the sleepy street behind her, then back at the door—waiting.

The door creaked open, and there stood Dina—hair pulled up into a messy bun, her tank top snug against her frame, sweatpants hanging low on her hips. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and her expression could’ve frozen fire. Ellie felt a chill snake down her spine, and it wasn’t from the night air.

Dina didn’t say anything at first—just stared at her like she was deciding whether to shut the door again. Then, voice low and laced with cold anger, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

Ellie shifted her weight, trying to stand a little straighter. “I thought… maybe we could talk?”

For a second, Ellie thought she was about to be told to screw off. But then Dina stepped aside, slow and silent. Ellie slipped inside, and the door closed behind her with a soft click.

The warmth of the house was immediate, but it didn’t quite settle the tension twisting in her stomach.

Dina’s place was lived-in and cozy, the kind of home you didn’t want to leave once you sank into it. To the left was a small kitchen with hanging mugs, herbs strung to dry near the window, and a round table tucked under a low-hanging lamp, two mismatched chairs pulled close. A plate with the remains of what looked like a late dinner sat by the sink.

To the right, the living room opened up, lit softly by a standing lamp in the corner. A large, comfy-looking couch sat facing an old TV. The shelves flanking it were crammed with rows of DVDs, half-labeled or smudged. Polaroids covered the walls and shelves—snapshots of moments frozen in time. A few posters were pinned unevenly, curling slightly at the corners. Plants dotted the windowsills and bookcases, their leaves soft and green, giving the space a heartbeat of its own.

Dina walked ahead of her, barefoot and silent, arms still crossed as she settled near the couch but didn’t sit.

The air was thick between them.

Ellie swallowed, voice quiet. “You’re mad.”

Dina didn’t look at her. “Little bit.”

Dina still hadn’t looked at her, her eyes scanning a random spot on the wall like it might help her keep her composure. Ellie shifted on her feet, her hands stuffed deep in the pockets of her jacket.

“Okay,” Ellie said softly, cautiously. “Can you tell me why?”

Dina let out a breath that was more like a scoff, her arms tightening around herself. “You really don’t know?”

Ellie’s brow furrowed. “No. I mean—if this is about patrol, I tried to get back as fast as I could—“

Dina finally looked at her then, eyes sharp under furrowed brows. “It’s not about patrol.”

Ellie’s brow furrowed, her head tilting slightly as she tried to retrace her steps. “Okay… then what? What did I do?”

Dina folded her arms tighter across her chest, jaw clenched like she was trying to keep the words in—but they slipped out anyway.

Ellie tried again, gentler this time. “Is this about… breakfast with Joel?”

Dina huffed a humorless breath through her nose. “No, Ellie. It’s not about breakfast.”

Ellie blinked, her confusion only deepening. “Then what? You gotta help me out here, ‘cause I’m really trying.”

Dina’s eyes didn’t waver as she stood her ground, voice flat. “I came by your place.”

Ellie’s shoulders tensed, her mouth parting like she was about to respond—but she didn’t, not yet.

Dina let the silence hang for a second before adding, “But you were clearly busy.”

That’s when it clicked.

Ellie blinked, then muttered, “Oh.”

Dina’s brow shot up, her expression tightening. “Yeah. Oh.”

She turned on her heel and started toward the couch, her steps clipped and deliberate. Ellie hesitated for half a second before trailing after her, rubbing her palms on the sides of her jeans like she could wipe the tension off with them.

“She just showed up,” Ellie said finally, her voice low. “I thought it was you at the door.”

Dina dropped onto the couch, folding one leg beneath her. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glanced up, unconvinced.

“Nothing happened,” Ellie added, firmer this time, coming to a stop in front of her.

Dina tilted her head slightly, expression unreadable. “Right.”

Ellie stepped closer, urgency creeping into her tone. “Dina. I swear. We talked. That’s it.”

Dina stared at her for a long, quiet beat, her fingers toying with the hem of her tank top. The anger that had hardened her features was fading, replaced by something more raw—something unsure.

“What did you talk about?” she asked finally, voice subdued but still edged with tension.

Ellie didn’t hesitate. “She was just checking in. Wanted to see if I was okay… after the Seth thing, and the patrol.”

Dina’s brow creased. “That’s it?”

Ellie nodded. “That’s it. I swear.”

Dina looked away, her jaw flexing as she tried to hold something down—something tangled and vulnerable. “Just… seeing her there,” she said after a pause, her voice breaking slightly, “in your space… after last night… I just—” She stopped, sucking in a breath and shaking her head. “I felt stupid.”

Ellie’s heart clenched at the words. She stepped closer again, her voice softening, anchoring.

“You’re not stupid.”

Dina let out a soft breath, the corner of her mouth tugging upward into a small, tired smile. “Well… I am smarter than you.”

Ellie scoffed, but the warmth behind it was undeniable. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

They shared a look then—steady, searching, something tender passing between them like an unspoken truce. Ellie eased down beside her on the couch, their knees brushing. Her voice was quiet but sure.

“You’re all I could think about today. Even with everything going on.”

Dina’s smile deepened, her eyes softening with it. “Yeah?” she murmured, her hand finding Ellie’s knee.

Ellie nodded, gaze dropping briefly to Dina’s lips. “Yeah.”

Dina leaned in, her forehead resting against Ellie’s for a beat before she closed the distance, kissing her slow and sweet. Ellie sighed into it, her hand drifting to Dina’s waist, fingers curling gently at her hip.

The kiss deepened naturally, like a current pulling them in. What started soft turned hungrier—lips parting, breaths catching, the space between them disappearing. Dina shifted onto Ellie’s lap, her hands cupping Ellie’s face with a certainty that made Ellie’s heart stutter.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were dark with want, but her voice was low and teasing. “I want to finish what we started.”

Ellie swallowed, pulse kicking up as her eyes searched Dina’s. “Yeah?”

Dina gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Yeah. If you still want to.”

Ellie’s nod came too fast, too eager, and it made Dina laugh—a soft, breathy sound that lit up her face and made Ellie’s stomach flutter. “God, you’re cute when you’re nervous,” Dina teased, leaning in and brushing her lips against Ellie’s again.

Ellie barely managed a self-conscious chuckle before Dina’s hands slid up the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair as their kiss deepened. Ellie sighed into her mouth, her hands settling on Dina’s waist, thumbs slipping just beneath the hem of her tank top, grazing warm skin.

Dina pulled back only long enough to tug the shirt over her head, the fabric falling silently to the floor. She met Ellie’s eyes then, steady and sure, her smile gentle but burning with something that made Ellie’s heart thump hard.

“We should go lie down,” Dina murmured.

Ellie nodded—again, probably too fast—and without a word, slipped her arms under Dina’s thighs. Dina let out a surprised yelp, then wrapped her legs around Ellie’s waist, laughing as Ellie hoisted her up with surprising ease.

“You could’ve warned me,” Dina said, breathless against her neck.

Ellie grinned, her voice a low murmur. “You didn’t give me time.”

As they made their way to the bedroom, their laughter softened into quiet kisses, their touch tender and charged. Pieces of clothing were left behind like breadcrumbs, marking the path between hesitation and trust, uncertainty and want.

Ellie soon placed Dina down on the bed, their lips still locked in a passionate kiss, their bodies naked and flush against each other. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across their entwined forms. Ellie's hands explored Dina's body, tracing the curve of her hip, the small of her back, as their kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and needy.

Then, to Ellie’s surprise, Dina suddenly shifted her weight, using her strength to flip their positions. Ellie let out a yelp of surprise as she landed softly onto the pillows, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and excitement. She looked up at Dina, who was now straddling her, a playful smile on her lips. Dina leaned down, her hair creating a curtain around their faces as she kissed Ellie again, this time with a dominant, possessive hunger. Ellie could feel Dina's heart racing, matching the pounding in her own chest. Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, the heat between them intense and intoxicating.

The heat between them was intense, almost scorching. Dina's hands explored Ellie's body with a newfound urgency, tracing the lines of her collarbones, the swell of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, before finally reaching down to grasp Ellie's length. Ellie moaned deeply, her hips bucking involuntarily as Dina's strong, confident grip sent waves of pleasure coursing through her.

Dina lifted herself slightly, angling Ellie's length against her before slowly, deliberately sinking down onto her. They both moaned in unison as they were joined for the first time, the sensation overwhelming and exquisite. Dina paused for a moment, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the feeling, her body adjusting to the intrusion. Ellie watched her, entranced, the sight of Dina above her, flushed and beautiful, almost too much to bear.

After a moment, Dina opened her eyes, locking her gaze with Ellie's as she placed her hands firmly on Ellie's shoulders. She began to move, her hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had them both moaning and gasping for breath. The room filled with the sound of their passion, the slick, wet noises of their bodies moving together, the soft, desperate moans that fell from their lips. Dina leaned down, her forehead resting against Ellie's as she whispered soft, dirty words of encouragement, her voice hoarse with desire. "You feel so good, Ellie," she murmured.

Ellie's hands gripped Dina's hips tightly, her fingers digging into the soft flesh as she held on for dear life. She could feel every movement, every shift of Dina's body, and it sent waves of pleasure crashing through her. Ellie's breath hitched as Dina's pace began to quicken, her hips moving faster and more urgently. The room echoed with the sound of their bodies slapping together, a primal, erotic symphony that spurred them both on.

Dina soon sat up, her hands pressing against Ellie's chest as she rode her with abandon, her head thrown back, her eyes closed in ecstasy. "Yes, Ellie," she panted, her voice breathless and wild. "Just like that.“

Ellie, driven by a the urge to please, moved one of her hands to grip Dina's ass tightly, while the other ventured between Dina's legs. Her fingers found Dina's clit, slick and swollen, and began to rub in slow, deliberate circles. Dina's moans grew louder, more feral, as Ellie's touch sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her. The room was filled with the sound of their passion—the wet, slapping noise of their bodies moving together, the desperate, needy moans that fell from Dina's lips, and the headboard thumping loudly against the wall with each of Dina's increasingly frantic movements.

"Ellie," Dina gasped, her voice a mix of warning and plea. "I'm close. I'm so close. I'm going to come, and you better not fucking stop."

Ellie, fueled by Dina's words and the sheer intensity of the moment, redoubled her efforts. She matched Dina's frantic pace, her fingers working Dina's clit with expert precision, her other hand gripping Dina's ass tightly to hold her in place as Dina rode her with wild abandon.

Dina's warnings turned to pleas, her voice a hoarse, desperate cry. "I'm coming, Ellie. I'm coming." And with a final, loud yell, Dina's body stiffened, her hips still moving in a frantic, erratic rhythm as she came undone. Her nails dug into Ellie's shoulders, leaving red marks in their wake, and her inner muscles clenched and released around Ellie's length.

Ellie, feeling Dina's orgasm ripple through her, let out a low, guttural moan of her own, her body tensing as she fought to hold back her own release. She wanted to savor this moment, to feel Dina's pleasure crashing over her like a wave.

"Oh come on, Ellie, please," Dina panted, her voice a hoarse, desperate plea as she continued to rock her hips, impaling herself on Ellie's length. "I want to feel you come. I want you to fill me up."

Something snapped in Ellie at those words, a primal, instinctual response that tore through her like a wildfire. Her mouth opened wide in a silent cry as her orgasm hit her with the force of a freight train. Dina, sensing the change, redoubled her efforts, her hips moving in a frantic, desperate rhythm as she milked Ellie for all she was worth.

Ellie's body convulsed, her hips bucking up to meet Dina's thrusts, her length pulsing and spurting deep inside her. Dina moaned louder, the sound a deep, guttural growl of pure pleasure as she felt Ellie's release filling her. She rode Ellie through her orgasm, her hips moving in a desperate, needy rhythm, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her.

"Yes, Ellie," Dina panted, her voice a hoarse, desperate whisper. "That's it. Give it all to me."

Ellie, her body shaking and her breath coming in ragged gasps, could only moan in response, her hands gripping Dina's hips tightly as she held on for dear life. The room spun, their bodies moved in a frenzy, and the world outside ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other.

Dina collapsed onto Ellie’s chest with a contented sigh, her breath still uneven as she nestled her face into the curve of Ellie’s neck. Their skin was warm and slick with the afterglow, heartbeats slowly beginning to sync as the room settled into a hush. Ellie ran a slow, steady hand along Dina’s back, fingertips tracing small, comforting circles, grounding them both.

Dina pressed a lingering kiss to the crook of Ellie’s neck, breathing her in, voice muffled against her skin. “Eight,” she murmured.

Ellie blinked, brow furrowing as she tipped her head to glance down. “What?”

Dina pulled back just enough to look at her, a sleepy, teasing grin tugging at her lips. “That was a solid eight.”

Ellie scoffed, her mouth falling open in mock offense. “An eight? Seriously?”

Dina shrugged, trying to hold back a smirk. “Hey, that’s a good score. Just means we’ll have to go for ten next time.”

Ellie gave her a flat look, then cracked a laugh she couldn’t contain. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, shaking her head as she wrapped both arms around Dina, pulling her close again.

Dina nuzzled in with a small, satisfied hum, clearly proud of herself. Ellie grabbed the edge of the blanket with one hand, tugging it up over their tangled limbs, cocooning them in warmth and soft cotton. The air between them was slow and easy now, their breaths matching in rhythm, bodies molded together in a way that made it feel like they belonged there—exactly like that.

Ellie let her fingers drift across Dina’s bare back, slow and thoughtful. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning her head to look at her.

“So… what are we now?” she asked, voice low, hesitant but honest. “You know. You and me.”

Dina lifted her head, her dark eyes latching onto Ellie’s. She blinked, then gave her a lopsided smirk. “Well, I’m not a whore, so…” She shrugged a bare shoulder. “I kinda figured we were dating now.”

Ellie blinked, then let out a loud laugh that shook her shoulders and made Dina smile even wider.

“That’s how we’re defining it?” Ellie asked between soft chuckles. “Not a whore—must be dating?”

“Hey, it’s foolproof,” Dina said, grinning. “Also, I’m not sleeping with anyone else. I’m kind of obsessed with you, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, her grin betraying how much the words hit her. “You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

Dina leaned down and kissed her on the shoulder. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole now.”

Ellie snorted. “God, help me.”

Dina’s fingers moved in slow, lazy patterns across Ellie’s chest, trailing the rise and fall of her breaths. The room was quiet, warm with the hush of midnight and the comfort of tangled sheets. She shifted slightly, propping her chin just above Ellie’s sternum, eyes soft as she looked up at her.

“When did you start liking me?” Dina asked, her voice gentle, curious—like she was picking at a thread she’d wanted to tug for a long time.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard by the question. She stared at the ceiling for a beat, her lips parting, then slowly closed again as her thoughts rewound. She let out a small breath and let herself go there.

“I think… my first day in Jackson,” she said quietly, her hand brushing along Dina’s spine absentmindedly. “You were in the dining hall. Laughing about something with your friends, I think. And then you looked up and smiled at me. Just this little smile from across the room like—like you already knew me.”

Dina’s brow lifted slightly, listening.

Ellie gave a faint laugh. “I remember thinking, ‘Shit. I’m in trouble.’ And then later, you walked up to us like you were the mayor or something. Introduced yourself like we were at a meet-and-greet.”

“I have presence,” Dina murmured with a teasing smile.

Ellie smirked. “Yeah, that’s one word for it. But I just remember… that smile. It made everything feel less scary. Like maybe this place could actually be home.”

There was a pause. Then Dina nudged her playfully with her nose. “You know I only came up to you ‘cause I thought you were cute, right?”

Ellie felt the heat rise up her neck instantly. “You did not.”

“Oh, I absolutely did,” Dina said, grinning. “You had that whole mysterious, broody new girl thing going. It was working.”

Ellie covered her face with one hand. “God, you’re the worst.”

Dina laughed, her smile settling into something softer, more affectionate. “Maybe. But I got you, didn’t I?”

Ellie peeked out from behind her fingers, lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah. Guess you did.”

Dina leaned up again, her lips brushing against Ellie’s in a kiss that was softer this time—slow, lingering, like a promise they hadn’t yet found the words for. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against Ellie’s, eyes fluttering open to meet hers.

But Ellie’s brows drew in, a quiet question still hanging in the air between them. She lifted a hand to gently tuck a strand of Dina’s hair behind her ear.

“Why now?” Ellie asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Why kiss me on New Year’s Eve?”

Dina hesitated, her gaze searching Ellie’s face as though weighing how much of herself to give in that moment. Finally, she shifted slightly, propping herself up on her elbow so she could really look at her. “I wanted to do it for years,” she admitted, her voice hushed, laced with the kind of truth that had lived quietly for too long. “But I was kind of a… chicken shit about it.”

Ellie’s brow arched slightly. “You?”

Dina gave a sheepish shrug. “Yeah. Me. Brave on patrol, scared shitless of my own feelings.”

She sighed, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the sheet tangled between them.

“There was Jesse,” she said softly, “and then Cat. It always felt messy. Like the timing was just never right. I didn’t want to ruin what we had… or confuse things more than they already were. But that night, I don’t know—something about it just… broke loose. Knowing you were right there beside me—I couldn’t hold it anymore. I just snapped.”

She looked at Ellie then, eyes open and unguarded. “And I didn’t want to go another year pretending I didn’t feel the way I do.”

Ellie stared at her, quiet for a long moment. Then she reached up and gently touched Dina’s cheek, her thumb brushing along her jaw. “Well,” she murmured, “guess I’m glad you finally snapped.”

Dina smiled, her eyes gleaming just a little. “Yeah… me too.”

They stayed wrapped around each other for the rest of the night, limbs tangled beneath the warm weight of the blankets, skin still humming with the tenderness they’d shared. Ellie lay on her back, one arm curled protectively around Dina’s waist, while Dina rested her head on Ellie’s chest, her fingers lightly brushing the space just above Ellie’s heart, as if memorizing its rhythm.

The room was quiet but for the soft creak of the old floorboards settling and the occasional rustle of the sheets when one of them shifted slightly. Outside, the winter wind pressed gently against the windowpanes, but the cold never touched them—sheltered in the little pocket of warmth they’d built together beneath the covers.

Breath evened out. Eyes fluttered closed. Neither spoke, because nothing more needed to be said.

And eventually, they drifted off—held close by each other, lulled to sleep by the sound of steady breathing, wrapped in comfort, in safety, in something real.

---

The morning light spilled in golden shafts across the hardwood floor, soft and diffused through the frosted glass of Dina’s bedroom window. Outside, the world was still quiet, save for the occasional chirp of birds perched in the snow-laced trees, their song muffled by winter’s hush.

Inside, warmth lingered beneath the blankets. Ellie stirred first, her eyes blinking open slowly. The first thing she registered was the steady rise and fall of Dina’s breath, the comforting press of her back against Ellie’s chest. Their fingers were still twined, resting loosely between them.

A small smile curved Ellie’s lips as she tightened her hold just slightly, then leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Dina’s bare shoulder. Dina let out a soft, sleepy hum in response, shifting a little and cracking one eye open to glance over her shoulder.

“Mornin’,” Ellie murmured, voice still raspy from sleep.

Dina gave a lazy grin. “Mmm… barely,” she groaned, stretching with a satisfying pop before turning to face Ellie more fully. Their noses nearly brushed, and Ellie leaned in instinctively for a kiss—but Dina twisted away with a sudden laugh.

“No, no, wait—morning breath,” she said, grimacing playfully as she waved Ellie off.

Ellie blinked, then grinned. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do,” Dina said firmly, dragging open the drawer in her nightstand with practiced ease. She pulled out a small mint tin, popped the lid, and plucked one out, tossing it into her mouth. Then, without missing a beat, she turned back and gently pressed one against Ellie’s lips.

Ellie accepted it with a soft chuckle, the mint cool on her tongue as she rolled it around. “This what our relationship is? You feeding me mint in bed?”

Dina smirked. “This is romance, baby. Top shelf.”

Ellie’s grin softened into something warmer, quieter. She reached up, fingers brushing along the curve of Dina’s jaw before she cupped her cheek, the pads of her fingers grazing skin still flushed from sleep. Her thumb traced a slow circle just beneath Dina’s eye, grounding, affectionate.

“C’mere,” Ellie whispered, voice low and fond.

Dina didn’t resist. She leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that was far gentler than any from the night before. It wasn’t hurried, or hungry—it was slow, unspoken words passed back and forth with each lingering press. Dina sighed against her mouth, the sound filled with comfort, the kind that settled right into the bones.

Her hand slid into Ellie’s hair, fingers curling there, holding her close but not tight. The kiss deepened for a breath before easing apart, their foreheads touching as the quiet returned between them—only now it felt full, not empty. Peaceful.

“You always kiss like that in the morning?” Dina murmured, eyes still half-lidded.

Ellie smirked. “Only when I get mints first.”

Dina chuckled, brushing her nose against Ellie’s. “Good to know.”

Ellie let out a long, contented sigh, her fingers still tangled in Dina’s hair. “I could stay in bed all damn day,” she murmured, voice gravelly from sleep and affection.

Dina hummed, her thumb brushing along Ellie’s hip where the sheet had slipped low. “So stay.”

Ellie arched a brow, amused. “Someone’s bound to come looking eventually. Joel’ll probably knock the door down if I don’t show face by noon.”

Dina rolled her eyes and leaned back slightly to look at her. “Then we don’t answer. We hide. Barricade the door. Turn off the radio. Fake our deaths if we have to.”

Ellie chuckled at that, her nose scrunching. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Seriously,” Dina said, tapping her finger lightly against Ellie’s chest. “We don’t have patrol. We’re off-duty. We could stay in, put on a movie, eat snacks, take some naps…” She leaned in again, her lips brushing Ellie’s in a whisper of a kiss before adding with a teasing glint in her eye, “…have a lot more sex.”

Ellie’s mouth curved into a grin, her hand slipping around Dina’s waist to pull her closer. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Their lips met again, the kiss slow and indulgent at first—like they had all the time in the world. Dina’s arms wound around Ellie’s neck, pulling her in until their bare bodies pressed together beneath the warm cocoon of blankets. The air between them was thick with heat and affection, a quiet urgency blooming again as Ellie deepened the kiss, her hand tracing the curve of Dina’s spine.

But just as things were tipping from sweet to heated, a loud, unmistakable growl cut through the moment.

Ellie froze.

Dina pulled back, blinking once before bursting into laughter, her forehead dropping to Ellie’s shoulder. “Was that… your stomach?”

Ellie groaned. “Unfortunately.”

Dina grinned as she pushed herself upright, stretching slightly before throwing back the covers. “Well, I guess I should feed you before you wither away.”

She climbed out of bed in one unhurried motion, completely unconcerned with her nakedness, her skin kissed gold by the soft morning light. Ellie sat up, eyes shamelessly trailing the lines of Dina’s body, her lips parting slightly as she took in the view.

Dina noticed. Of course she noticed.

With a grin, she reached for a hair tie on the nightstand, pulling her curls up into a high ponytail. Then she glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smirk. “Eyes are up here, Williams.”

Ellie blinked, caught, and gave a helpless little shrug, the ghost of a grin tugging at her lips. “Can you blame me?”

Dina chuckled, the sound soft and low as she turned to her dresser. She pulled out a pair of black underwear and a worn T-shirt that hung loose around her frame, slipping into them with casual ease. Then, without missing a beat, she tossed a bundle of clothes toward the bed.

“Here,” she said, grinning. “Didn’t think you’d wanna eat eggs naked.”

Ellie caught the clothes—basketball shorts and a faded gray tank top—and watched for a second as Dina walked out, the curve of her smile still lingering in Ellie’s mind. Shaking her head with a smirk, Ellie stood and pulled on the shorts, then tugged the tank over her head, the scent of Dina’s laundry soap clinging to the fabric. It made her heart twist in a way that felt warm and steady.

She rubbed at her eyes, yawning as she padded into the small bathroom to splash water on her face and rinse the sleep from her mouth. When she emerged, the cozy scent of breakfast had already filled the air.

In the kitchen, Dina stood barefoot in nothing but her shirt and underwear, hips swaying slightly as she stirred a pan of sizzling eggs. The morning light streamed in through the small window above the sink, casting golden lines across her skin and the cluttered countertop—half-used spices, a chipped mug, and two mismatched plates.

Ellie leaned in the doorway for a second, just watching.

Dina glanced over her shoulder, catching her stare, and smirked. “You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna help me not burn these?”

Ellie stepped forward with a sleepy grin. “Depends. Is watching you cook half-naked considered helping?”

Dina rolled her eyes with a teasing grin. “I guess that counts as moral support,” she said, flipping the eggs effortlessly. “But if you’re gonna loiter in my kitchen, at least make yourself useful. Juice. Oranges. Chop chop.”

She nodded toward a bowl brimming with ripe oranges on the counter.

Ellie gave a mock salute. “Yes, chef,” she said, already reaching for the fruit. She grabbed a small serrated knife, slicing the oranges in half with practiced ease. The citrusy scent hit the air instantly, fresh and sharp, as she began squeezing the juice into two mismatched mugs she found in the drying rack—one printed with faded cartoon cows, the other a chipped Firefly logo.

Behind her, Dina slid the eggs onto plates and added a side of toast, her movements fluid and easy. The whole kitchen buzzed with a quiet domestic rhythm—soft sizzling, birds chirping outside the window, the occasional clink of utensils.

“So,” Dina said, handing Ellie a warm plate and taking her own. “What cinematic masterpiece are we starting our lazy day with?”

Ellie handed her a glass of juice. “Something with explosions. Guns, maybe a chase scene or two.”

Dina gave her a knowing look over the rim of her mug. “Of course you’d say that. God forbid we start the morning with something calm and emotionally resonant.”

Ellie grinned, bumping her shoulder gently against Dina’s. “You can pick the second one. Something with feelings and deep metaphors, I guess.”

“Deal,” Dina said, nudging her back. “But if I cry, you’re holding me the entire time.”

Ellie smirked. “Already planning on it.”

---

The soft flicker of the TV danced across the dimly lit living room, but neither of them was paying it much attention. The volume had long since been turned down to a whisper, white noise to accompany the slow rhythm of quiet touches and shared breath. Ellie lay half-curled against Dina’s side, her fingers tracing lazy, feather-light patterns over the bare skin of Dina’s stomach, just beneath the edge of the blanket that covered their tangled legs.

She let her fingertip pause over a small, pale scar just above Dina’s hip. “How’d you get this?” Ellie asked, voice hushed with curiosity, her thumb brushing gently over the mark.

Dina tilted her head down to look, her hair falling loosely over her shoulder. A grin tugged at her lips, part sheepish, part fond. “God. That thing.” She exhaled a soft laugh. “I was twelve. Found this old skateboard behind one of the sheds near the farms.”

Ellie blinked. “You? On a skateboard?”

“Hey, I was a daredevil back then,” Dina said, lifting a brow. “Thought I could teach myself. Got on it, took one push, and it flew out from under me like it had a grudge.”

Ellie smiled, already picturing it. “That still doesn’t explain the scar.”

Dina grimaced, touching the spot absently. “Well… I was also carrying a knife. Dumb, I know. Thought I’d go whittle or something if I got bored. When I fell, I landed right on it. Slipped from my belt and jabbed me. It wasn’t deep enough for stitches, but it bled like hell.”

Ellie stared at her. “Jesus. You stabbed yourself skateboarding?”

“Technically, yes,” Dina said, grinning at Ellie’s horrified expression. “Don’t worry, I retired from extreme sports immediately after.”

Ellie snorted, lowering her face into Dina’s shoulder to muffle a laugh. “You’re a menace.”

“I was twelve! And in my defense, I made that skateboard my bitch after that. Kinda.”

Ellie propped herself up slightly, brushing a kiss to the scar. “Still kinda hot, though.”

Dina raised a brow. “Me nearly disemboweling myself?”

Ellie shrugged with a smirk. “You’re hot. Even accident-prone.”

Dina rolled her eyes, tugging her down by the blanket. “You’re so weird.”

“Yeah,” Ellie murmured against her skin, “but you love it.”

Dina nestled back into the couch, the warmth of Ellie pressed against her and the blanket draped over them making everything feel soft and safe. She brushed her lips gently over Ellie’s and then pulled back just enough to smirk up at her.

“Alright, your turn,” Dina said. “Spill. Give me a story. One of your scars.”

Ellie hesitated, her smirk faltering slightly. Her gaze drifted down to her arm, where her tattoo curled around the place she never let anyone see—never talked about. The bite. The secret. The burden she’d carried for years. But as she looked into Dina’s expectant eyes, soft and trusting and curious, something in Ellie shifted.

Maybe she deserved to know. Maybe it was time.

Ellie took a breath and turned her arm so Dina could see the tattoo clearly. She traced a finger around the spiral of ink that masked the truth beneath.

“See this?” she said quietly. “The tattoo.”

Dina nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. “Your chemical burn, right?”

Ellie nodded once. “Yeah. That’s the story I told people. And… it’s true. Sort of. But the burn? That was on purpose.”

Dina’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Ellie exhaled, her voice lower now, almost reverent. “I was fourteen. I snuck into this old mall back in Boston. Got bit there.”

Dina’s eyes widened. “Bit?”

Ellie met her gaze, unwavering. “By an infected. I should’ve turned. But I didn’t. Nothing happened. The bite healed—kinda gross, all cysted and gnarly looking…”

There was a beat of silence, heavy and stunned, before Dina’s fist collided hard with Ellie’s shoulder.

“OW—what the hell?!” Ellie barked, flinching and clutching the spot.

Dina didn’t give Ellie a chance to recover. With a swift movement, she swung one leg over and straddled Ellie’s hips, her hands bracing on either side of Ellie’s shoulders. Her eyes gleamed with something teasing—challenging—as she looked down at her.

“I told you a real fucking story,” Dina said, her brow raised, voice laced with mock sternness.

Ellie blinked up at her, still rubbing her arm. “That was a real story,” she grumbled.

Dina rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her skepticism. “Uh-huh. Sure. Immune girl with a secret tattoo scar and a chosen one complex. Sounds totally legit.”

Before Ellie could protest, Dina dipped her head suddenly, lips brushing the slope of Ellie’s shoulder before she sank her teeth in—not hard, but enough to make Ellie jolt.

“Ah—hey!” Ellie yelped, half laughing, half squirming. “You psycho!”

Dina lifted her head with a smug grin. “Now that’s a bite mark. Consider us even.”

Ellie stared at her, jaw slack with disbelief, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “You’re insane.”

“Mmhm,” Dina hummed, settling her weight comfortably across Ellie’s hips. “But I’m your insane.”

Ellie’s hands found Dina’s waist, holding her there like she never wanted her to move. “Yeah,” she said, still smiling up at her. “Lucky me.”

Dina arched a brow, fingers lightly drumming against Ellie’s ribs. “Now, give me a real story.”

Ellie groaned, eyes rolling as she muttered, “That was a real story…”

Dina leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. “Say it again, and I’ll bite your other shoulder.”

Ellie flinched with a half-laugh. “Okay, okay! Jesus.” She huffed and went quiet for a second, scanning the ceiling like it held a list of memories she hadn’t looked at in years. Her fingers unconsciously traced the small, jagged scar on her brow. “Alright. I got one.”

Dina’s eyes followed her hand, curiosity sparking. “Go on.”

Ellie pointed at the scar. “I was thirteen. Snuck outta the QZ with my best friend Riley and a couple other kids we knew. Stupid idea, obviously, but we thought we were hot shit. Ended up in this busted old 7/11 on the outskirts—shelves half-collapsed, everything covered in dust. Total graveyard.”

Dina nodded, listening intently, chin propped in her hand on Ellie’s chest.

“So,” Ellie went on, “one of the kids—Bryce, I think—dared me to leap over the counter to grab this old bottle of booze stuck behind the register. And I mean, obviously I couldn’t back down. I had a reputation.”

Dina smirked. “Of course you did.”

Ellie rolled her eyes at herself. “Anyway, I tried to be all slick—ran up, vaulted the counter like I was some kind of action hero—and cracked my head clean on the cash register. Didn’t even make it over. Just bam—faceplant.”

Dina laughed, sharp and bright, shaking her head. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Ellie muttered, a hand rubbing her forehead at the memory. “Blood everywhere, Riley was freaking out, Bryce was laughing so hard he peed himself a little. I still had to climb back over the counter and grab the stupid bottle to save face.”

“You’re such a dumbass,” Dina said affectionately, running her fingers through Ellie’s hair.

“I prefer ‘badass,’ personally,” she said with a mock-serious nod. “But yeah… that’s how I got the scar.”

Dina chuckled, shaking her head as she smoothed her hand through Ellie’s hair again. “Sure, babe. Real badass—nearly knocked out cold by a cash register.”

Ellie smirked. “That cash register never saw it coming.”

Dina laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she leaned down, kissing the scar softly. “Well, it suits you.”

Ellie raised a brow, smirking. “Yeah? Does it make me look tough?”

Dina tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Tough? Sure. Sexy? Definitely. Just—maybe don’t tell anyone you lost a fight to a cash register.”

Ellie snorted, eyes crinkling as she chuckled. “Deal. That story stays between us. You’re the only one who knows, anyway.”

Dina pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, teasing. “Joel doesn’t even know?”

“Nope,” Ellie said, popping the ‘p’ as she settled her arms more snugly around Dina. “There are a few secrets I’ve kept from him.”

Dina smiled, eyes softening with quiet affection. “Well… I feel honored, then.”

Ellie nudged her forehead against Dina’s. “You should. That register story’s top-tier classified.”

Dina let out a soft hum of contentment before snuggling back into Ellie’s chest, her bare legs tangling with Ellie’s under the blanket as she buried her face into the warm curve of her lover’s neck. Ellie’s arms tightened instinctively around her, one hand gently rubbing soothing circles along Dina’s spine.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Dina mumbled, her voice muffled against Ellie’s skin.

Ellie exhaled slowly, pressing a kiss into Dina’s hair. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Me too. But we’ve got right now… so let’s not waste it.”

Dina smiled faintly at that, letting her body go heavy in Ellie’s arms as if giving herself permission to fully melt into the moment. The low hum of the TV filled the room with the soft flicker of color and sound, but neither of them were really paying attention anymore. The world outside felt distant—muted.

Right now, there was just this: the rhythm of their breathing, the warmth of skin on skin, and the quiet promise in the way they held each other, like neither planned on letting go anytime soon.

Notes:

 

Spare comments? Spare comments anyone?

Seriously give me something here… please?

Yes I will make the same joke

Chapter 11: Bloody Trails

Ellie let out a breath, her boots crunching through the thick snow as she trudged along the quiet streets of Jackson. The cold bit at her cheeks, her breath coming out in soft white puffs, but she barely noticed—her mind still tangled up in the warmth she’d just left behind.

After spending nearly two full days holed up with Dina, wrapped in blankets, each other, and a whirlwind of sex and whispered conversations, reality had started to creep in. Dina had pouted, of course, doing her best to tempt Ellie into staying longer—her methods equal parts persuasive and absolutely unfair. Ellie hadn’t stood a chance.

But eventually, between kisses and tangled sheets, Ellie had groaned, burying her face into Dina’s shoulder, and muttered something about Joel flipping the entire damn town upside down if she didn’t show up soon. Dina had relented with a dramatic sigh and one last kiss, making Ellie promise to come back the second she was done.

Now, as the afternoon light filtered through gray clouds and snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, Ellie made her way toward the house, her limbs still sore in a good way and her heart… lighter than it had been in a long time.

As she climbed the front steps of the house, Ellie rubbed her gloved hands together, stomping the last of the snow from her boots before nudging the door open. The familiar scent of wood smoke and coffee greeted her, wrapping around her like a worn jacket. She stepped inside, shutting the cold out behind her.

“Joel?” she called, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet house.

“Kitchen,” came the familiar gruff reply.

Ellie peeled off her jacket and slung it over the back of the coat rack before heading toward the sound of his voice. The floorboards creaked under her feet as she moved through the hallway, the comforting old-groan of the farmhouse greeting her with each step. She rounded the corner to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table, hunched slightly over a spread of wires, screws, and a disassembled circuit board. His reading glasses sat low on his nose, and a faint line of concentration furrowed his brow.

“Hey,” she said softly, stopping at the edge of the table.

Joel glanced up at her, a small smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “Hey, kiddo.”

Ellie moved closer, eyeing the scattered parts. “What’s all this?”

Joel shifted in his seat, holding up a small plastic housing piece between two fingers. “Noticed the light above your door was flickering yesterday. Figured it was a loose board—might as well get it fixed before it shorts or starts sparking.”

Ellie leaned against the edge of the table, glancing down at the small, weathered piece Joel held in his callused fingers. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice quiet but genuine.

Joel gave a small nod, returning his focus to the circuit board as he reached for a screwdriver. “Ain’t a problem. Just figured I’d take care of it before it becomes one.”

A beat of silence settled between them—comfortable in shape, but carrying the weight of things unspoken. Ellie watched him work, her thumb grazing over the edge of the table. She had said she was willing to try, to forgive, but there were still gaps—stretches of silence that neither of them quite knew how to cross without getting snagged.

Joel cleared his throat, the sound cutting gently through the quiet. “If you want, I could show you how to fix it. The light, I mean.”

Ellie scoffed lightly, the sound more fond than dismissive. “That’s more Dina’s thing than mine. She’s the one who gets off on circuits and wires.”

Joel gave a low hum, scratching thoughtfully at his beard. “Yeah, she’s… rather good at that stuff. Quick with her hands. Reminds me of Tommy when he was younger.”

Ellie smiled faintly, but didn’t say anything right away. Joel glanced up at her, tapping the screwdriver against his palm as he tried to ease into something more personal.

“So… how’ve you been?” he asked, casual on the surface but not quite hiding the quiet concern beneath.

Ellie rubbed at the back of her neck, a slight blush warming her face as her eyes shifted away from his. “I’m fine.”

Joel’s brow quirked as he looked her over. “You’re wearin’ the same exact clothes from two days ago.”

Ellie straightened a little too quickly, her voice defensive with a note of embarrassment. “They’re clean.”

Joel bit back a smirk, eyes twinkling just slightly. “Didn’t say they weren’t.”

Joel’s fingers returned to the wires in front of him, deftly tightening a connection with the screwdriver. The soft metallic click filled the space between them before he glanced up, tone casual but carefully placed.

“So… how’s Dina doin’?”

Ellie blinked, caught off guard by the question. She fought the urge to fidget, already feeling the flush creep up her neck. “She’s… she’s alright,” she replied, trying for nonchalance and only halfway succeeding.

Joel gave a small nod, still fiddling with the wires as if his question had been purely mechanical, like flipping a switch. But there was a glint in his eye when he added, voice a shade too casual to be innocent, “That’s good. Folks around town were startin’ to get a little worried, y’know. Not seein’ either of your faces for a while.”

He glanced up, just in time to catch the way Ellie’s ears turned pink, the blush crawling higher across her cheeks.

“We weren’t gone that long,” she muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly interested in the scuff marks on the wooden floor.

Joel chuckled, the sound low and familiar as he twisted a wire between his fingers. “Long enough to make folks start wonderin’. And long enough for me to ask…” He gave her a glance over the rim of his brow, eyes half-lidded but soft. “Is Dina your girlfriend now?”

Ellie blinked at him, then gave a sheepish little smile, brushing her fingers over the back of her neck. “Yeah. Yeah, we talked. We, uh… we’re good.”

Joel nodded slowly, the smallest of proud smiles tugging at his mouth. “Glad to hear that. I like her. She’s sharp. Think she’s good for you.”

Ellie’s smile grew a little, warmth softening her guarded expression. “Yeah. I think so too.”

She glanced toward the hallway. “I’m gonna go grab a quick shower, if that’s cool.”

“‘Course,” Joel said, turning back to the work on the table.

But as Ellie turned to go, he stood up abruptly, wiping his hands on a rag. “Actually—uh, wait, kiddo. I had a question.”

Ellie paused, hand on the doorframe. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Joel hesitated for half a second—just long enough for Ellie to notice it. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “I know you and Dina are on patrol tomorrow, but I was wonderin’… for the weekend run, maybe you’d want to ride with me instead. Just me and you. Thought maybe… y’know, we could take the old trail. Like we used to.”

His words came out in a cautious tumble, not quite rushed, but uncertain in a way that made Ellie’s chest ache just a little.

She blinked at him, letting the offer settle. Joel looked like he was already preparing for her to say no—his hand still awkwardly at the back of his neck, eyes flicking away for a moment like he didn’t want to pressure her.

But then Ellie gave a small, quiet smile. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that.”

Joel let out a slow breath, nodding. “Alright. Great. That’s… great.”

They stood there in the silence for a beat, both of them awkward in the way only people trying to bridge a gap can be.

Ellie jabbed a thumb toward the hallway. “I’m gonna go shower now.”

Joel nodded quickly, stepping aside. “Yeah. ‘Course. Go on.”

She turned, leaving the room with that same quiet smile tugging at her lips, and Joel sat back down, that small flicker of hope still visible in his eyes as he returned to the tangle of wires.

---

The morning air was crisp, biting at Ellie’s cheeks as she stepped out into the snow-covered streets of Jackson. A thick blanket of white muted the usual sounds of the town—boots crunching softly instead of clattering, voices low and breathy against the cold. Frost clung to the edges of windows, curling like spiderwebs across the glass, and chimney smoke drifted lazily into the pale gray sky.

She tucked her hands deeper into her jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold as she walked. Wooden fences and rooftops sagged under the weight of fresh snow, and a few townsfolk were already up, shoveling paths or hauling firewood. Someone waved from their porch, a half-frozen cup of coffee in hand, and Ellie offered a small nod in return.

The stables stood quiet at the far edge of town, framed by the low silhouette of the mountains beyond. Steam curled from the noses of the horses inside, their breath thick in the cold air. The smell of hay and damp fur hit her as she approached, comforting in its familiarity. Snow clung to her boots as she stepped through the stable doors, the warmth inside a small but welcome relief from the chill.

Dina was already there when Ellie stepped through the stable doors, leaning casually against the wooden wall, arms crossed over her jacket, a soft grin curling at her lips. She looked warm despite the cold—cheeks flushed from the chill, curls tied back loosely beneath her beanie, and eyes locked onto Ellie with that familiar, easy affection.

“Hey, babe,” Dina greeted, her voice low and warm, the simple words making Ellie’s stomach flip as always.

Ellie felt her face heat up immediately, the cold air doing nothing to hide the blush that crept across her cheeks. “Hey,” she muttered, stuffing her gloved hands deeper into her pockets as she approached.

Dina didn’t wait—she leaned in for a kiss, her eyes already fluttering half-closed, but Ellie reflexively leaned back, glancing around. A stable hand was brushing down one of the horses nearby, and another settler walked past the open barn doors, arms full of supplies.

Dina froze, her mouth still slightly puckered, before pulling back with an exaggerated gasp of offense. “Did you just—pull away from me?” she asked, placing a hand over her chest as if mortally wounded.

Ellie fumbled for words, eyes darting nervously around the barn. “I—I didn’t pull away,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the low snort of a horse. “There’s… people.”

Dina didn’t miss a beat. Her tone flattened, utterly deadpan. “You do realize we made out in front of half the town on New Year’s, right?”

Ellie flushed deeper, scowling as she crossed her arms. “That was different,” she muttered. “We were both kinda drunk.”

Dina then gasped, staggering back a step like Ellie had physically struck her. “Oh my god,” she said, clutching her chest dramatically. “You’re embarrassed of me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, biting down a smile. “I didn’t say that.”

“I get it,” Dina continued, voice full of mock woe. “It must be hard. Being with someone this hot. The pressure. The constant stares. The jealousy.”

Ellie snorted. “Yeah, you’re a real hardship, Dina.”

Dina grinned, recovering from her fake heartbreak as she stepped in closer again, this time just nudging Ellie’s shoulder with her own. “I mean, I’d be overwhelmed too if I had to wake up next to all this every day.”

Ellie tilted her head, pretending to study her. “I dunno,” she said slowly, lips twitching. “It’s a lot of hair in the morning. And you steal the blankets.”

Dina gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “First of all, my hair is majestic. And second, I do not steal the blankets.”

“You cocoon yourself like a damn caterpillar,” Ellie said, slinging her bag higher onto her shoulder. “I woke up the other night with, like, three inches of sheet and a cold butt.”

Dina gave her a shameless once-over and smirked. “You have a cute butt, though.”

Ellie’s face immediately flushed, and she let out a groan, slinging her bag even higher onto her shoulder like it might shield her somehow. “Can you please stop talking about my butt?”

Dina hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her lips. “I just think it’s something the world should appreciate. Like, it’s practically a public service announcement.”

Ellie turned to give her a flat look, cheeks still tinged pink. “Dina.”

“Okay, okay,” Dina said, holding up both hands in surrender, her grin widening. “I’ll stop… on one condition.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “What.”

Dina stepped in close again, her voice dropping to a faux-serious whisper. “Kiss me.”

Ellie stared at her, caught between exasperation and reluctant amusement. “You’re impossible.”

Dina leaned in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You kiss me… or I’m telling everyone how exceptional your ass is. I will use that word.”

Ellie groaned and tilted her head back dramatically. “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would,” Dina said, smug. “I think they’d agree with me, too.”

“God, fine,” Ellie muttered, then glanced around one last time before grabbing Dina’s face and pressing a quick, warm kiss to her lips. She pulled back, lips still brushing hers as she murmured, “You’re such a pain.”

Dina grinned, eyes still half-lidded from the kiss. “Mmm. A lovable pain, though.”

Ellie shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a smile despite herself. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” Dina said, slipping her hand into Ellie’s and giving it a gentle squeeze as they started walking toward the horses. “Confidence levels are skyrocketing right now.”

“Dangerously inflated, more like,” Ellie muttered, but she didn’t let go.

They walked in comfortable sync, boots crunching softly in the snow-covered hay around the stable entrance. The horses snorted and shifted as they approached, the faint smell of straw and leather in the air.

“So,” Dina said casually, brushing her free hand over the flank of one of the horses, “we doing anything after patrol? Or should I pencil in more ass compliments for the evening?”

Ellie groaned, covering her face with her free hand. “Dina.”

“What?” Dina said innocently. “Just trying to make sure my girlfriend feels appreciated.”

Ellie let out a deep, dramatic sigh but didn’t bother with a comeback this time, just nudged Dina with her elbow as they stepped out into the crisp morning light. Snow crunched beneath their boots, and their breath plumed in the air like smoke as they approached the other patrol groups already gathering outside. Horses shifted restlessly in the cold, their tack jingling softly in the quiet.

“What route we got today?” Ellie asked, pulling her gloves tighter as her eyes scanned the small cluster of people and animals.

Dina glanced at a clipboard posted near the stable door and answered, “Creek trails again. We didn’t finish that stretch the other day.”

Ellie gave a short nod. “Right. Let’s finish it this time.”

She swung up onto Shimmer’s back with practiced ease, settling into the saddle as Dina did the same beside her. Shimmer snorted, her ears flicking at the sounds of boots and murmured conversation all around.

Jesse stood in the middle of the yard, hands planted firmly on his hips, his breath rising in the cold like a slow, steady stream. He scanned the group before calling out, “Alright, heads up—been more infected sightings the past couple days. Even the safer trails haven’t been all that safe lately. So I want everyone staying sharp.”

His eyes landed directly on Ellie and Dina. “That means no distractions. Eyes up. Radios on.”

Dina raised both eyebrows and saluted lazily. “Yes, Dad.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, but the edge of his mouth quirked into a grin. “You two are hilarious. Just stick to protocol. If it gets dicey, call in and come back. Don’t try to play hero.”

He tapped the side of his own radio for emphasis, then turned and gave a sharp gesture to the group. “Alright—open it up!”

The patrol gates creaked open, hinges groaning under the weight of cold and time. One by one, the horses filed out in pairs, their hooves thudding rhythmically against the frozen ground, muffled slightly by the fresh layer of snow that blanketed the trail. The soft murmur of good lucks and quiet chatter quickly faded behind them, replaced by the steady crunch of snow and the occasional snort from a horse’s flared nostrils.

Ellie gave Shimmer a soft nudge with her heels, and the mare responded with a quiet huff, falling into an easy pace beside Dina’s horse. Dina took the lead, her posture relaxed but alert, eyes scanning the path ahead. Jackson shrank behind them, its wall slowly swallowed by the trees and morning mist, becoming just a faint shape tucked into the valley—a quiet, distant memory.

The trail twisted alongside a narrow creek, the water still running beneath a film of thin ice, gurgling softly under the weight of winter. Bare branches stretched overhead like reaching fingers, snow gathered in their crooks, occasionally drifting down in lazy flurries with the soft whisper of wind. Their horses moved with practiced ease, stepping carefully over half-buried roots and patches of ice glazed like glass across the dirt trail.

Ellie adjusted her grip on the reins, casting a glance toward Dina up ahead. Her breath curled in the air like smoke, eyes flicking from treetops to trail with a quiet attentiveness Ellie had always admired. She didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. The silence between them was comfortable, a shared rhythm in the still of the woods.

The soft sounds of hooves crunching through snow filled the quiet between them, broken only by the distant call of a crow and the whisper of wind through brittle trees. Ellie let her gaze wander—branches bare and black against the pale sky, ice-glazed rocks catching little flares of light along the creek’s edge.

Dina’s voice drifted back, casual but teasing. “So, I heard through the grapevine—you and Joel are going out on patrol together this weekend. The Baird route?”

Ellie lifted a brow, shifting in her saddle. “Yeah. He asked. Thought it’d be… nice, I guess. Like old times.”

Dina twisted slightly in her saddle to glance back at her, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You haven’t grown tired of me already, have you?”

Ellie snorted, catching the glint in Dina’s eyes. “Maybe a little bit.”

Dina gasped dramatically, hand flying to her chest. “Wow. That didn’t seem to be the case when your tongue was buried in my—”

“Okay!” Ellie cut in, her voice sharp with embarrassment, cheeks instantly flushed as she sat up straighter in the saddle. “Jesus, Dina.”

Dina’s laugh rang out bright and shameless, echoing between the trees. “What? I’m just saying. Doesn’t sound like someone who’s tired of me.”

Ellie groaned, tugging her jacket up higher as if she could bury herself in it completely. “God, I hate you,” she muttered, voice muffled but laced with affection.

Dina, still grinning, turned just enough in the saddle to throw a wink over her shoulder. “No you don’t.”

“Yes I do,” Ellie shot back, narrowing her eyes.

“Nope.” Dina’s reply was smug and immediate.

“I do,” Ellie insisted, nudging Shimmer forward until they were riding side by side. She cast Dina a sideways glance, her face still flushed. “I hate you.”

Dina hummed thoughtfully, her breath visible in the crisp air. “Nah. You love me.”

There was a beat of quiet. Snow crunched under hooves. Trees passed in a blur of bare limbs and white.

Ellie sighed softly, lips twitching despite herself. “Yeah,” she said, voice quieter now. “I do.”

Dina glanced at her, expression softening instantly. “I love you too.”

They rode on in comfortable silence until the silhouette of the old radio tower came into view, its rusted metal frame standing stark against the pale sky. Dina guided their horses toward the weathered wooden fence surrounding the base, expertly untying her reins and looping them securely to a post. Ellie mirrored her movements, her fingers lingering on Shimmer’s mane before she stepped away, following Dina’s confident stride toward the tower’s entrance.

Inside, the air was cold and smelled faintly of rust and old grease. Snow sifted in through cracks in the floorboards. Dina moved straight to the thick rope coiled beside the narrow missing stairwell, giving it a firm tug. The rope swayed steadily—a good sign.

Without hesitation, Dina looped the rope around her hand and began her climb, muscles flexing with each deliberate pull upward. Ellie watched her for a moment, then secured the rope herself, placing her feet carefully on the worn wall as she followed. The creak of the tower echoed softly beneath them, but the quiet was familiar and strangely comforting. Together, they ascended into the shadowy upper level, where the view stretched wide across the frost-covered treetops.

Ellie took in the crisp air, the sky a pale wash of morning light spilling through the broken windows. The tower’s small platform was cluttered with old equipment and a weathered logbook resting on a rusty metal table. Dina nudged her gently. “Sign us in,” she said with a sly smile.

Ellie nodded, stepping over to the logbook. She flipped it open, grabbed the nearest pen, and quickly scribbled their names side by side—Ellie and Dina—just like they belonged there. As she closed the book, Dina’s voice broke through, low and teasing. “You sign us in?”

Ellie looked up and met Dina’s eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” Dina murmured before suddenly pouncing, catching Ellie off guard. Ellie gasped, a surprised moan slipping out as Dina’s lips found hers fiercely. Ellie didn’t hesitate long before returning the kiss, her arms wrapping tightly around Dina’s neck as they pressed close, the cold wind outside forgotten in the warmth they shared.

Dina’s hands slid down to Ellie’s belt, fingers fumbling eagerly at the buckle. Ellie pulled back abruptly, eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, half-laughing in disbelief.

Dina grinned mischievously. “Trying to have sex,” she said simply, her voice low and teasing.

Ellie shook her head, laughter bubbling up. “Didn’t Jesse say to not get distracted on patrol?”

Dina rolled her eyes, her smile never fading. “Jesse’s not here,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss Ellie again, soft and urgent. “And I’ve been thinking about this all morning.” The warmth of her breath sent a shiver down Ellie’s spine as she melted back into the kiss.

Ellie’s hands found Dina’s waist, pulling her closer with a low hum, the taste of her still lingering from earlier that morning. The cold air of the tower bit at their skin, but it was lost beneath the growing heat between them.

“You’re insatiable,” Ellie murmured against Dina’s lips, her voice breathless, half-teasing.

Dina smiled into the kiss, fingers slipping under the hem of Ellie’s shirt to touch warm skin. “You love it.”

Ellie let out a shaky breath as she felt Dina press closer, their bodies fitting together in the quiet, dust-laced room above the world. Snow drifted outside the broken windows, the pale light casting soft shadows as Dina guided them down onto the makeshift bedding tucked in the corner of the lookout.

Their clothing was soon peeled away, discarded onto the lookout's floor, leaving them bare and vulnerable to the chill air. Ellie's hands roamed Dina's body, tracing the curves and lines of her form with a hungry intensity. The blanket on top of them offered scant protection from the cold, but the heat of their bodies intertwined more than made up for it.

Ellie kissed along Dina’s throat, her lips soft and insistent, eliciting a sigh that turned into a moan as she sucked gently at the sensitive skin. Dina's hands explored Ellie's body with equal fervor, her touch sending shivers down Ellie's spine. When Dina's hand ventured lower, slipping between Ellie’s thighs, Ellie let out a gasp. Dina's fingers found Ellie's cock, already hard and aching with need. She wrapped her hand around it, stroking gently before tugging it towards her entrance.

"Fuck me, Ellie," Dina whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. "I need you inside me."

Ellie positioned herself at Dina's entrance, the head of her cock pressing against Dina's wetness. She pushed in slowly, inch by inch, feeling Dina's tight heat envelop her. Dina let out a low moan, her nails digging into Ellie's back, urging her deeper. The room filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and the soft, wet noises of their bodies joining.

Ellie began to pump her hips with a deliberate, steady rhythm, each thrust driving her deeper into Dina. She kissed along her lover’s throat, tasting the salt of her sweat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her lips. With each inward stroke, Ellie pushed herself to the hilt, their bodies joining completely, the sensation overwhelming and intense. She could feel every inch of Dina, the heat, the wetness, the tightness, all enveloping her cock completely.

Dina sighed deeply with each movement, her breath hitching as Ellie hit all the right spots. Her eyes fluttered closed, losing herself in the sensation, in the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through her veins. "Go faster," Dina whispered, her voice a husky plea. "Fuck me faster, Ellie."

Ellie listened, her hips moving with a newfound urgency. She pumped faster than before, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing through the room, a wet, slapping rhythm that matched the pounding of their hearts. Each thrust was deeper, more intense, driving them both closer to the edge.

"Yes, like that," Dina gasped, her body arching to meet Ellie's thrusts. "Don't stop, Ellie."

Ellie continued to pump her hips, slightly angling them to hit that perfect spot inside Dina. She knew she had found it when Dina's eyes rolled back, her back arching off the makeshift bed, and her nails dug deeper into Ellie’s shoulder, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. "Right there," Dina moaned. "You're hitting that spot, Ellie. Right fucking there."

Ellie listened, her hips maintaining that perfect angle, hitting that sweet spot with each thrust. Dina's moans turned to cries, her body writhing beneath Ellie, her legs trembling. "Don't stop," Dina panted. "Keep hitting that spot. I'm so close, Ellie. So fucking close."

Ellie reached between their bodies, her fingers finding Dina's clit, rubbing it in tight, quick circles, matching the pace of her hips. Dina's body responded immediately, her inner muscles clenching and unclenching, drawing Ellie deeper, urging her on. The room was filled with the sounds of their pleasure, the wet noises of their joining, the desperate moans and cries, the heady scent of sex and sweat.

Dina's body tensed, her orgasm building, coiling tight and ready to explode. "I'm coming, Ellie," she cried out, her voice hoarse, her body shaking. "I'm coming all over your cock."

Her walls clenched around Ellie’s length, gripping her tightly as if refusing to let go. Dina's eyes rolled back, her mouth agape in a silent scream as she let out a deep, guttural moan, falling over the edge into pure bliss.

Ellie looked down between their bodies, watching as Dina’s juices spilled out, drenching her cock in a flood of wetness. The sight and the sensation sent a shiver down Ellie's spine, her own orgasm within reach. She picked up her hips pace, driving into Dina with renewed vigor, each thrust deliberate and deep.

"Fuck, Dina," Ellie panted, her voice strained with effort and pleasure.

With a final, powerful thrust, Ellie rammed herself to the hilt, holding deep as she spilled inside Dina, her low groan mixing with Dina's continued moans of pleasure. Their bodies shook and trembled, riding out the waves of their mutual orgasm, their breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

Ellie collapsed onto Dina’s chest, their bodies still tangled and warm beneath the soft light filtering through the cracks in the tower walls. Dina didn’t hesitate—her arms wrapped around Ellie immediately, protective and grounding, fingers sliding gently through the damp strands of Ellie’s hair.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Just the sound of their breathing filled the space—slow, uneven, coming down from the high they had shared.

Ellie let out a soft, content sigh, her cheek pressed to the rise and fall of Dina’s chest. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” she murmured, her voice muffled and thick with exhaustion.

Dina chuckled, low and fond. “Pretty good way to go.”

Ellie let out a lazy hum against her chest, arms still loosely draped around Dina’s waist. “Don’t wanna get up,” she mumbled, voice muffled and thick with sleep.

Dina laughed softly, brushing her fingers through Ellie’s tangled hair again. “Yeah? And what, we just hole up here forever?”

“Could be nice,” Ellie grumbled, nuzzling deeper into her. “Plenty of roof. No Jesse yelling at us. No snow in my boots.”

Dina rolled her eyes with a smile, affection written all over her face. “We still have to finish the patrol, remember? Infected? Scouting routes? Ringing any bells?”

“You’re cruel,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.

Dina laughed, the sound soft and teasing as she gently rolled Ellie off her, the blanket slipping down in the process. She stood, stretching her arms above her head with a pleased sigh before grabbing her underwear and stepping into it, then reached for her jeans. “Come on, sleepyhead,” she said, pulling them on and glancing over her shoulder.

She picked up a few scattered articles of clothing and tossed Ellie’s underwear and shirt toward her with a smirk. “Get dressed before you fall asleep for real.”

Ellie peeked out from under her arm, watching as Dina fastened her belt. “I feel used,” she mumbled, not moving.

Dina snorted. “Used?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, dragging the shirt toward her and slipping it over her head without much urgency. “You’re treating me like some… some common whore.”

That made Dina burst out laughing. She turned, one boot in hand, shaking her head. “Oh my god, Ellie.”

“I mean it,” Ellie said, sitting up slowly and rubbing at her eyes. “All that sweet talk, then you get your way and start throwing clothes at me.”

Dina gave a low, thoughtful hum as she tugged on her jacket, tossing Ellie a mischievous glance over her shoulder. “You know what? You’re right.”

Ellie blinked, pulling her jeans up one leg at a time. “Wait—what?”

“You are my whore,” Dina said, matter-of-fact, like she was confirming the weather. She slipped her arms through her sleeves and smoothed the coat down. “My favorite one. Very loyal. Pretty mouth. Excellent customer service.”

Ellie choked on a laugh, nearly losing her balance as she yanked her pants the rest of the way up. “What the hell, Dina?”

“What?” Dina said innocently, biting back a grin. “You said it. I’m just agreeing.”

“I didn’t mean it literally!”

Dina shrugged as she clipped her holster in place. “Too late. You said it. It’s offical now.”

Ellie groaned, pulling her coat on and trying to hide the growing smile tugging at her mouth. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet,” Dina said, stepping close and giving her a smug little kiss, “you keep crawling back.”

Ellie grumbled under her breath as she pulled her backpack on. “This is what I get for dating someone with a superiority complex.”

Dina smirked. “No. This is what you get for falling for someone hot and funny. It’s a burden, I know.”

Ellie let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Yeah, it is a burden. A heavy, sexy, smug little burden.”

Dina grinned, clearly pleased with herself, and leaned in close. Her lips brushed Ellie’s in a kiss that was soft but teasing, the kind that left Ellie just a little breathless before it was over. “We’ve gotta finish the trail,” Dina murmured against her lips, her tone all business but her eyes anything but.

Ellie blinked, still half caught in the kiss. “You gonna jump me again?” she asked, trying for casual but failing miserably.

Dina hummed as she stepped back, already heading toward the exit of the tower. “Maybe,” she called over her shoulder, her voice light and sing-song.

Ellie scoffed, grabbing the last of her gear as she trailed behind. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, though the smile on her face betrayed her. Snow and silence waited outside, but the warmth between them lingered like an echo.

---

The muffled rhythm of hooves against packed snow filled the quiet between them as Ellie and Dina rode side by side through the outskirts of the abandoned town, frost clinging to the edges of old mailboxes and crumbling rooftops. The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the trees, casting long, pale shadows across the trail ahead.

“So…” Dina broke the silence, casual as ever. “Am I a better kisser?”

Ellie groaned, her breath fogging the air as she gave Dina a sidelong look. “I’m not answering that.”

Dina grinned like a cat who’d cornered a mouse. “Okay, but I’m definitely the better kisser, right?”

Ellie groaned, louder this time, the sound of it carrying on the crisp air. “Jesus, Dina, I said I’m not answering.”

Dina nudged her horse a little closer, her tone all mock innocence. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it out loud. I already know. Superior technique, soft hands, just the right amount of pressure—”

“Oh my God,” Ellie muttered, covering her face with one gloved hand. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“But I’m right,” Dina sing-songed, kicking a bit of snow with the tip of her boot. “And don’t worry—I won’t tell Cat. I’ll just quietly bask in the fact that I’m the superior kisser.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh yeah? Well, was I a better kisser than Jesse?”

Dina didn’t even blink. “Absolutely.”

Ellie gaped. “Wait—what?”

“What?” Dina shot her a look like duh. “You asked. I answered.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually answer!”

“Why not?” Dina shrugged, ever unfazed. “It’s the truth. Jesse is sweet and all, but he used way too much tongue. Like… way too much. I felt like I was being attacked.”

Ellie snorted, almost losing her balance in the saddle from laughing. “Jesus. Poor Jesse.”

Dina grinned, smug and unrepentant. “He’s fine. He’s got good cheekbones and a winning personality. Just… not so much finesse.”

Ellie shook her head, a grin still ghosting on her lips—right up until she spotted it.

A sharp smear of red against the otherwise pristine snow.

She reined Shimmer to a slow halt, eyes narrowing. “Hold up.”

Dina followed suit, her expression turning serious as she turned to follow Ellie’s gaze. The trail of blood dragged erratically through the snow, broken up by heavy hoofprints and deep gouges in the ice. Without needing to say a word, the two of them exchanged a look—a silent conversation.

They dismounted quickly, boots crunching against the snow as they moved forward, weapons unshouldered and eyes scanning the trees. The trail led them off the main path, down a small embankment and into a gully dusted with fresh powder.

Then they saw it.

A moose—massive and mutilated—was splayed across the snow, its body torn open, steam still faintly rising from the exposed innards. Blood stained the snow in wide arcs, and around the carcass lay the mangled remains of at least three infected, limbs twisted and frozen mid-reach.

“Jesus,” Ellie muttered, stepping closer with her rifle lowered but ready. “You think the moose put up a fight?”

“Had to have,” Dina replied, voice low. She crouched beside one of the infected, eyes scanning the gashes across its torso. “That, or it got caught up in the middle of something else.”

Ellie walked a few steps farther, her gaze drifting to the snow just beyond the moose. Her eyes caught the glint of brass half-buried near a bloody bootprint. She crouched, brushing snow away with her fingers until she revealed a spent shell casing—then another, and another.

“These didn’t go down on their own,” Ellie said grimly. “Someone else was here. Took them out.”

Dina stood, her hand tightening on her rifle. “Recently?”

Ellie crouched beside the prints, her fingers brushing lightly across the packed snow. The edges were still crisp, not yet softened by wind or falling flakes. “Could be a couple hours old, maybe less,” she murmured, eyes narrowing. “Not fresh-fresh, but not stale either.”

Dina shifted beside her, rifle steady in her hands. “You think it was someone just passing through?”

Ellie stood slowly, wiping her glove on her jacket. “Could be. Prints lead off into the woods, though—doesn’t look like they were in a rush. No drag marks either.”

Dina stepped up beside her, eyes following the trail. “No infected left alive. Moose didn’t get finished off either. It’s weird.”

Ellie nodded, her brow furrowed. “And it’s not just one person.”

She gestured at the tracks, pointing at the variation in size and depth. “Look—different treads, spacing. These boots are way smaller than the others.”

Dina knelt down to get a closer look, scanning the snow with a sharp eye. “One… two… three… yeah, five. Five people.”

Ellie nodded again, lips pressed into a thin line. “Some of ’em heavier. Maybe carrying packs.”

Dina let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of people to be traveling this close to Jackson without pinging anyone on lookout.”

“We’ll have to report it once we get back,” Ellie said, already mentally piecing the route together.

Dina adjusted the strap on her rifle, glancing toward the darkened tree line. “You think they’re refugees? Or maybe traders?”

Ellie gave a small shrug, gaze still focused. “Could be either. That caravan rolled through last week, remember? Brought in all that canned fruit and those busted radios. Maybe word got around. Could be more folks trying to barter.”

Dina exhaled slowly, her breath fogging the cold air. “Yeah… maybe.”

But the doubt was clear in her voice. She stared into the trees, eyes narrowing slightly. “I just don’t get why they’d go off-path. The main route’s marked, cleared. Why risk it?”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. She took a step forward, squinting into the woods. The trees were thick up ahead—tall pines, dense brush, shadows deeper than they should’ve been for mid-afternoon.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “It’s weird. Even if they were hunting, there’s easier trails to follow.”

She glanced back at the torn-up moose, the half-buried shell casings glittering in the snow like tiny warnings.

“Too quiet,” Ellie added under her breath, hand instinctively brushing the hilt of her knife. “Let’s finish our sweep. Then we head back and report.”

Dina gave a short nod, already turning back to her horse. “Right behind you.”

Ellie lingered for just a second longer, eyes sweeping over the bloody snow, the scattered infected, and the fading trail of boot prints that disappeared into the trees. Something about it didn’t sit right—the precision of the shots, the direction of the tracks. Whoever had come through here wasn’t just passing by. They had a purpose.

She mounted Shimmer quickly, glancing over to see Dina doing the same, her expression just as tense. No more jokes, no teasing now—both of them settled into a quiet, alert rhythm as they rode away from the scene.

The wind picked up as they continued the patrol, slicing through the trees and stirring the fresh snowfall into thin, ghostlike spirals across the trail. Ellie’s fingers tightened on the reins, her eyes scanning every break in the brush, every distant rustle.

They didn’t speak much after that, both locked into that familiar, silent language of survival. Whatever was waiting out there—refugee, trader, or something worse—they’d seen enough to know caution was never optional.

---

The old Jackson courthouse still carried the bones of what it used to be—sturdy brick walls, long-abandoned law books gathering dust on high shelves, and a faded seal of justice carved into the stone above the entryway. But these days, it served a different kind of order.

Ellie sat stiffly in a wooden chair near the center of the room, Dina at her side, both of them angled just below the large, round table where the council sat. The table looked like it had been salvaged from a school, mismatched in tone and marred with nicks and water stains. Behind it sat the familiar faces of the Jackson leadership—Tommy and Maria included—each one watching them with the calm, measured patience of people used to hearing bad news.

The room itself was cold, the tall windows letting in shafts of weak, winter light. Dust floated in the beams, and the scent of old paper and faint mildew clung to the air. Ellie had always hated coming in here. Something about the place made her skin crawl. Maybe it was the silence. Or maybe it was how the layout reminded her of the FEDRA interrogation halls back in Boston—the way the soldiers would line up behind desks, armed with clipboards and questions, asking about stolen rations or curfew slips like they were life-or-death crimes.

This felt too much like that. Like they were on trial, even if no one had said it aloud.

Ellie shifted in her chair, hands resting on her thighs as she stared ahead, jaw clenched. Dina’s arm was barely brushing hers, steady, warm—anchoring.

She hated being here. But she also knew why they had to be.

Maria sat at the center of the round table, spine straight, hands folded neatly in front of her. Her dark eyes flicked between Ellie and Dina with a kind of precise intensity that made Ellie want to squirm in her seat. Tommy sat just to her right, leaning back a little more casually, arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he was trying not to smirk.

“What did you two see out there?” Maria asked, her voice clear and even, though the question had an edge of expectation behind it.

Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, her shoulders tensing. “I already told you—”

Maria arched a brow.

Ellie cut herself off, dragging her hand down her face in frustration. Tommy coughed quietly, trying—failing—not to smile, and Dina gently placed a hand on Ellie’s thigh, grounding her.

“I’ve got it,” Dina said smoothly, glancing at Ellie before turning her attention back to the council. “We were heading through the last leg of our patrol—northwest side of the creek trail. Everything was normal until we spotted blood in the snow.”

Maria nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“We followed the trail and found a moose carcass torn apart, with several infected bodies scattered nearby. Looked like a fight, but none of them had fighting marks. Bullet wounds, mostly.” Dina’s voice was steady, matter-of-fact.

Tommy leaned forward slightly, exchanging a look with Maria. “Fresh?”

Dina nodded. “Yeah. Ellie checked the shells. Prints were still sharp in the snow. Couldn’t have been more than a few hours.”

Maria’s brow furrowed. “Did you follow the tracks?”

Ellie spoke up now, tone more controlled. “To the tree line, yeah. They disappeared into the woods. Looked like five people. Different boot sizes, different gaits—too organized to be random stragglers.”

Maria sat back, thoughtful. Her fingers tapped against the edge of the table.

“Could be traders,” Tommy offered, glancing her way. “We had that caravan swing through last week. Maybe they’ve got more coming behind.”

“Maybe,” Maria said. “But traders don’t usually go off-path like that.”

Ellie nodded. “Exactly what we thought. It’s weird.”

Dina leaned forward a little. “We figured we’d finish the sweep, report back, and let you guys decide what comes next.”

Maria was quiet for a beat, eyes scanning their faces. Then, finally, she gave a slow nod. “Alright. We’ll send out a team to track from where you left off, see if we can find anything. Good work.”

Ellie didn’t relax, not entirely, but the weight in her chest lightened just a bit. She felt Dina squeeze her thigh once, a subtle reassurance.

“Let’s just hope they’re friendly,” Tommy muttered.

“Or smart enough to keep moving,” Maria added.

Ellie shifted in her seat, already half-turned toward the door when she muttered, “Can we go now?” She thumbed over her shoulder in a motion toward the exit, her expression deadpan.

Maria huffed a quiet chuckle, something dry but not unkind. “Yeah, you’re free to go.”

“Thank God,” Ellie breathed, already rising to her feet. The chair scraped softly against the old tiled floor as she stood and stretched her legs.

Dina was right behind her, standing with a smooth motion and tossing a quick, polite nod toward the council before following Ellie out. The heavy double doors creaked open, spilling warm light from the hallway into the somber courtroom as the two of them stepped through and let the doors close behind them.

Outside the chamber, the air felt lighter. Less stiff. Ellie rolled her shoulders with a grunt. “Swear to God, I think those chairs are meant to make you confess just from spinal pain.”

Dina bumped her lightly with her shoulder as they walked. “You were about five seconds away from throwing something.”

Ellie snorted. “Wasn’t gonna throw anything. Maybe just… flip the table a little.”

Dina grinned. “So restrained.”

Before Ellie could fire back another sarcastic retort, a familiar voice called out from farther down the street.

“Ellie!”

She turned to see Joel approaching from the south end of the block, his stride brisk, face taut with concern that eased only slightly when he saw her and Dina both upright and unharmed. Snow crunched under his boots as he closed the distance, his coat dusted with flecks of white and a pair of work gloves shoved hastily into his pocket.

“You two alright?” he asked, gaze bouncing between them.

Ellie nodded, brushing a hand through her hair. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

Joel exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. “Was working on one of the old houses near the southern district when someone said y’all got hauled into the council building.” His brow creased again. “What happened?”

Dina stepped in helpfully, “Found a moose, torn up bad. Dead infected around it, bullet holes in all of them. Looked like someone else had taken them out before we got there.”

Joel frowned, lips pressing into a line. “You report the tracks?”

Ellie nodded again. “Five sets. All headed into the trees. Could be refugees. Could be traders. Maria wanted the full debrief.”

Joel’s brows rose slightly. “Really needed a council meeting for that?”

Ellie threw her hands up, vindicated. “That’s what I said!”

Joel huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess they’re just being careful.”

“Overly careful,” Ellie muttered.

Dina, still standing close at Ellie’s side, nudged her arm lightly and added with a grin, “She behaved, mostly.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?”

“She only almost flipped the table,” Dina said dryly.

Joel gave Ellie a knowing look. “Progress.”

The breeze rustled softly through the snow-dusted trees lining the street, and for a moment, the three of them just stood there—boots sunk into the slush, breath fogging in the crisp late afternoon air. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, just lingering, like none of them quite knew how to move on from the day.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture Ellie had seen a thousand times before. “Well… since I’ve got the both of you here, figured I’d extend an invitation. Thought maybe you’d come by for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Ellie raised a skeptical brow, shifting her weight onto one foot. “Like… actual dinner?”

Joel nodded. “Yeah. I can cook for y’all.”

Ellie let out a sharp scoff, half-laugh. “Joel, you can’t cook.”

Joel blinked at her, clearly offended. “The hell I can’t.”

“The only thing I’ve ever seen you make is beans over a fire. In the middle of the forest. With a stick.”

Joel’s mouth opened to defend himself, hands gesturing as if to prove some culinary expertise. “I can cook,” he insisted, pointing a finger at her. “You just ain’t had the good stuff.”

“Oh yeah? What, like… gourmet squirrel?” Ellie teased.

Before the banter could escalate, Dina stepped in smoothly, one hand finding Ellie’s. “We’ll be there,” she said with a smile, cutting off Ellie’s next remark.

Ellie turned to her, startled. “Wait—”

“And so will Ellie,” Dina added, not missing a beat.

Joel’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth lifting in the faintest smile. “Alright then. I’ll see you both tonight.”

As he turned and started walking off, Ellie narrowed her eyes at Dina. “You just signed me up for Joel’s probably-questionable cooking.”

Dina grinned, unrepentant. “Hey, you love a gamble.”

Ellie scoffed again, the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to smile. She didn’t say anything, just shook her head slightly, the cold breeze ruffling her hair as she watched Joel disappear down the block.

Dina reached over and laced their fingers together, tugging Ellie gently forward. “C’mon.”

Ellie let herself be pulled, casting her a sideways glance. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” Dina said breezily, squeezing her hand.

Ellie squinted. “What, to watch a movie or something?”

Dina gave a short laugh, her tone playfully exasperated. “Actually,” she said, tilting her head toward Ellie with a smirk, “I was planning on riding you into the mattress. But if you’d rather watch a movie…”

Ellie’s steps faltered, color blooming fast across her cheeks. “Jesus, Dina,” she muttered, glancing around even though the street was mostly empty.

“What?” Dina said innocently, already tugging her faster. “You brought up the movie.”

Ellie’s voice dropped, flustered and slightly breathless. “No, no, movie sounds great. Real great.”

Dina laughed, her smile mischievous and warm. “That’s what I thought.”

And with their fingers still linked and Ellie’s blush refusing to fade, she led them down the street, snow crunching beneath their boots as they made their way toward Dina’s home—hearts lighter, steps quicker, and the rest of the day theirs.

---

The soft hiss of gas accompanied the click of the old stove as Joel turned the knob, squinting slightly at the stubborn flame before it finally caught. A low whoosh filled the quiet kitchen. He exhaled through his nose, leaning back a little as he rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans, eyes scanning the few ingredients he’d laid out. A battered cast iron pan rested on the burner, already warm, a thin sheen of oil glinting in the amber kitchen light.

It had been a long time since he’d cooked a proper meal—really cooked. Not beans out of a can over a campfire, not dried meat and stale bread eaten on the road. A real, hot meal. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was making yet—something between a stew and a skillet hash—but he figured as long as it was warm and edible, it’d do. The last time he’d cooked like this… well, it had been years. Not since Sarah. That thought alone made his chest ache in a quiet, familiar way. His hands paused over the cutting board, stilling over a potato halfway through being chopped.

Then the front door creaked open, its hinges groaning just slightly. He heard the soft thump of boots, the whisper of snow being shaken from jackets. A moment later, Ellie’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Joel?”

He straightened a little, glancing over his shoulder. “In the kitchen,” he called back. “Just finishing up. Y’all go ahead and take a seat.”

He heard the scrape of chairs against the wood floor, the muffled laugh of a second voice—lighter, teasing. Dina. He figured as much. Their footsteps were easy to recognize now, even distinct from one another. Ellie’s steps always a little heavy, like she was trying not to be, and Dina’s more relaxed, like she owned whatever space she walked into.

Joel went back to his pan, dropping the diced potatoes in with a sizzle and giving them a stir. The smell of sautéing onions and spices had begun to fill the air, something savory and nostalgic creeping into the warm corners of the small home. He had even taken the time to set the table—nothing fancy, just a clean cloth, a few plates, and actual silverware for once. It wasn’t much, but it felt like something.

He could hear them talking low in the other room, words indistinct, but voices full of easy rhythm and inside jokes. Joel felt that quiet ache in his chest again—less sharp this time, more like something bittersweet. Something warm.

He wiped his hands on a dishtowel, turned the heat down a bit, and glanced toward the doorway where their silhouettes moved in the flickering firelight from the living room.

“Hope y’all came hungry,” he called. “It’s not exactly five-star, but it ain’t just beans over a fire neither.”

Ellie tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Is it edible?” she called, loud enough to carry.

Joel didn’t even turn around as he stirred the sizzling contents of the pan. “’Course it’s edible,” he grumbled. Then, quieter, almost to himself, “Smart-ass.”

“I heard that!” Ellie shouted back.

“Good,” Joel answered, lifting the pan slightly to give the potatoes and meat another turn, the scent of garlic and browned seasoning rising up to meet him. The heat from the stove warmed his face, but it was the voices in the next room—familiar, alive—that softened the sharp edge of his features.

“Just a few more minutes,” he called, reaching for a tin of salt. “Try not to starve out there while I work my culinary magic.”

“More like black magic,” Ellie muttered, earning a snort from Dina.

Joel didn’t bother replying. He just smiled faintly to himself, added a final handful of herbs from a paper-wrapped bundle, and covered the pan. He wasn’t sure if the meal would impress anyone, but something about this—cooking for someone else, hearing laughter in his home again—felt good. Felt right.

Even if the kid was a damn smart-ass.

Joel let the pan sit for a final moment on the stove before turning off the burner and carefully portioning out the food onto three plates. It wasn’t fancy—pan-seared venison, fried potatoes with some foraged herbs Maria had dried and packed away, and a side of roasted carrots that looked a little more wrinkled than fresh. But it smelled good. He hadn’t lost his touch entirely.

Balancing two plates in his hands and nudging the third along with his elbow, he made his way to the dining table. The wood was scuffed from years of use, and one leg wobbled if you leaned too hard on it, but Joel had lit the old hurricane lantern at the center, its soft amber glow making the place feel warmer, almost inviting. He set the plates down carefully, adjusting their position with a kind of unspoken pride, then turned his head toward the living room.

“Alright,” he called, wiping his hands on the dish towel slung over his shoulder. “Come on, food’s up.”

Ellie and Dina rose from the couch, still chuckling about something Joel didn’t quite catch. As they made their way over, Joel stood behind one of the chairs, nodding for them to sit. “Go on. Before it gets cold.”

Dina plopped down first, brushing her hair behind her ear as she eyed the plate with polite curiosity. Ellie took the seat beside her, opposite Joel, dragging the chair closer with a screech against the floorboards.

“What is it, exactly?” Ellie asked, squinting suspiciously down at the contents of her plate.

Joel lowered himself into his seat with a grunt, picking up his fork. “Food,” he said, entirely deadpan, then stabbed a piece of meat and took a bite. “And damn fine food, if I do say so myself.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “That’s real specific,” she muttered, but dug her fork into the potatoes anyway. She brought it to her mouth cautiously, like she half-expected it to fight back. Then she chewed. And her brows rose a little higher.

“…Okay,” she said, mouth half-full. “Ain’t bad.”

Joel didn’t even try to hide his smug grin. “Told you.”

Dina leaned forward, taking a bite of her own, then gave Joel an approving nod. “Alright, this is actually good. Like, good good.”

Joel waved a hand, feigning modesty. “It’s just basics. Learned how to make a meal stretch back in the day. Still know my way around a skillet.”

Ellie pointed her fork at him, eyes narrowed. “So you do know how to cook. Why the hell were we eating beans out of cans for months?”

Joel leaned back in his chair, sipping water from a chipped ceramic mug. “Because, kiddo… you try lugging a whole spice rack through the woods sometime.”

Ellie groaned. “That’s not an excuse.”

The time soon passed, the fire in the fireplace crackled gently in the background, casting a soft glow across the home as the plates slowly emptied and the mugs refilled—tea, water, a splash of whiskey in Joel’s. The conversation had flowed easily over the past hour, shifting from teasing jabs to casual stories to outright laughter. It wasn’t often that Joel let himself relax, but something about having both of them here—Ellie smiling so wide she practically glowed, Dina with her quick wit and easy charm—made the evening feel lighter than most.

Joel leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely as he chuckled at something Ellie had said about Jackson’s overzealous chicken population. Dina had her elbows on the table, a half-full mug in her hands as she launched into another story.

“So, my older sister and I—Leila—we were maybe, I don’t know, thirteen and eight?” Dina said, grinning already. “We decided to make perfume using flowers from our mom’s garden. Real innocent. But we didn’t stop at flowers. We added… like, dirt, mashed-up berries, some weird mold we thought looked ‘fancy’… and then poured the whole thing into one of our mom’s empty wine bottles.”

Joel raised a brow. “That sounds like poison.”

Ellie snorted. “I’m shocked you survived.”

“Oh, we survived,” Dina said, laughing. “Our mom, though? Nearly had a heart attack when we came out smelling like fermented fruit salad and told her we were starting a ‘business.’”

Joel let out a real laugh—low and genuine. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw it. The flicker across Dina’s face. That second where her smile faltered, her fingers tightening slightly around the mug. Across the table, Ellie shifted, her expression tightening, almost instinctive.

“Joel,” Ellie said quietly, a subtle warning in her tone. Her hand brushed against Dina’s under the table.

But Dina lifted her head again, her voice softer now. “No. It’s okay.”

There was a small silence as she glanced down at her wrist, brushing her thumb over the thin, woven bracelet tied there—old but clearly well cared for.

“She passed. Long time ago,” Dina said, meeting Joel’s eyes. “Before Jackson. Before a lot of things.”

Joel’s smile faded, replaced by something quieter. Gentler. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. His voice was lower now, not out of awkwardness but reverence. “I know what that kind of loss feels like.”

Dina nodded slowly. “Thanks.” She held up the wrist with the bracelet. “She gave this when we were still kids. I’ve kept it ever since. So, she’s still around. Just… in a different way.”

Ellie glanced over, studying Dina with a tenderness she didn’t try to hide. Joel followed that look, something tightening in his chest—but not with pain this time. It was the ache of recognition, of seeing two people who had managed to hold onto something good in a world where good things rarely lasted.

He nodded again, quieter now. “She’d be proud of you.”

Dina smiled, a real one this time. “Yeah. I like to think so.”

Joel cleared his throat, shifting in his chair as he scratched thoughtfully at his beard. “Well,” he said, glancing between the two girls, “you two wanna watch a movie or somethin’? I got a few that don’t skip too bad.”

Ellie and Dina exchanged a quick look—one of those wordless, silent exchanges they’d gotten good at. Dina smiled and answered for them both, leaning forward with a nod. “We’d love that.”

Joel’s mouth tugged into a crooked smile. He pushed up from the table with a groan, bones creaking audibly as he stretched his back. “Gonna regret gettin’ old one day,” he muttered.

“Just don’t throw your back out on the way to the couch, old man,” Ellie said, grinning as she leaned back in her chair.

He shot her a narrowed glance over his shoulder. “Smart-ass.”

Ellie smirked as Dina chuckled beside her. Joel began gathering the plates from the table, stacking them carefully. “Y’all go get settled. I’ll clean this up.”

He turned toward the kitchen, stepping into the warm glow of the overhead light, his broad frame moving with practiced ease. He didn’t notice Ellie rise and trail after him until he heard her footsteps behind him.

He turned halfway, one hand on the sink, a plate in the other. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ellie said back, a little quieter now. Her hands were stuffed into the front pocket of her hoodie, her shoulders slightly hunched—not defensive, just uncertain.

She hovered a moment before speaking. “Dinner was good.”

Joel blinked, then gave a small nod, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah? Well… thanks. Figured I’d try my hand at somethin’ that didn’t come out of a can for once.”

There was a quiet beat between them—not uncomfortable, but thick with all the things unsaid, all the things that hung in the air between them more often than not.

Ellie shifted her weight. “You, uh… you didn’t have to do all this.”

Joel’s hand stilled on the plate he was rinsing. He didn’t look at her right away. “Yeah. I know.”

Then he did look over—just briefly—but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. “Wanted to.”

Ellie nodded once. “Okay.”

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, her gaze drifting down as her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. The light from the kitchen cast a soft glow on her face, highlighting the hesitation there—something tender, uncertain.

“…We should make it a habit,” she said after a beat, voice quiet but steady. “You know. Dinner. Maybe once a week or something.”

Joel turned from the sink slightly, wiping his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder. His brows lifted just a little.

“Yeah?” he asked, careful not to let too much into the question.

Ellie nodded again, meeting his eyes this time. “Yeah. We could even invite Maria and Tommy, if they’re not busy. Make it a thing.”

Joel looked at her for a long second, then let out a soft breath—almost a laugh, almost a sigh of relief.

“I’d like that,” he said, voice low and warm. “I’d like that a lot.”

Ellie smiled, small but real. “Me too.”

Joel nodded, his expression softening with something that looked a lot like pride, or maybe gratitude—maybe both. He turned back to the dishes with a little more ease in his shoulders than before.

“I’ll hold you to it, y’know,” he said over the running water.

Ellie’s smile widened just a little as she turned to go. “Yeah. I know.”

Chapter 12: A.R.K.

The months had passed quietly in Jackson, winter softening into memory as spring stretched its limbs across the valley. Snowdrifts had thinned and melted, leaving behind slick patches of mud and grass that grew greener by the day. The trees outside Ellie’s window rustled with the early promise of leaves, their branches no longer skeletal but budding with life.

Sunlight pooled gently through the cracks in the blinds, warming the garage-turned-bedroom with a golden haze. The room smelled faintly of old motor oil, leather, and Dina’s shampoo—lavender and cedarwood. Somewhere outside, the distant bleat of goats and the murmur of early risers stirred through the quiet, but inside, everything was still. Peaceful.

Ellie lay tangled in a blanket that had slipped halfway off her shoulder, her face buried in a pillow, breathing slow and steady with sleep. That was, until soft lips pressed against the curve of her neck.

A sleepy furrow drew across her brow.

Another kiss—feather-light, just beneath her ear. Then one on her cheek.

She stirred, eyelashes fluttering before she squinted open an eye. Her voice was gravelly, caught in the crook between sleep and waking. “What’re you doin’…”

Dina hovered above her, one arm propped beside Ellie’s head, the other brushing a stray curl away from her face. Her smile was soft, warm, unmistakably smug.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

Ellie blinked at her, still coming to life. Her fingers reached instinctively for Dina’s hip under the sheets. “You’re annoying,” she mumbled, but the words held no bite.

Dina leaned in again, pressing one more kiss to Ellie’s jaw. “You love me.”

Ellie let out a groggy huff, her lips quirking into the ghost of a smile. “Unfortunately.”

It had been months since they made their relationship official, and somehow, in the lull between patrol shifts and quiet dinners with Joel, everything had just… clicked. They practically lived together now, swapping between Ellie’s cluttered garage—half living space, half repair shop—and Dina’s cozy little home. Neither of them had said anything about moving in for good, but toothbrushes stayed where they landed, and clothes ended up mixed in drawers. The transition had been seamless, like muscle memory.

Dina had a drawer at Ellie’s place now—half-full of rolled-up shirts, an extra flannel or two, and a worn paperback with a cracked spine. Her brush lived beside Ellie’s on the tiny shelf above the sink, and there was always one of her mugs in the drying rack, waiting to be used again. At Dina’s, Ellie kept a guitar propped in the corner near the couch and her favorite hoodie draped on the back of a kitchen chair. Neither of them said it outright, but the lines between “yours” and “mine” had blurred into something shared.

On quiet days, when neither of them had patrol, they spent their mornings the same way—slow and sleepy, tea brewing while one of them shuffled around barefoot, the other curled on the couch with a book or a busted rifle needing repair. The silence was never uncomfortable. It just was. Easy. Natural.

Nights were the same. Sometimes they ended up in Ellie’s garage, the warmth of the small space cocooning them while music played from the dusty old record player Joel had helped her fix. Other nights, it was Dina’s place—cleaner, cozier, and always smelling faintly of herbs from the little garden box outside her window. They cooked simple meals together—nothing fancy, but always enough—and curled up under worn blankets to watch old movies. Ellie liked those nights best. When Dina would fall asleep pressed against her shoulder, and everything else—everything that had ever hurt or haunted her—faded into the background.

Dina’s voice was soft, teasing, close to Ellie’s ear. “Come on. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Ellie groaned, muffling it into the pillow, refusing to budge. “Don’t wanna.”

“C’mon,” Dina coaxed, brushing a strand of hair from Ellie’s forehead. “Sun’s up, and I’ll make breakfast.”

There was a pause, the bed creaking slightly as Ellie peeked out from under the edge of the blanket, squinting up at her with one narrowed eye. Then, without warning, she lunged—arms wrapping around Dina’s waist as she pulled her down onto the mattress with a surprised squeak.

“Ellie!” Dina laughed, landing with a soft thud as Ellie buried her face into the curve of her neck, her hair mussed and warm from sleep. “You can’t just ambush me like that.”

Ellie mumbled something unintelligible, her voice muffled by skin and curls. Her arms were locked tight around Dina’s middle, anchoring her in place. She didn’t move, just breathed in deep and hummed contentedly against her throat.

Dina smiled, the kind of smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She slid one hand into Ellie’s hair, gently carding through the tangles from the night before. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said softly.

“Damn right I am,” Ellie muttered, lips brushing lightly against Dina’s collarbone.

Dina laughed softly, her fingers moving with slow affection as she sifted through Ellie’s messy auburn hair. She leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of her head, breathing her in—sleep-warm and familiar.

“Alright, come on,” she murmured, starting to gently pry Ellie’s arms from around her waist.

Ellie groaned in protest, face still buried against Dina’s neck. “Nooo…”

Dina chuckled, working one arm free and then the other, even as Ellie clung dramatically. “You’re impossible,” she said, laughing through the struggle. Once she finally wriggled out of Ellie’s grasp, she leaned down and kissed the pout that had formed on Ellie’s lips—soft and teasing. “We need to eat something before patrol, babe.”

Ellie cracked one eye open. “I can eat something, alright,” she muttered, her hands shooting out to grab Dina’s hips again, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

Dina let out a delighted squeal, swatting lightly at Ellie’s hands. “Hey! No. You got your full last night, Gremlin.”

Ellie just grinned smugly. “You weren’t complaining.”

Dina rolled her eyes, still smiling as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it down. “I’d never complain. Not about that. But you’re with Joel today, remember? And I’ve got patrol with Tommy, so we actually gotta be on time for once.”

Ellie groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed with her arms spread wide. “Ugh, I forgot.”

“Exactly,” Dina said as she grabbed her jeans from the back of the chair, stepping into them quickly. “I can handle Jesse giving me shit if we’re late, but I do not need it from both Joel and Tommy.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Ellie muttered, rolling out of bed with a sleepy stretch and pushing the sheets aside. “Fine. We’ll be responsible adults today.”

Dina snorted. “Miracles do happen.”

Ellie shot her a glare as she padded barefoot across the room and opened the dresser drawer, rifling through a pile of neatly folded clothes. The snow had mostly melted, and spring had started creeping into the valley—enough that the air had lost its bite. She pulled out a pair of worn jeans, a soft black t-shirt, and a red-and-grey flannel that was practically fraying at the cuffs. It smelled like home. She tugged it on and buttoned half of it, sleeves pushed up past her elbows.

Behind her, Dina was already mostly dressed—jeans snug around her waist, hair tied up in a loose ponytail as she moved to the mirror. Without asking, she grabbed one of Ellie’s hoodies—an old green one, faded from too many washes—and slipped it over her head, grinning at her reflection.

“Hey,” Ellie said, glancing over her shoulder. “That’s mine.”

“I know,” Dina said sweetly, tugging it down and giving it a satisfied tug at the hem. “And now it’s mine. You have, like, five of these anyway.”

Ellie muttered something about theft as she sat on the edge of the bed and began braiding her hair back—tight and practical, the way she always wore it when they were heading out. Fingers moved with practiced ease, weaving the strands into that signature half-up style she’d adopted over the years. She tied it off, stood, and grabbed her boots.

Dina watched her in the mirror for a second, then turned. “You look good,” she said, voice soft but matter-of-fact.

Ellie smirked as she laced up her sneakers. “Damn right I do.”

They moved around each other like they’d done it a hundred times before—quiet, easy, natural. And in truth, they had.

They moved around each other like they’d done it a hundred times before—quiet, easy, natural. And in truth, they had. Morning routines like this had become second nature. Shared space, shared silence, shared warmth. It was the kind of domestic normalcy Ellie never thought she’d have, not in a world like this.

As Dina tucked her knife into the waistband of her jeans and slung her bag over one shoulder, Ellie pulled her flannel tight and reached for her backpack. “You know which trail you and Tommy are doing today?”

“Yeah,” Dina said, tugging the straps on her pack tighter. “We’re heading out along the ski lodge route. Same one from last month.”

Ellie made a face. “Ugh. That one’s always muddy.”

Dina rolled her eyes with a smirk. “It’s spring, babe. They’re all muddy.” She leaned against the wall near the door and crossed her arms. “Tommy wants to set up more traps along the perimeter—says it’ll help cut down on infected when a horde comes through. Jesse and a few others are tagging along too. Wants to spread the traps out over a wider stretch.”

Ellie nodded as she adjusted her backpack. “Smart. Fewer close calls that way.”

Dina glanced at her. “What about you and Joel? You know where they’re sending you?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, pausing to check her knife and flashlight. “That new stretch. The Fernhill Loop or whatever they’re calling it. It’s that new trail they mapped out past the ridgeline—southwest of the radio tower.”

“Oh, right,” Dina said, brow furrowing slightly. “They’re still figuring that area out, huh?”

“Yeah. Maria wants Joel and me to do a sweep, see if it’s worth keeping on the patrol rotation. Scavenge if we can.” Ellie shrugged. “You know. Typical ‘you’re expendable but also kinda trusted’ assignment.”

Dina let out a soft laugh as she stepped closer, her boots scuffing lightly against the worn wooden floor. She reached up and gently cupped Ellie’s face in her hands, her thumbs brushing along her jaw with a tenderness that made Ellie’s heart slow for just a beat.

“Hey,” Dina said, her voice low but sure. “You are not expendable. Maria’s sending you out there because she trusts you more than half the other patrols combined.”

Ellie rolled her eyes with a crooked smile. “Yeah, yeah. I guess.”

Dina gave her a look and leaned in, pressing a slow, reassuring kiss to her lips. When she pulled back, her tone shifted—still light, but underscored with something firmer. “Just make sure you come back safe. ‘Cause if you die on me, I swear to God, I will be so pissed.”

Ellie snorted, unable to help the grin spreading across her face. “Noted. I’ll do my best to stay un-dead.”

“Good,” Dina said, and kissed her again—quicker this time, playful.

When she pulled away, Ellie tilted her head with a grin. “Sooo… didn’t you promise me breakfast?”

Dina groaned dramatically. “God, you’re such a gremlin in the mornings.” But she was already lacing her fingers through Ellie’s and tugging her toward the door.

“Gremlin that’s been starved,” Ellie said, following easily. “You know you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Dina teased, giving her hand a squeeze as they stepped into the warm glow of morning light filtering through the hallway. “Come on. Let’s get you fed before Joel shows up and realizes I’m the reason you’re late.”

They made their way toward the kitchen, the smell of spring rain still lingering in the open windows and the quiet hum of life in Jackson slowly starting up around them.

---

Ellie and Dina strolled through the heart of Jackson, their boots crunching softly against the gravel paths worn smooth by daily traffic. The town was alive with morning energy—voices drifting from open shop doors, the clang of hammers from the blacksmith’s, and the scent of fresh bread wafting from the bakery near the square. Ellie walked with one hand stuffed into her pocket, the other clasped in Dina’s. Their fingers were intertwined, warm and familiar.

Ellie cast a sideways glance at the people they passed—some offering nods or casual greetings, others giving longer, more curious looks. Her shoulders tensed. She never did like being the center of attention.

“You know everyone’s staring, right?” she muttered, her voice low, like maybe if she said it quiet enough, it wouldn’t feel so real. “Feels like they’re all burning holes in my back.”

Dina didn’t even flinch. She held on tighter, like she could anchor Ellie with just the strength of her grip. “Yeah, well, they’re jealous,” she said breezily, a grin tugging at her lips. “You’re walking around with the finest omega in Jackson. Can you blame ’em?”

Ellie snorted, her eyes rolling even as her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Confident,” Dina corrected, smug. “Totally different.”

Ellie glanced down at their joined hands, then around again—people still looked, but no one seemed to care in the way that mattered. There was no judgment, no whispers that she could hear. Just life carrying on. And maybe Dina was right. Maybe people were just looking because they saw something good, something solid.

She squeezed Dina’s hand. “You’re lucky I love you,” she said under her breath.

Dina leaned in close, her voice a whisper against Ellie’s ear. “I know.”

Ellie huffed a laugh through her nose, trying not to smile—but failing. Her eyes flicked sideways to Dina, who was clearly enjoying herself, looking smug and self-satisfied like she just won something. And maybe she had.

They rounded the corner past the old town hall, now converted into Jackson’s small but functional library. A few townsfolk passed by, giving polite nods. One of the older women, Mrs. Crawford, even gave them a warm smile. Dina nodded back with a “Morning,” like she’d lived here her whole life.

Ellie mumbled, “You’re really not gonna let me be low-key, huh?”

“Nope,” Dina said, popping the “p” playfully. “You’re mine, and I reserve the right to brag.”

“You don’t gotta stake a claim in front of the whole town.”

Dina turned toward her, walking backward a few paces as they reached the path near the stables. Her eyes were bright, teasing. “Sure I do. I mean, do you see you? You look hot in flannel. That alone’s enough to cause chaos.”

Ellie blushed, tugging the brim of her shirt down instinctively. “Dina…”

“Alright, alright,” Dina relented, spinning back around with a laugh. “No more embarrassing public declarations of love. For now.”

They passed a group of younger teens near the watchtower—one of them gave Ellie a shy wave. She nodded in return, and they kept walking, their strides falling into rhythm again.

They finally reached the stables, the familiar scent of hay and horses thick in the warm morning air. The wooden beams cast long shadows across the dirt as the sun crept higher. Standing at the doors, leaning casually against one of the posts with his arms crossed, was Jesse. He wore a red-and-black flannel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of worn jeans tucked slightly into his boots. His pistol sat snug at his hip, the strap of a saddlebag slung loosely over one shoulder. He looked like he’d been waiting a while—comfortable, patient, and exactly where he was supposed to be.

As soon as he spotted them, his mouth curved into a smirk. “Well, well. Morning, lovebirds.”

Ellie immediately flushed, her eyes narrowing. “Shut up.”

Dina rolled her eyes with a grin. “Original, Jess. Real creative.”

Jesse just chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “What? You two came strolling in all hand-holdy and glowy. I’d be failing as a friend if I didn’t say something.”

Ellie snorted under her breath, shoving her hands into her jean pockets. Honestly, she’d expected things to be weird after she and Dina got together. The history between Dina and Jesse wasn’t ancient—everyone knew they’d dated off and on, and it hadn’t exactly ended with fireworks. But Jesse… Jesse had handled it with his usual easygoing grace. He never made Ellie feel awkward, never gave her any reason to worry. If anything, he was just the same as always—witty, steady, and absurdly good at making you laugh when you least wanted to.

She appreciated that more than she let on.

Dina tilted her head toward Jesse, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “So you’re heading out with Tommy and I today?”

Jesse gave a short nod, adjusting the strap of his saddlebag. “Yeah. Maria’s got it in her head that we need more traps along the east ridge. That horde that rolled through last week must’ve spooked her. Wants more bodies out there just in case.”

Ellie gave a quiet hum, her gaze flicking around the stable yard. “Joel here yet?”

Jesse gestured with a tilt of his chin toward the far end of the stables. “Yeah, he’s with Tommy—getting their gear sorted. But heads up, Maria wants to talk to you and Joel before you head out.”

Ellie let out a groan, dramatic and exaggerated as she dropped her head back. “Ugh, now what?”

Jesse held up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I didn’t ask.”

Ellie shot him a sideways look. “You’re gonna be running this place one day. You’d think she’d keep you in the loop.”

Jesse let out a scoffing laugh, shaking his head. “Please. If I ever run this place, it’s not gonna be alone. I’ve got you two to suffer with me.”

Dina smiled, genuinely touched, nudging him with her elbow. “Aww, that’s actually kind of sweet.”

Jesse shrugged, smirking. “I try.”

He looked at Ellie again, more serious this time. “But seriously, I don’t know what Maria wants. Probably just last-minute stuff. You know how she is—double, triple checks everything before people leave.”

Ellie muttered something under her breath, half complaint, half resignation, and leaned back against the stall door behind her. She knew Jesse was probably right—Maria never let a team go out without making sure every single base was covered. Still, it didn’t stop her from feeling like she was being summoned to the principal’s office every time the older woman asked to speak with her.

Dina reached out, fingers brushing along Ellie’s cheek with a touch that was both grounding and affectionate. Her thumb lingered at Ellie’s jaw before she offered her a soft smile—the kind only Dina seemed to have full control over.

Jesse groaned dramatically behind them. “Ugh, do I have to witness this every time?”

Dina shot him a sharp look over her shoulder. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

He smirked. “Please. I’ve seen myself in the mirror. Everything looks great on me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, lips twitching like she was trying not to smile. Dina turned back to her, fingers falling away. “Go find Maria,” she said gently. “I’ll get your gear ready with Jesse.”

Ellie gave a reluctant nod. “Alright. Just don’t let him forget the extra ammo again.”

“I forgot it once,” Jesse cut in, clearly offended. “And we still lived.”

“Barely,” Ellie muttered as she turned to go.

But before she could take a full step, Jesse called after her, grin widening. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on your girl for you. Even though you did steal her from me.”

Ellie paused, one brow raising as she turned back with a sharp retort already forming—but she didn’t get the chance.

Dina, without missing a beat, reached over and pinched Jesse hard in the side.

“Ow!” Jesse yelped, staggering a step away as he clutched his ribs. “Assault! You see this? This is abuse!”

“Keep talking and I’ll shoot you in the ass,” Dina warned, grinning as she grabbed one of the saddlebags from the stall wall.

“Not the ass!” Jesse cried out, staggering back a step like she’d already drawn on him. “It’s my second-best feature—right after my beautiful, rugged face.”

Dina snorted, shaking her head as she slung the saddlebag over one shoulder. “Delusional,” she muttered, but she was laughing, and Jesse wore his grin like a badge of honor.

Ellie, despite herself, smiled at the exchange. There was something easy about mornings like this—banter that didn’t sting, friendship that didn’t weigh heavy. She let the laughter fade behind her as she turned down the main path, the soft thud of her boots on packed dirt echoing in the quiet.

The early spring sun filtered through bare tree branches above, the last of the snow puddling in shaded corners. Jackson was slowly thawing, just like everything else.

Up ahead, near the edge of the main gate, she spotted them—Joel and Tommy standing near the walls steps. The two men were deep in conversation, Joel’s arms crossed while Tommy gestured toward something unseen, maybe going over a route or gear logistics. Joel nodded along, his posture relaxed in the way only Tommy or Ellie ever really managed to draw out of him.

Ellie slowed her pace slightly, watching them for a moment. Joel looked up first, as if sensing her approach before he even saw her. His face brightened a bit, a flicker of something warm and familiar passing through his features.

Tommy turned a beat later, offering her a short wave.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey,” Ellie said, her voice casual as she reached them. “You two gossiping or actually doing something useful?”

Joel chuckled low in his chest, giving her a mock glare. “Bit of both. You’re late.”

Ellie snorted. “I didn’t wanna get outta bed.”

Tommy raised a brow, clearly trying to bite back a laugh. “Well, thanks for sparing the details,” he said, elbowing Joel lightly. “Anyway, good to see you, El.”

The three of them stood there in the easy, familiar way that had started to come back between them—especially between Joel and Ellie. After everything, it hadn’t been fast. It hadn’t been clean. But bit by bit, they’d begun to find their footing again. Ellie had made a point to take the weekend patrols with Joel—just the two of them. It was quiet work, and most of the time they didn’t talk about anything deep. But the silence between them didn’t hurt as much anymore. And when it did, she pushed through it. Dina helped with that. Her constant, her encourager. And Joel… well, Joel was trying, too.

Ellie slipped her hands into her pockets, eyes flicking to Tommy. “So, what’s Maria want to talk about?”

Tommy lifted his hands in surrender, a crooked grin on his face. “Hell if I know. She’s the boss. I just nod and try not to piss her off.”

Joel huffed a small laugh, and Ellie let out a low chuckle. It was a stupid joke, but it worked—it loosened the tension in her shoulders, even if just a bit.

Tommy clapped Joel on the back and gave Ellie a nod. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to it. Good luck in there.” He turned and walked off, whistling low under his breath as he went, his bootsteps crunching faintly against the gravel path.

Ellie glanced up at Joel, lifting a brow. “Any idea what this is about?”

Joel sighed, scratched at the edge of his beard, and muttered, “With Maria? Could be anything from supply routes to the damn outhouse being broken.”

Ellie gave him a sideways smirk. “Hope it’s the outhouse. That’s more your area of expertise.”

Joel rolled his eyes but smiled as he turned toward the steps. “Come on, smartass. Let’s get it over with.”

Joel and Ellie climbed the worn wooden steps that led to the top of Jackson’s perimeter wall. The boards creaked under their boots, the morning sun casting long shadows over the town behind them and the wide expanse of wilderness ahead. The air smelled like pine and damp earth—spring finally starting to push winter’s grip away.

At the top, they found Maria standing near the watchpoint, a scoped rifle slung across her shoulder. She stood with her back to them, scanning the tree line beyond the gates, eyes narrowed and focused. The wind tugged at the loose strands of hair that had slipped from her braid.

When she heard them approach, Maria turned, a half-smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “There they are,” she greeted, her voice calm but purposeful.

Joel gave a short nod. “You said you wanted to talk to us.”

“I do,” she said, shifting the rifle into a more relaxed grip and leaning slightly against the railing. “Figured it’d be better to have this chat up here. Let you see what you’re walking into.”

Ellie stepped up beside Joel, squinting into the distance. The trees looked thicker than she remembered—wild and untamed.

Maria gestured with a tilt of her chin. “As you know you’re both assigned to the new trail today. Off Route 7. We’re calling it the Fernhill Loop for now.” Maria exhaled, something like a grim chuckle slipping out. “I sent Carl and Earl out there a few days ago. Figured they could give it a look-over before I had anyone more important waste time on it.”

Ellie’s lips twitched upward. “Lemme guess. They screwed it up.”

“Badly,” Maria replied with a sharp look, though there was more exasperation than anger behind it. “Got too far in without marking their trail. Nearly got themselves cornered by a small horde near one of the old radio towers. Came back bloodied, rattled, and missing a rifle.”

Joel muttered under his breath, “Those two ain’t got the sense God gave a fence post.”

Maria didn’t disagree. “Exactly why I’m sending the two of you out. I trust you to actually think before charging in guns blazing. I need eyes on that trail—real eyes—and I need to know if it’s worth keeping as part of our long-haul routes. If not, I’m shutting it down.”

Ellie nodded slowly, her gaze sweeping over the treetops. “So you want us to scout it? Supplies, threats, maybe a place to stash gear?”

“And anything else worth noting,” Maria confirmed. “If it’s salvageable, great. If not—mark it and we burn the map.”

Joel looked over at Ellie, then back at Maria. “We’ll take care of it.”

Maria gave another small smile, her voice lowering slightly. “I know you will. That’s why I asked you two.”

She straightened up and slung the rifle fully across her back. “Check in at the outpost on the south end before heading out. And Joel? Try to keep her out of trouble.”

Joel smirked. “You know that’s a full-time job.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Standing right here, y’know.”

Maria chuckled as she turned back to her post. “Go on. And keep your heads down.”

Joel gave Maria a quick nod as he turned, and Ellie followed at his side. The two of them descended the steps, boots thudding softly against the worn wood. The breeze picked up as they reached the bottom, carrying the scent of wildflowers and thawing earth, the promise of spring finally sinking in.

As they stepped back into the main yard near the stables, they spotted the horses being led out by a couple of volunteers. One of them handed the reins of Shimmer—Ellie’s trusted mare—off to Dina, who stood waiting just beyond the hitching post.

Dina glanced up at Ellie’s approach, her brows lifting slightly. “Everything okay?”

Ellie shrugged, brushing a hand through her hair. “Yeah. Just Maria giving the rundown again. Making sure we don’t get ourselves killed, you know—standard stuff.”

Dina gave a soft exhale of relief and nodded. “Alright. Still… be safe, okay?”

Ellie slowed in front of her, the air between them momentarily quiet. “You too,” she said softly, meeting Dina’s gaze.

Without needing to be asked, Dina stepped in close and leaned up, her fingers brushing lightly along the edge of Ellie’s flannel before she kissed her—gentle and unhurried. Just enough to ground them both.

When she pulled back, her thumb brushed Ellie’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Ellie gave a small nod, her voice a little rougher when she said, “Yeah. You will.”

Dina smiled, a flicker of worry still behind her eyes, but she turned and made her way toward Jesse and the others prepping for the trap route.

Ellie stood there for a second, watching her go before turning back to Shimmer. She gave the horse a soft pat on the neck, murmured something low under her breath, and then mounted up beside Joel, who was already settling into his saddle with a grunt.

“Ready?” Joel asked.

Ellie gave one last glance toward where Dina was disappearing into the crowd, then nodded. “Yeah. Let’s ride.”

---

The trail Joel and Ellie followed wound through the high ridges southeast of Jackson, newly added to the patrol rotation. It was quiet, untouched, the kind of stillness that felt almost sacred. A narrow path snaked along the mountain’s edge, flanked by steep drop-offs on one side and towering evergreens on the other. The kind of terrain that made you keep one hand near your rifle, just in case.

Joel rode ahead, his posture straight in the saddle, eyes scanning the way forward. His horse, a sturdy chestnut gelding, moved with steady purpose, hooves crunching over the gravel and dry pine needles that blanketed the trail. A rifle was strapped across his back, a worn leather pack bouncing slightly with the rhythm of the ride.

Ellie trailed a few paces behind on Shimmer, her mare stepping carefully over uneven ground. Sunlight filtered through the branches above, casting golden shafts of light across the path and illuminating flecks of dust and pollen in the air. Every so often, the trees would thin just enough to offer glimpses of the valley far below—lush with early spring green and spotted with the remnants of winter snow melting in the sun.

Birds flitted from branch to branch, chirping out songs that echoed faintly through the trees. The air smelled crisp, fresh with the scent of pine and damp soil. A hawk circled high above them, its shadow gliding silently across the forest floor.

Ellie adjusted the strap of her rifle across her shoulder, letting her eyes wander. Despite the rugged landscape and the constant awareness that danger could still lurk in quiet places like this, the peace of it got to her. It felt far from the chaos of cities, from blood-stained streets and burning rooftops.

Joel looked back over his shoulder and caught her staring out toward the trees.

“Keep your eyes on the trail,” he called, half teasing, half serious.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, though her voice held a small smile.

Joel cleared his throat, the sound low and rough as he scratched absently at his beard. His eyes flicked back over his shoulder to where Ellie rode behind him, her figure relaxed but alert in the saddle. The corners of his mouth tugged just slightly, thoughtful.

“This trail,” he said, voice quieter now, more reflective. “Reminds me of one back in Texas. Me and Sarah took it once—hell, must’ve been for her tenth birthday.”

Ellie straightened in her saddle a little, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “Yeah? Y’all went camping or something?”

Joel nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the winding path ahead of them. “Yeah. She begged for weeks. Wanted a real tent, a fire, s’mores—the whole deal. I finally gave in, loaded up the truck and took her up near Barton Hills. Pretty country. Lot like this, just… less snow.”

He chuckled softly, the sound more breath than voice. “Trail looked easy enough on the map, but I damn near busted my ass coming down one of the ridges. Slipped right on my face.”

Ellie snorted. “You? Seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” Joel said, glancing back with a small glimmer in his eye. “Boot caught a root, and next thing I knew I was skidding downhill like I was on a goddamn sled. Sarah, she—” His voice faltered for a beat, the smile lingering, though a little dimmer now. “She laughed so hard I thought she was gonna fall over too. Her laugh, it… echoed through the trees. Loud and clear. Like the whole damn forest was in on the joke.”

Ellie went quiet at that. Not in discomfort, but in that sort of reverent silence you gave someone when they were remembering something sacred.

“That sounds nice,” she said finally, softly.

Joel nodded once, his smile still faint, but present. “Yeah. It was.”

There was a pause, filled only by the steady rhythm of hooves crunching along the dirt path and the distant trill of birds nestled high in the trees.

Then Ellie spoke, voice casual but not without meaning. “Maybe we could go camping again. Sometime.”

Joel’s head tilted slightly, the reins slack in one hand as he turned back toward her, eyebrows raised just enough to show his surprise. “Yeah?” he said, voice low. Hopeful.

Ellie shrugged one shoulder, her lips twitching. “Sure. I mean… I wanna see you bust your ass down a hill again.”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head with a dry laugh as he faced forward. “Knew there was a catch.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Ellie said, grinning now, nudging her horse forward a little to ride beside him. “Could be fun. You know, nature, fire, beans from a can… broken bones.”

Joel glanced sideways at her, mock offended. “I’ll have you know I’ve gotten much better at keepin’ my footing since then.”

“Oh, I bet,” she teased. “Just like you’ve ‘gotten better’ at cooking.”

“Hey,” he said with a grin. “Dinner the other night didn’t kill you, did it? Tommy said it was even good!”

“Barely,” Ellie said, then smiled down at her reins, quieter now. “Still… I meant it. Could be nice. A weekend out there, away from everything.”

Joel’s smile softened at that, something warmer lingering behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked out at the mountain trail ahead, the trees parting to reveal rolling hills and open sky in the distance.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think that sounds real nice.”

They rode on in companionable silence, the path slowly descending into a narrow valley. The trees began to thin, giving way to signs of forgotten civilization—telephone poles leaning with age, cracked fences swallowed by ivy, and the distant shapes of rooftops barely visible through the thick underbrush.

As they crested a small ridge, the town came into full view.

It was small, barely more than a neighborhood, really—but time hadn’t been kind. The road beneath them fractured into jagged seams, weeds pushing up through the concrete like nature had decided to take the land back one crack at a time. Houses stood at crooked angles, their siding stripped and windows shattered. Cars sat rusted and hollowed out, long abandoned, some buried under blankets of moss and vines. The skeleton of a gas station stood at the far end of the street, its sign hanging by a single bolt, creaking in the light breeze.

Joel slowed his horse to a walk, his hand instinctively drifting toward the rifle slung over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the streets with caution honed by years of surviving places just like this.

“New territory,” he muttered. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

Ellie pulled her horse closer behind him, her gaze already darting across rooftops and alleyways. “You keep yours peeled, old man.”

Joel clicked his tongue in amusement, but his attention remained sharp. As they passed a row of dilapidated homes, a rusted garage door half-cocked open caught his eye.

“There,” he said, nodding toward it. He tugged at his reins, guiding his horse into the shadowed space. Ellie followed without question, ducking under the low roof as vines brushed against her shoulders.

The inside of the garage was musty, smelling of rot and engine oil. Broken tools were scattered across the floor, and a collapsed shelving unit leaned in the corner. But it was shaded, quiet—and more importantly, out of sight.

Joel swung off his horse in one practiced motion and tied the reins loosely to a metal support beam. He turned to Ellie as she dismounted beside him, boots thudding against cracked concrete.

“Best we go on foot from here,” he said, voice low. “If there’s infected around, last thing we want is the horses gettin’ spooked.”

Ellie nodded, adjusting the strap on her backpack. “Yeah. Can’t exactly fight Clickers while holdin’ reins.”

Joel gave a small grunt of agreement, already checking the magazine in his pistol. The air was still, but there was a quiet tension beneath it—the kind that came with knowing something could be lurking behind any corner, in any dark room.

Ellie looked out toward the ruined street, her hand brushing the grip of her own gun. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s see what this place is hiding.”

Joel gave Ellie a small nod and stepped toward the edge of the garage’s shadow, shoulders squared and steps measured. His eyes swept the street like he was reading it, taking in the way the breeze stirred a dangling wind chime, or how the birds had gone silent in one direction, suggesting movement—or something worse.

Ellie followed at his side, matching his pace, the weight of her knife a comforting presence in her palm. The silence was heavy, the kind of quiet that pressed in around your ears and made every creak of a floorboard or distant groan of metal feel like thunder.

They moved from house to house, checking the perimeter before slipping inside. The first place was a two-story with faded blue siding and a half-collapsed porch. Joel eased the door open with practiced patience, barely a sound escaping as they stepped into the dim hallway. Dust hung in the air, catching the shafts of light breaking through broken blinds.

Inside, they found a pair of Runners—one stumbling around the ruined kitchen, the other trapped between an overturned dining table and a shattered wall. Joel motioned to Ellie with a flick of his fingers, and she nodded, crouching low. She moved like smoke, silent and sure, her boots barely scuffing the warped floorboards. Her knife sank into the infected’s neck before it had a chance to react, her free hand covering its mouth until it went limp.

Joel took care of the second with the same brutal efficiency, jamming his blade into the base of the skull. He held it there a second longer than necessary before pulling it free, wiping it clean on a torn curtain.

They continued on, checking upstairs rooms with their backs to the walls, breathing controlled, ears straining for the telltale rasp or click that meant trouble. But the house was otherwise empty, its rooms stripped bare—closets hollow, drawers looted, beds overturned like someone had searched in a panic and never returned.

They pressed on.

The next house was even more degraded. Its roof had caved in near the back, letting vines pour in through the open wound in the ceiling. A bloater had likely once called it home, judging by the hardened fungal residue still clinging to the floorboards, but nothing remained now except silence and rot.

They picked through the neighborhood like ghosts, moving from cover to cover, house to house. Joel kept his head on a swivel, shoulders tight with years of instinct. Ellie’s eyes darted with a hunter’s focus, occasionally gesturing ahead when she spotted movement. A lone Clicker wandered too far from the herd, its head twitching, echolocation clicks bouncing off walls and rusted car frames.

Joel signaled her to wait. He circled around, then grabbed its shoulders from behind, burying his knife into the thick fungal plating at its jawline. It dropped in a heap, body twitching for a second before falling still.

Ellie exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “You’re gettin’ slow,” she whispered, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Joel gave her a look. “You try stabbin’ one of these things when it’s wearin’ half a tree on its face.”

She snorted but didn’t argue.

They moved on, searching through pantries and basements, prying open cabinets and locked drawers for anything useful. A half-used med kit. Some bullets. A few cans of food past their expiration date but still sealed. Joel pocketed a rusted old key he found under a floorboard, muttering about checking the shed out back before they left.

As they stepped into the backyard, the late afternoon sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the wild grass and the warped boards of an old treehouse. Ellie took a breath, the smell of mold and sun-warmed metal heavy in the air.

The shed creaked as they walked into it, dust swirling in the shafts of golden light that cut through its warped slats. Inside, they’d found only a few scraps—some screws, a busted flashlight, and a handful of parts Joel tucked into his pack with a quiet sigh. Nothing worth celebrating, but not nothing either.

Outside, the air had shifted. The warmth of the afternoon had begun to cool, and the wind stirred the overgrown grass, sending faint rustling sounds through the empty lots. The sky had started to bleed into pale orange and soft gray, streaks of clouds stretching like old scars above the mountains.

Joel and Ellie made their way back through the narrow alleys and cracked pavement toward the garage where their horses waited patiently. Ellie gave her horse a quiet pat along the neck, murmuring something soft to it before tightening the straps of the saddle. Joel swung up onto his mount with a grunt, the leather creaking beneath him.

“Not much, but it’ll keep the workshop stocked for a week or two,” he muttered, adjusting the reins.

Ellie mounted up beside him, her brows furrowed as she glanced one last time over her shoulder at the ghost town. “Creepy-ass place,” she muttered, pulling her flannel tighter around herself.

Joel smirked faintly. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Could’ve had a bloater in the basement,” she offered.

“Or a nest of Clickers in that treehouse.”

“Now you’re just trying to traumatize me.”

Joel huffed a laugh, nudging his horse forward with a small kick of his heels. “Come on. We’ll follow the road out, keep heading west a bit. I’ll radio in once we’re clear of the valley. Let ‘em know we’re still breathin’.”

Ellie gave a nod, falling in behind him as they rode out through the crumbling town.

The horses’ hooves echoed softly off the cracked asphalt, muffled by patches of moss and grass that had slowly claimed the road over the years. Abandoned cars lay half-swallowed by time—some covered in vines, others nothing more than rusted skeletons. A pair of old boots dangled from a telephone wire, swaying gently in the breeze.

They passed a mailbox with someone’s name still faintly etched into its rusted side, and a broken swing that creaked with the wind. Ghosts of a life long gone.

Ellie glanced around as they rode, hand never straying far from her holster. Despite the calm, her senses stayed sharp—ears perked, eyes scanning doorways and rooftops.

Joel kept a steady pace ahead, posture relaxed but alert. He glanced back once, catching Ellie’s eye, and gave a small nod.

They didn’t speak much as they followed the road down into a wide bend, the trail sloping gently with the shape of the land. Birds had returned to the trees now, their calls soft and familiar. The worst of it, it seemed, was behind them—for now.

The trail ahead was quiet. But they both knew that peace, in their world, never lasted long.

---

The steady clop-clop of hooves echoed down the empty street, the rhythm of their horses the only sound besides the occasional whisper of wind through broken windows. The sun had dipped lower, casting golden light over the town and stretching their shadows long across cracked pavement.

Ellie glanced up, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “Place is in better shape than the last one,” she said, eyes scanning the old storefronts. Signs still clung to rusted brackets: a faded bakery logo, a boarded-up general store, a barbershop with the glass still intact. “Almost feels like people just… got up and left.”

Joel rode beside her, his horse keeping a steady pace. “Yeah,” he muttered, eyes drifting from house to house, watching for movement behind the lace curtains and broken shutters. “Town’s held up pretty well.”

Ahead, the town opened up into a wide square, the cracked pavement giving way to a long-overgrown patch of grass with a rusted fountain at the center. An old church stood tall at the far end, its bell tower leaning slightly but still intact. Stained glass windows—many of them broken—cast colored shards of light onto the cracked stone steps.

“This our last stop?” Ellie asked, nodding toward the church.

Joel pulled his horse to a stop and looked up at the weather-worn building. “Yeah. We’ve cleared everything else out. Just need to make sure this place is clean before we head back.”

Ellie swung her leg over Shimmer’s back and dropped to the ground with a soft thud, boots crunching against the gravel. She took a moment to look up at the old church, its once-white paint now faded to a soft, peeling gray. Vines curled up along the sides like fingers reaching for the bell tower, and the stained-glass windows caught the evening light in fractured, jewel-toned glimmers.

“Reminds me of the one in Bill’s town,” she murmured, shading her eyes with her hand.

Joel, still seated on his horse, followed her gaze and gave a quiet grunt. “Yeah. I can see that. Bit less barbed wire, though.”

Ellie smirked. “Guess Bill was big on aesthetics.”

Joel dismounted with a grunt, dust puffing up around his boots as he landed. He stretched his back briefly before adding, “He actually radioed in, ’bout a month ago.”

Ellie’s brow rose. “Seriously? You heard from that fat bastard?”

Joel let out a low chuckle as he pulled his rifle from the saddle. “Didn’t talk to him directly. Maria did. He offered to trade some supplies.”

Ellie blinked, surprised. “Bill… offering something without calling it a waste of time first?”

Joel shrugged. “Apparently, he asked Maria if ‘that old bastard and the little shit’ were still kickin’.”

Ellie let out a sharp snort, shaking her head as she laughed. “Sounds about right. Sentimental as always.”

Joel’s mouth twitched at the corner, the ghost of a grin. “Yeah, well. Guess that’s his way of saying he gives a damn.”

Ellie smiled, slinging her pack over one shoulder as she moved toward the church doors. “Maybe next time, we’ll swing by and say hi. Bring him a cake made of nails and duct tape.”

Joel snorted. “He’d probably cry.”

“Happy tears.”

They then moved in quiet step, climbing the worn stone steps to the church doors, rifles at the ready. The wood beneath their boots creaked slightly, the sound sharp against the hush that had settled over the town like a blanket. Joel lifted a hand, signaling for a pause as they reached the top. Both of them stood still, heads tilted, listening.

Silence.

Joel gave a slow nod.

Ellie stepped forward and pushed the heavy door open. It groaned in protest, hinges stiff from time and weather. The scent that met them was a thick mix of old wood, dust, and lingering wax—like the place had been frozen in time.

Inside, shafts of fading sunlight filtered in through the stained-glass windows, painting fractured reds, blues, and golds across the dusty air. The wooden pews sat in neat, quiet rows, most draped with cobwebs and scattered leaves that had blown in through broken panes. Candles—some still half-melted—lined the stone altar at the front, long since burned out but carefully arranged, like someone had once taken the time to light them for real.

It was strangely still, like the building was holding its breath.

Ellie’s boots thudded softly as she stepped between the pews, scanning the room. Something caught her eye—along one of the benches near the front, a few opened food cans sat in a line. Rusting, but recent enough. One had a torn label, and a plastic spoon still stuck in a crusted glob of beans. Ellie slowed, reaching down to pick one up, her fingers brushing against the grime.

Joel’s voice came low behind her. “Everything alright?”

Ellie turned the can in her hand once before setting it gently back down. “Yeah,” she said, straightening up, her voice steady. “Looks like a straggler might’ve holed up here at some point. Ate and ran.”

Joel approached, eyes sweeping the room again. “Could’ve been a while back,” he muttered. “Still… let’s make sure no one’s still hangin’ around.”

Ellie’s boots creaked against the old floorboards as she walked beside Joel, her voice low but curious. “You ever go to church? You know… before everything?”

Joel hummed, eyes drifting up toward the large wooden cross mounted above the altar, the fading light catching on the edges of it. “Yeah,” he said, a faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Mama made us go every Sunday. Rain or shine. Me, Tommy, and our daddy. Whole family, like clockwork.”

Ellie raised a brow, glancing at him. “No shit? You?”

Joel gave a short chuckle under his breath, still scanning the corners of the church as they walked. “Yeah. Didn’t have much of a choice back then. Mama was real strict about it. Had this way of lookin’ at you that made you sit straighter even if you were thinkin’ about actin’ up.”

Ellie snorted. “Bet you were a real pain in the ass even then.”

He shot her a look. “I behaved.”

“That I don’t believe.”

Joel just shook his head, a touch of amusement in his eyes. “Honestly? I found it kinda boring. The sermons felt like they went on forever. Could never sit still that long.”

Ellie smiled faintly. “So what’d you like about it?”

He paused a moment, his expression softening. “The music. The hymns. Folks all singin’ together, voices fillin’ up a place like this… it was peaceful. Didn’t matter if you could carry a tune or not. It was just… somethin’ about it felt good.”

They continued forward between the pews, the silence of the church now holding a different weight—less eerie, more reflective. Dust floated through the colored light as Ellie glanced around, trying to picture a younger Joel, fidgeting beside his mother as voices filled a space like this one.

The hush in the church was shattered by the sharp clatter of glass breaking—faint, but unmistakable. Both Joel and Ellie froze, instincts kicking in. Their weapons came up in unison, barrels trained toward a shadowed door tucked away near the far corner of the sanctuary.

Joel’s eyes narrowed. Ellie could feel the shift in the air—no longer reflective, but tense.

“You hear that?” she asked quietly.

Joel gave a slow nod, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. “Yeah. Could be stalkers.”

Ellie muttered a curse under her breath as Joel moved forward, his boots almost silent against the warped wooden floor. She followed close behind, her grip tightening on her pistol.

Joel reached the door and wrapped his hand around the rusted handle. With a slow breath, he turned it—metal creaking loud in the heavy silence—and pushed the door open. The hinges groaned, revealing a steep staircase descending into pitch-blackness.

Joel clicked on his flashlight. The beam cut a narrow path into the dark, illuminating dust motes and old, splintering steps.

He glanced back at Ellie, tilting his head wordlessly.

She nodded once, jaw set, and stepped in behind him. Each of their steps groaned against the worn wood, echoing slightly in the descending tunnel.

“I fuckin’ hate stalkers,” Ellie mumbled, her voice low.

Joel didn’t answer. He just kept his eyes forward, sweeping the light slowly across the walls and steps. The air grew colder the deeper they went, and the smell of damp wood and mildew clung to the walls like rot.

At the bottom, they found themselves in a sprawling basement that had clearly been repurposed long ago. There were branching hallways leading off in multiple directions, doorways gaping into dark rooms—storage, maybe offices. It was quiet… too quiet.

Ellie swept her flashlight across the hallway to the left. “We could split up,” she offered. “Cover more ground. Meet back here in five.”

Joel turned to her, clearly not thrilled. “I don’t like it.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, already edging toward the left corridor.

Joel exhaled through his nose, reluctant. “You see anything, you yell. Don’t try to be clever.”

Ellie nodded, giving him a quick glance. “Same goes for you, old man.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue. With that, they parted—Joel heading down the right passage, and Ellie into the shadows of the left, each flashlight beam swallowed slowly by the darkness as the silence returned.

Ellie crept slowly down the left corridor, the beam of her flashlight darting across crumbling brick walls and rust-stained pipes that snaked along the ceiling. Her footsteps were careful, muted, the faint scuff of her boots the only sound accompanying her. She reached the first door on the right and slowly pushed it open with the barrel of her pistol.

An old bathroom. The smell hit her first—damp and stale. A single toilet sat cracked in the corner, the tank long empty. The mirror above the sink was shattered, jagged edges catching the light like broken teeth. Ellie stepped back, nose wrinkling, and continued down the hall.

She approached the next door, this one on the left, and eased it open just enough to peer inside. It was dark, but the sweep of her light revealed a long, narrow room—an old meeting space maybe. Tables lined the walls, some overturned, their surfaces warped and dust-covered. A few rusted folding chairs were scattered about, one lying on its side. Nothing moved. No sign of infected. No noise.

Still, something felt… off.

Ellie swallowed and turned back to the hall, moving slowly to the final door on the right. She could feel her pulse quickening. The air here was heavier, like the shadows pressed in a little closer. She gripped her pistol tighter and nudged the door open.

Her brow furrowed immediately.

This room wasn’t empty.

Several sleeping bags lay spread across the floor, worn and rumpled like they’d just been used. A still-burning lantern flickered in the corner, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. A couple open cans of food sat on a crate beside it—half-eaten, still fresh. Someone had been here. Recently.

But what caught Ellie’s eye were the bags. Sturdy, military-style duffels, lined against the wall. And stenciled onto each of them in black, bold letters:

A.R.K.

Ellie took a cautious step forward, eyes narrowing.

She opened her mouth to call for Joel when—

BANG.

A single, sharp gunshot tore through the silence from the opposite hallway.

Her breath caught. Her stomach dropped.

“Joel!” she shouted, panic blooming in her chest.

She spun on her heel and bolted out of the room, her boots hammering the floor as she sprinted down the hallway toward the direction Joel had taken. Her flashlight bobbed wildly, light slashing across the walls and floor as she ran, heart pounding in her ears louder than her footsteps.

Please be okay, she thought. Please be okay.

Ellie tore down the corridor, breath ragged, heart hammering. Her boots pounded over the concrete, echoing through the basement like distant thunder. She blew past the empty rooms she’d cleared only minutes before, her flashlight jerking wildly with every frantic step.

She skidded to a stop at the last door, nearly slipping in her urgency. The muffled sounds of movement and pained grunts bled through the thin wood.

She didn’t hesitate.

Ellie kicked the door open, her gun raised.

Inside, the room burst into chaos. Joel was on the floor near the back, clutching his leg—blood already soaking through the denim around his thigh, his face twisted in pain. His rifle was just out of reach.

There were four people in the room. All of them armed. All of them turning.

Each wore dark, patchwork gear—nothing uniform, but each with the same stitched-on emblem: A.R.K.

Ellie didn’t think. She squeezed the trigger.

One of them—a tall man with a buzzed head—took the bullet high in the shoulder, letting out a guttural cry as he staggered back, crashing into a shelf. The others moved fast.

Too fast.

Before Ellie could fire again, something slammed into her from the side—a body hitting her like a battering ram. Her shoulder cracked hard against the concrete floor as she went down, the gun skittering from her grip. She struggled, snarling, fists flailing, but another attacker dropped their weight on her chest, pinning her. A gloved hand gripped her arm, twisting it back.

“Get off me!” she shouted, kicking wildly, catching someone in the shin.

“Hold her!” one of them barked.

In the chaos, Ellie’s eyes found Joel again. He was still on the ground, breathing hard, dragging himself back with one arm. His eyes locked with hers for a split second, wide and desperate.

Then something struck Ellie across the side of the head—hard, blunt, bright white pain bursting in her vision.

The world tilted.

Joel’s face blurred.

And then—

Darkness.

Notes:

Trust the tags

Chapter 13: Every Last One

A sharp, pulsing ache throbbed in Ellie’s skull. She stirred, her eyes still closed, as pain radiated in steady waves from the side of her head, down her jaw, and into her shoulder. The world felt muffled—like she was underwater, struggling to surface.

Then came the sounds: faint beeping, distant footsteps, the quiet hum of electricity. The sterile smell of antiseptic hit her nose. Not the church basement. Not cold stone and old wood.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Fluorescent lights glared from above. She was lying on a firm mattress, a blanket draped loosely over her legs. The walls were off-white, clean. A hospital room.

Her fingers twitched at her side.

“Ellie?” a soft voice whispered, trembling and thick with emotion.

She turned her head slowly—wincing—and saw Dina. She was seated at Ellie’s bedside, eyes wide and glistening, her hands already reaching out. Gently, Dina cradled Ellie’s face, her fingers brushing back damp strands of auburn hair stuck to her forehead.

“You’re awake,” she breathed, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “God, Ellie—are you okay?”

Ellie’s throat was dry, her voice little more than a croak. “Y-Yeah. I think…” Her brow furrowed as the fog began to lift. The memory hit her hard and fast.

Joel.

Blood. The shot. His leg.

“Where—where’s Joel?” she rasped, panic surging through her as she tried to sit up, her hands trembling.

Dina’s grip shifted quickly, pressing Ellie back gently. “Hey, no—no, no, don’t sit up yet.” Her voice was calm but firm. “Ellie, he’s okay. He’s here. He’s in the hospital too.”

Ellie’s heart kicked harder in her chest.

“I need to see him,” she said, trying to shift upright again, her muscles weak but her resolve stronger.

Dina’s hands stayed firm on her shoulders, gently but insistently holding her down. “Ellie—no. Not yet. You can’t.”

Ellie’s brows pulled together, confusion and panic edging into her voice. “Why not?”

Dina hesitated, her gaze flickering—just for a moment—before she spoke, soft and careful. “He’s… he’s in surgery.”

Ellie stilled. “Surgery?” Her voice cracked on the word, disbelief rising like bile in her throat. “The gunshot was that bad?”

Again, that flicker in Dina’s eyes. Another pause. And then:

“It wasn’t just the gunshot,” she admitted, the words quiet, cautious.

Ellie’s chest tightened. She stared up at Dina, blinking rapidly. “What… what else happened?” Her voice was low, but the fear behind it was deafening.

Dina didn’t answer fast enough.

“Dina,” Ellie pushed again, straining to rise, her arms shaking with the effort. “Tell me.”

“No—Ellie, stop—please,” Dina urged, her voice firm, her grip stronger now. “You need to stay down. You hit your head hard, you’ve been unconscious for almost a full day.”

But Ellie was barely hearing her. “What else happened?” she repeated, her voice growing louder, her tone edging toward frantic.

Dina leaned closer, her hands still cradling Ellie’s face now, grounding her. “I will tell you everything. I swear. But not like this. Please, just breathe. Just give it a little time.”

Ellie’s chest heaved. Her hands were fisting the blanket now, knuckles white.

“Is he gonna make it?”

Dina didn’t look away. “He’s fighting, Ellie. The doctors… they’re doing everything they can.”

Ellie’s chest rose and fell with shaky urgency, her breath catching as she fought to steady it. “I have to see him,” she muttered, voice tight and low, but packed with stubborn fire.

Dina’s eyes widened. “Ellie, no. You need to stay in bed. You’re not—”

But Ellie was already shifting, pushing the blankets off with trembling hands. She winced as she sat up fully, her body screaming in protest, but her determination didn’t waver. Dina reached to steady her, trying to push her gently back.

“Please,” Dina said softly, “just rest a little longer—”

“I need to see him,” Ellie growled, her tone sharper now. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing the cold tile. Whoever had cleaned her up had put her in soft, borrowed sweats and a too-large t-shirt, the fabric sticking slightly to the sweat on her back.

Her knees buckled slightly as she stood, hands flying to the wall to steady herself. Pain throbbed dully at the base of her skull, her vision swimming—but she kept going, dragging herself forward.

“Ellie,” Dina said, rising quickly, panic blooming in her voice. “Please, just wait—”

Ellie stumbled to the door, clutching the handle hard. She yanked it open, the hallway light nearly blinding. She blinked rapidly against the glare, squinting, her heart pounding.

“I just need to see him, Dina,” she murmured again, half a plea now. Her hand gripped the wall as her knees buckled further.

Then everything tilted.

Her vision turned foggy, dark shadows bleeding into the edges of her sight. Her legs gave, and she slumped sideways—

But Dina was already there.

She caught Ellie just before she hit the floor, wrapping both arms around her and holding her upright, her voice low and desperate. “Ellie—hey, hey—no, no, no—don’t do this. Please. Come back. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Ellie sagged against her, the pounding in her head a dull roar now. “I just…” she croaked, her words barely coherent. “I just wanna make sure he’s okay…”

Dina’s breath hitched. She adjusted her grip, gently guiding Ellie back toward the open door. “I know, baby. I know. But not like this.”

Ellie didn’t resist this time.

She let Dina carry her weight, let her guide her back inside the room, back into the bed where the sheets were still warm and the scent of antiseptic lingered faintly in the air. Dina pulled the blanket back up, tucking it around Ellie’s shoulders as she lay trembling and defeated, her eyes fluttering closed again.

“You’ll see him soon,” Dina whispered, brushing Ellie’s hair from her clammy forehead. “I promise.”

Ellie’s voice was rough, barely above a whisper as her eyes searched Dina’s face. “What… what happened?”

Dina’s hand paused where it rested against Ellie’s cheek. Her lips parted like she was ready to speak, but then closed again as she visibly struggled to find the right words.

“We tried to radio you,” she said finally, her voice quiet, steady. “Tommy and I… we called in a few times. You and Joel weren’t answering.” She took a breath, fingers curling slightly into the blanket. “At first we thought maybe your radios died or you were just out of range, but—” her voice faltered “—I had a bad feeling. So did Tommy.”

She glanced away for a second before continuing.

“We went to the last location Joel called in from.”

The wind was sharper in the hills that day, pushing through the trees with a restless kind of energy that made the horses uneasy. Dina’s grip tightened on the reins, her stomach turning in knots that hadn’t stopped twisting since sunrise. They crested a ridge, the skeletal steeple of the old church rising from the town below like a broken finger pointing skyward.

There—by the side of the road, just outside the building—two horses.

Shimmer and Old Beardy.

Dina’s blood ran cold.

She exchanged a look with Tommy as he slowed his own mount beside her. His expression was grim, jaw clenched tight. Without a word, they both slid down from their saddles, boots hitting gravel.

The air felt heavier here, thick with silence and something worse—something wrong.

Dina reached instinctively for her pistol, her eyes scanning the surroundings as she moved toward the church’s front steps. Her heart pounded louder than her footsteps.

“I don’t like this,” she muttered.

Tommy nodded once. “Me neither.”

They approached the doors slowly, weapons drawn, stepping past the horses who stood tense but uninjured. The sight only made Dina’s gut twist harder. If they were left behind… it meant Joel and Ellie hadn’t been in any state to ride out.

Or they hadn’t been given the chance.

Tommy pushed the heavy wooden doors open, their hinges letting out a groan that echoed through the still church. Inside, the air was thick with dust and old incense, stained-glass windows casting fractured colors across the pews and broken tile. It looked abandoned, but not untouched—some of the pews were shifted slightly, a can rolled forgotten near the altar, and footprints were faintly visible in the dust.

Tommy stepped inside cautiously, his rifle raised. Dina followed close behind, pistol drawn, her every muscle tight with dread.

They moved together down the aisle, eyes sweeping the shadows. The building was too quiet. Wrong kind of quiet.

Tommy’s voice was low. “There.”

The door to the basement stood wide open at the far end of the chapel, one hinge hanging slightly off, a fresh scrape in the floor from where it had been swung hard. They exchanged a sharp look—then moved.

Their boots creaked down the steps one by one, flashlights piercing the dark as the smell of old mold and blood crept up from below. When they reached the landing, two dark hallways stretched ahead.

Tommy gestured: he’d take the left. Then he pointed to Dina, then right.

Dina nodded, swallowing the bile rising in her throat. She moved fast but methodical, her flashlight beam cutting through the gloom. One room—empty. Another—just dust and broken crates. Her pulse thundered louder in her ears with every breath.

Then she reached the last door on the right.

She pushed it open slowly, and her heart stopped.

Ellie.

Her girlfriend lay sprawled on the floor, blood streaked down the side of her head from a nasty gash near her temple. Unconscious. Pale. Dina froze for only half a second before sprinting forward, dropping to her knees at Ellie’s side.

“Ellie,” she gasped, cradling her face with trembling hands. “Ellie, baby—come on…”

Her fingers searched desperately for a pulse at Ellie’s neck—and found it.

Shaky but strong.

A soft breath rattled out of Dina’s chest as relief flooded her—only to be ripped away a second later when her eyes shifted to the other side of the room.

Joel.

He was slumped against the far wall like a broken puppet, his body covered in blood. His shirt was torn open, soaked red and sticking to his skin. His face—Jesus. Black and blue, so swollen she barely recognized him. Blood was pooled beneath him, congealing into the cracks in the floor.

Dina let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a gasp as she scrambled across the room, nearly slipping in the blood.

“Joel—” she dropped beside him, pressing two fingers to his neck.

There. Weak. Thready. But alive.

“Tommy!” she screamed, voice cracking with panic. “Tommy, they’re in here!”

Joel stirred weakly, his head lolling toward her. His lips moved, dry and cracked, the sound that came out barely audible. Dina leaned in, eyes wide.

He mumbled again—his words slurred, broken.

“Didn’t… tell ’em… not a word…”

Dina blinked hard, tears burning the corners of her eyes. She reached for his hand, squeezing it. “Shh… it’s okay. You held on. We’ve got you.”

Joel didn’t respond—his head drooped again.

Heavy boots thundered down the hall. Tommy appeared in the doorway, rifle raised—then froze when he saw what lay before him.

“Christ…”

“We brought you both straight here,” Dina said gently. “Tommy and I… we didn’t waste a second.”

She brushed some damp strands of hair from Ellie’s forehead, her thumb lingering just briefly. Ellie’s eyes flicked up to meet hers—glassier now, but sharper, like something in her had started to reawaken.

“Were the people who did this… still there?” Ellie asked, her voice low, hoarse.

Dina hesitated. “No. They were gone by the time we got there.”

Ellie frowned. “Did they leave anything behind? Anything at all?”

Another pause—longer this time. Dina’s mouth opened slightly, but whatever words were on her tongue didn’t come out.

“No,” she said finally, gently but firmly. “Nothing you need to worry about right now.”

Ellie started to sit up again, the protest already on her lips, but Dina shushed her softly. “Ellie. You need to rest. Please. We’ll talk about everything—later. When you’re stronger.”

Ellie stared at her for a moment, as if trying to read between the lines, but her body betrayed her—too weak, too battered. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Dina moved carefully, slipping into the narrow hospital bed beside her. She curled in close, her arms wrapping gently around Ellie’s trembling frame. Ellie didn’t resist—just leaned into her, burying her face in the crook of Dina’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of leather, pine, and safety.

The steady thump of Dina’s heartbeat against her cheek was the only sound between them for a long moment.

“Is he really gonna be okay?” Ellie mumbled, her voice barely a breath.

Dina pressed her lips to Ellie’s hair. “Yes,” she whispered. “He’s tough, remember? Like someone else I know.”

Ellie’s grip tightened around her shirt.

“Sleep,” Dina said again, quieter. “Then we’ll go see him.”

And finally, with a shaky breath and Dina’s arms around her, Ellie let her eyes fall closed.

---

It had been days since Ellie had first woken up in the hospital. The pounding in her head had dulled to a manageable throb, the dizziness fading with each hour of rest. Dina had barely left her side during the entire recovery—sleeping in the chair beside her bed, helping her eat, gently washing the dried blood from her hair when she was strong enough to sit upright.

Jesse had stopped by more than once, his usual humor softened with worry. Cat came too, her arms full of books and a half-baked loaf of bread from the kitchen. Maria had been in several times, checking in quietly but with the same focused intensity she always carried. She had sat beside Ellie on the second day and said, “Tommy sends his love,” then added that he hadn’t left Joel’s bedside since the moment they arrived.

Ellie hadn’t asked why. She didn’t need to.

Now, finally, she was strong enough to walk without wobbling, and the doctor had given her the okay to visit. Her ribs ached, and her movements were sluggish, but she didn’t care—not today. Not when she was finally allowed to see him.

Dina stood beside her, her hand gently interlaced with Ellie’s as they walked through the quiet hallways of Jackson’s hospital. Their fingers stayed locked, and neither of them spoke as they passed the whitewashed walls and faded posters for blood drives and old community events. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, and Ellie’s boots echoed softly on the floor.

As they turned the final corner, Ellie’s chest tightened. A nurse gave them a nod, recognizing the destination without needing to ask. Room 206. Joel’s room.

Dina gave Ellie’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Ellie didn’t return the pressure right away—her gaze fixed on the closed door ahead, heart heavy with everything unspoken.

But she took a step forward anyway.

Inside, the room was quiet except for the low hum of the old-world machines—restored just well enough to work. The soft, steady rhythm of the heart monitor echoed in Ellie’s ears like a second heartbeat, and for a moment, she stood frozen in the doorway.

Then she saw him.

Joel lay still beneath thin hospital sheets, his face pale under the bruises that had yet to fade. One eye was swollen shut, the other darkened with healing blood vessels. A breathing tube rested beneath his nose, rising and falling gently with each slow breath. His chest moved in rhythm with the machine beside him, and that simple rise and fall was the only sign he was still here at all.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, and she took a small step forward, her boots barely making a sound against the floor. Her hand trembled as she reached out and gently took his—the warmth of his skin startling, even through the coolness of the room.

“Joel,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Hey.”

No answer. No squeeze back.

She swallowed hard, her thumb rubbing slowly over the back of his hand. She hadn’t seen him like this since Colorado. And back then, he’d fought his way back. He had to do it again. He had to.

From the far corner, Tommy’s voice broke the silence. “He’s in a coma.”

Ellie turned quickly, only now noticing the younger Miller brother sitting in a plastic chair near the window. His posture was slouched, exhaustion carved into every line of his face. His hands were clasped between his knees, and his gaze never quite met hers.

“A coma?” Ellie echoed, disbelief and dread twisting in her chest.

Tommy nodded slowly. “Doctors say it happened not long after we brought him in. His vitals are stable, but he hasn’t woken up. Not once.”

Ellie’s brows knit together, eyes shifting between Joel and Tommy. “How long… how long could he be like this?”

Tommy exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Could be a few days. Could be weeks. Months, even. That’s up to Joel now.”

Ellie stared at Joel’s unmoving face, her grip on his hand tightening just slightly.

“He’s the stubbornest son of a bitch I know,” Tommy added quietly, voice hoarse. “If anyone’s gonna claw their way back, it’s him.”

Ellie nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to Joel’s face again. Her thumb brushed gently along his knuckles, as if the motion might anchor him to her. Keep him from slipping further away.

Tommy rose from the chair with a quiet grunt, crossing the room. His boots thudded softly against the floor as he approached the bed. He stopped beside Ellie, his expression shadowed beneath the low light.

“What the hell happened out there?” he asked, voice low but sharp with restrained emotion. Not angry. Not yet. But close.

Ellie’s lips parted, her hands trembling slightly as she held Joel’s. She wanted to speak—tried to—but no words came out. Her throat felt tight. The memory of the blood, the gunfire, the chaos—it all pressed too close.

Dina stepped in before Ellie could force anything out. She moved up behind her, placing a steadying hand on Ellie’s arm, grounding her.

“Not now,” Dina said, her voice calm but firm, her eyes locked on Tommy. “She just got out of bed. This isn’t the time.”

Tommy looked like he might argue—his jaw tensed, his breath flared—but when he looked into Dina’s eyes, whatever fight he had left drained from his shoulders.

He gave a small nod, stepping back. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right.”

Ellie didn’t look up. She kept her eyes on Joel’s hand, both of hers wrapped tightly around it now.

Tommy stood there for a moment longer, gaze fixed on Joel’s still face, before speaking—his voice low, edged with something brittle.

“He’ll be alright,” he said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself just as much as Ellie. “My brother’s too damn hard-headed to die. Always has been.”

Ellie’s lips twitched, but no smile came. Her thumb rubbed absent circles along Joel’s hand, the skin warm but unmoving beneath her touch. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Stubborn as hell.”

Tommy gave a soft huff that might’ve been a laugh, or maybe a sigh, then ran a hand through his hair and stepped back toward the chair in the corner. He lowered himself into it with a quiet grunt, elbows resting on his knees as he stared down at the floor. The weight of waiting hung heavy in the room.

Dina pulled up a chair beside Ellie, sitting close, her presence solid and unwavering. She reached out, her hand resting lightly on Ellie’s back in support, saying nothing but offering everything.

Joel didn’t stir. The monitor beeped in its steady rhythm. The afternoon light spilled through the half-drawn blinds, slanting across the room in soft gold. Ellie watched Joel breathe, watched the slight rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket, as if willing him to keep going. To open his eyes. To say something.

But he didn’t stir.

---

Ellie sat hunched forward on the couch, elbows resting on her knees, her fingers twitching slightly in her lap. Her eyes stayed locked on her hands—watching the tremble that came and went like an old, familiar ghost. It reminded her too much of that night in the burning steakhouse… of David’s blood splattered across the floor… of the way her hands wouldn’t stop shaking after she brought the machete down again and again.

The quiet in the room was heavy, broken only by the soft clink of ceramic from the kitchen.

Dina’s voice gently broke through the haze. “Hey.”

Ellie didn’t look up.

She heard Dina’s footsteps approach, soft against the wooden floor, and then the warmth of her presence beside her. A moment later, a mug of tea appeared in her peripheral vision, steam curling from the rim in lazy spirals.

“I usually make this when I can’t sleep,” Dina said softly. “Figured you might wanna try it.”

Ellie blinked, then glanced sideways. Dina’s eyes were kind, but there was something else behind them too—worry, quiet and aching.

Ellie’s lips tugged into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice hoarse as she reached for the mug. Her fingers brushed Dina’s for a second—warmth against her cold skin—before she wrapped both hands around the ceramic, grounding herself in its heat.

Dina curled up beside her on the couch, the cushion dipping slightly beneath her weight. She tucked her legs beneath her, close and warm, her presence quiet but steady. Her fingers threaded gently through Ellie’s hair—slow, soothing strokes that made Ellie’s shoulders finally begin to loosen.

Ellie took a careful sip from the mug, the tea warming her mouth, her throat. “It tastes good,” she said, voice still a little rough but steadier now.

Dina smiled faintly. “I’m glad.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the ticking of a clock somewhere in the house faintly audible, the outside world softened by the drawn curtains. Then Dina’s hand paused its rhythm.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice gentle but cautious, like she didn’t want to push too hard.

Ellie exhaled slowly. “I’m… alright,” she said, though her eyes stayed on the cup in her hands. “I’m here.”

Dina nodded, but Ellie turned toward her, studying her face now. “Okay,” she said, her tone shifting slightly, more focused. “So what was it? What didn’t you wanna tell me?”

Dina’s lips pressed together. Her hand stilled completely in Ellie’s hair, then slowly withdrew. “El…” she started, hesitating. “I just… I wanted you to rest. To breathe. You’ve been through so much.”

Ellie shook her head, eyes sharp now. “If you know something, I need you to tell me.”

Dina looked at her for a long moment—torn, conflicted—before finally nodding. She stood from the couch, her arms folding across her chest briefly before she turned and disappeared down the hall.

Ellie waited, the warmth from the tea fading slightly as her anxiety stirred back to life. When Dina returned, she had a small, weather-worn bag in her hands. She walked past the couch and set it down on the coffee table between them with a quiet thud.

The letters A R K were stamped in faded ink across the canvas, dirt smeared along the seams like it had been dragged through gravel and time.

“I went back,” Dina said quietly, eyes on the bag. “After we got you and Joel out. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Ellie’s heart beat a little faster.

“They left in a hurry,” Dina continued. “Didn’t cover their tracks well. I found this tucked in a corner room in the basement. Probably forgot it when they ran.”

Ellie’s eyes stayed locked on the bag. The letters A R K felt heavier the longer she stared—like they were etched into her brain now, burned into memory. She didn’t reach for it yet.

“You tell anyone else?” she asked quietly, her voice carefully even.

Dina shook her head. “No. Just you.”

Ellie gave a small nod, then slowly leaned forward, her fingers wrapping around the canvas straps. The bag was worn, stiff in some places from dried mud and dampness. She pulled the flap open, the scent of mildew and sweat wafting faintly up as she began to go through it.

The first thing she saw was clothing—uniform-like. A jacket, black or maybe navy blue, hard to tell in the lighting, but clearly standard-issue. On the sleeve: A R K printed in bold, blocky letters. She tossed it aside, fingers digging deeper.

Her hand brushed against paper. She pulled it free and unfolded it—it was a map.

She laid it out across her lap, her eyes scanning the gridlines, the scribbled notes, the worn creases. Jackson was circled near the bottom with red ink. Her heart jumped slightly.

But her eyes followed the trail backward—north, west. Her fingers traced the dotted path the group had drawn across the country, small notations at various stops. And then she saw it.

Seattle, Washington—underlined, with a small x and the word “origin” next to it.

Her breath caught in her throat. She glanced at Dina, who was already watching her, then looked back down and reached into the bag again.

A letter, folded tight. She peeled it open carefully, the paper stiff and brittle with age and damp. Dina leaned in slightly to read over her shoulder.

The handwriting was sharp, precise:

To the assigned field unit, 

Target is confirmed to be residing in or around the Jackson settlement.

Your directive is to extract any verifiable intel the smuggler possesses.

His knowledge may prove pivotal to the future.

Prioritize information. Use violence if necessary.

Remember: the foundation must be laid before ascension can begin.

We endure in silence. We move unseen.

— D.

Ellie stared at the words, her jaw tightening. She didn’t speak. She simply reached in again—and this time, she pulled out a photo.

A Polaroid. Grainy, but clear enough. Five people standing together, some in their ARK jackets, others wearing standard gear. One of them had their arm slung lazily around another’s shoulders. Another held up two fingers in a peace sign, like this was a souvenir, not a hit mission.

Ellie’s eyes narrowed as she studied their faces.

Recognition burned behind her eyes—these were the ones in the church. The ones who’d hurt Joel. The ones who’d put him in that hospital bed. The ones who looked like they didn’t regret a damn thing.

Her fingers clenched the photo so tight the edges bent.

Her eyes moved from left to right.

The first was an Asian man, lean and sharp-jawed, with dark eyes that stared straight into the lens like he didn’t trust it. His long hair was tied into a low bun, and a blade hung at his side. The lines around his mouth suggested someone who rarely smiled.

Next to him stood a white man, younger than the rest, with a buzz cut and a taut, wiry build. Ellie’s breath caught. That was him—the one she shot in the shoulder. Even in stillness, he looked aggressive, like he was about to spring forward. His smirk had an edge to it, a crookedness Ellie would never forget.

Beside him was a Black man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a calm, unreadable expression. His beard was full, touched with gray, and his eyes were half-lidded, almost tired. But his stance was solid, unmoving, like he’d been standing his ground his whole life.

Then came the Hispanic woman, her head slightly tilted, a strand of hair falling over one eye. Her lips were pressed tight, but there was intelligence in her eyes—sharp, calculating. A small pendant hung from her neck, and her sleeves were rolled up, revealing faded tattoos along her forearms.

Last was a white woman, her features angular and cold. Her blond hair was buzzed close on one side, longer on the other, falling into her eyes. There was something defiant about her posture, like she’d taken the photo on her own terms. She wore a thick utility vest over a faded shirt, her hands stuffed in her pockets.

On the bottom of the Polaroid, scrawled in a hurried, ink-smudged hand, were the words:

“ARK Crew.”

Beneath that, five names were listed, just first names—simple, informal, like they thought they were untouchable.

Mason. Leo. Cam. Kira. Ty.

She didn’t realize how tightly she was gripping the photo again until her knuckles ached.

From beside her, Dina’s voice came gently. “What are you thinking?”

Ellie didn’t look up at first. She stared at the names like they might start talking back. Finally, she set the photo down on the table beside the open map and the folded letter. “Did you find anything else?”

Dina shifted beside her, her voice soft but honest. “No. Just the bag.”

Ellie sat in silence for a moment, her eyes still on the scattered items across the table. Then she pushed herself up, voice low but resolute. “We should tell Tommy. He’d want to know this.”

She had barely gotten to her feet when Dina reached out, fingers wrapping gently around Ellie’s wrist, pulling her back down onto the couch. “Ellie… it’s late,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “We can talk to him first thing in the morning.”

Ellie opened her mouth, the beginnings of a protest already on her lips, but Dina was faster. She leaned in, her hand coming up to cup Ellie’s cheek, her thumb brushing across the skin just under her eye. “It’s late,” she repeated, softer this time. A quiet plea wrapped in care.

Ellie stared at her for a beat, jaw tight, before exhaling through her nose and closing her mouth. She gave a small nod. Dina had won—for now.

Without another word, Dina rose from the couch and offered her hand. Ellie took it, letting Dina pull her up and guide her toward the bedroom. The warm glow of a lamp cast soft shadows on the walls as they settled beneath the blankets, Dina curling close against her side.

But even as Ellie lay there with Dina’s arm around her and the warmth of the bed pressing into her back, her thoughts wouldn’t still. Her mind circled, again and again, around those five faces in the photo. Their names. The calm smiles.

She blinked up at the ceiling.

That was who did this.

And she wasn’t going to forget them.

---

It had been days since Ellie made her discovery. The names. The photo. The map that drew a red line straight from Seattle to Jackson.

Dina had kept her promise, walking with Ellie to Tommy and Maria’s house first thing the next morning, bag in hand and determination burning in her eyes. But even with the evidence laid bare across their kitchen table, Maria had shut them down with a cool, diplomatic finality—“We’ll bring this up at the next town meeting. No one’s doing anything until then.”

Ellie didn’t give a shit about a town meeting.

She was already planning. Seattle. Retribution. Something.

The garage had become her refuge since. The quiet, the space, the tools. She sat now at her workbench, the familiar metal and grit under her fingertips grounding her. A pistol lay in pieces before her—slide, barrel, grip, pins—each part wiped clean and inspected before being reassembled with deliberate care. Her hands moved with muscle memory, even as her thoughts spiraled.

A sudden knock broke the stillness, sharp against the metal of the door. Ellie froze mid-motion, eyes narrowing.

Then a voice—familiar, low.

“It’s me. Tommy. Can I come in?”

Ellie sighed through her nose, setting down the piece she’d been adjusting. “Yeah. It’s open.”

The door creaked open, and Tommy stepped in, the lines on his face deeper than usual, exhaustion pulling at his features. He ran a hand through his greying brown hair as he crossed the threshold, the faint scent of cold air and pine clinging to his coat.

“Wanted to check in,” he said, voice mild. “See how you’re holdin’ up.”

In his other hand, he lifted a Tupperware container. “Maria made stew. Said to make sure you’re actually eatin’ something.”

Ellie didn’t move. She stared at him, a dull look in her eyes. “Maria can’t stop this.”

Tommy exhaled slowly through his nose, like he’d been expecting that. He walked over and set the container down on the coffee table beside her stack of ammo and tools. Then he eased onto the old couch, elbows on his knees, looking at her with that mix of concern and weariness she remembered seeing in Joel’s eyes.

“To have the guys we’d need,” he began slowly, as if weighing every word before speaking it, “to do this smart… we’d be leavin’ Jackson wide open. Vulnerable.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched, her fingers tightening around the screwdriver she’d been using. Her knuckles went pale.

“So they just get to walk away?” she asked, her voice low but sharp, carrying more venom than volume. “After what they did to Joel?”

Tommy looked up at her, eyes tired. “Nobody wants that.”

“Yeah,” Ellie scoffed, “but that’s what’s happening, isn’t it?”

Tommy let the silence settle between them for a second before answering, like he was hoping she’d take a breath—calm down. But she didn’t. She was trembling with it. “What if we get hit by hunters again?”

Ellie didn’t even blink. “Is this you talkin’, or is this Maria?”

Tommy’s brow twitched. “It’s a valid point.”

Ellie slammed the screwdriver onto the bench, metal clinking against metal. “If it were you or me,” she said, voice rising now, throat tightening, “Joel would be halfway to Seattle already, and you know it.”

Tommy straightened a little, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No,” he said firmly. “He wouldn’t.”

“Bullshit,” Ellie snapped. “He wouldn’t hesitate.”

Tommy rubbed a hand down his face, sighing again. He looked older than he had the week before—exhaustion, grief, and guilt carved into the lines at the corners of his eyes. “We don’t even know for sure they’re from Seattle,” he said finally.

“They fucking circled it!” Ellie snapped, her voice cracking with fury. She flung her arms up, a mix of rage and disbelief boiling over as she turned to him.

Tommy didn’t flinch at her yelling. He just sat there, still hunched forward on the couch, hands clasped, staring at the floor like it might have the answers he didn’t.

“What if they circled it because they wanted to throw us off?” he offered, not even raising his voice. “What if they knew someone might come lookin’?”

Ellie stared at him, stunned. Her hands dropped to her sides, clenching and unclenching. “What are you doing?” she asked, the words low and sharp.

Tommy didn’t answer. His head hung lower, like the weight of it all—Maria’s warnings, Joel’s silence, Ellie’s rage—was just too much.

“You know what they did,” Ellie went on, her voice tight with emotion. “You saw Joel. You saw me.”

Still, nothing from him.

“You know what?” she said, backing up a step, her decision falling from her lips like it had already been made days ago. “I’m leaving tomorrow. At first light. And if you wanna come with me—great. If not…”

Tommy finally looked up at her then, eyes bloodshot and pained. “Ellie, you have no idea what you’re walkin’ into. You don’t know how many there are, how well-armed they are, what they’ve got waiting for you.”

“I don’t care,” Ellie shot back instantly. “I’m not asking for permission. And you can’t talk me out of this.”

Tommy ran a hand through his graying hair, frustration etched deep into every line of his face. He didn’t want to argue. But he wasn’t ready to let her walk out that door alone either.

“Just… give me a day,” he said. “Let me talk to Maria. Maybe there’s some folk she can spare.”

Ellie’s stare didn’t soften, but she didn’t interrupt.

Tommy rose from the couch, slowly, like his limbs were fighting him. “One day. That’s all I’m askin’. If she won’t budge…”

He looked at her, eyes steady. “I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Ellie didn’t respond right away. She looked back at her workbench—the map, the photo, the letter—all of it waiting, whispering revenge in the back of her mind like a radio she couldn’t turn off.

“Fine,” she muttered at last. “One day.”

Tommy let out a breath that sounded like it’d been trapped in his chest for days—heavy, shaky, relieved. He stepped forward and pulled Ellie into a hug, arms firm around her shoulders. For a moment, Ellie didn’t move. Her arms hung at her sides, stiff and uncertain, her cheek pressed against his worn flannel shirt. The embrace was warm, real—but it felt distant, like she was outside of herself watching it happen.

“You just get some rest, alright?” Tommy said as he pulled back, his hands briefly gripping her shoulders. “Let me handle this for now.”

Ellie nodded, but the gesture was slight, more of a dip of her chin than anything else. Her eyes flicked back to the workbench again, to the map with the circled city and the photo of the ARK crew—those faces etched into her mind like scars.

“Alright,” she said quietly.

Tommy gave her a lingering look, as if trying to read something more in her expression, then nodded. “I’ll talk to Maria. I’ll do what I can.”

He turned and made his way to the door, boots echoing softly on the garage floor. His hand hovered on the doorknob a second longer than necessary, like he wanted to say something else—but in the end, he just opened it and stepped out, closing it gently behind him.

Ellie stood there in the silence that followed, her eyes tracking the soft sway of the door as it latched shut. The room felt still again, like everything had been holding its breath while Tommy was there. Her gaze drifted to the Tupperware on the coffee table—condensation fogged up the inside of the lid, and the smell of something warm and homemade lingered faintly in the air.

She didn’t touch it.

Instead, she slowly turned back toward the workbench, her boots thudding softly against the floor. The overhead light buzzed faintly, casting long shadows across the cluttered surface—cleaning rags, spare rounds, a box of screws. The photo sat dead center now, the ARK crew frozen mid-laughter in that damn Polaroid. Their smiles didn’t fade, no matter how long she stared.

Ellie picked up her gun again, the grip familiar in her hand, cool against her palm. Her jaw clenched. One day. That’s all she’d promised.

She adjusted the sight with practiced fingers and went back to work, her mind already across the country.

---

The steady beep of the monitor filled the room in slow, mechanical rhythm—too calm, too detached for the chaos churning in Ellie’s chest. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mixing with the faint whir of the old machines keeping Joel tethered to the world.

She stood at his bedside, her eyes tracing the bruises that still lingered along his jaw, the shallow rise and fall of his chest beneath the thin hospital blanket. His face was pale, his eyelids unmoving, lashes casting delicate shadows over skin that looked far too still.

“Hey, Joel,” she whispered, her voice rough with unshed grief. She pulled the chair closer and sank into it slowly, as if any sharp movement might disturb something fragile between them. Her hand reached for his, calloused fingers curling gently around his larger, weathered ones. He didn’t squeeze back.

“I’m not gonna stop by for a little while,” she said quietly, her thumb brushing along the back of his hand. “But I’ll be back. I promise.”

The monitor beeped again. Always steady. Always patient.

She looked at his face for a long moment before leaning in just slightly, voice tightening with quiet resolve.

“I just… I want you to know I’m gonna find the people who did this to you. Every last one of them. I swear it.”

Her grip on his hand tightened, just for a second—like maybe, somehow, he could still feel it.

She exhaled shakily, blinking against the burn in her eyes.

“I don’t know why they did what they did,” she muttered, her voice low, bitter. “I don’t know if they were after you… or what kind of sick shit they believe in.”

She leaned in a little closer, eyes fixed on his still face, her thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“But they fucked up,” she said, quieter now, but the weight in her words was heavier than any shout. “They thought they could just walk away from this. Thought no one would come after them.”

She shook her head slowly, jaw clenched. “They’re gonna see. I’m gonna make damn sure they see.”

The monitor kept beeping behind her, impassive. Steady. Unmoved.

Ellie looked down at Joel’s hand one more time, then pressed it gently to her forehead, eyes closing as if trying to soak in the last of his strength—because she knew she’d need it.

Ellie lingered for a beat longer, eyes on Joel’s still form. The hush of the room—the soft mechanical beeping, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest—settled like a weight in her chest. She took a slow breath, steeling herself.

“I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, her voice tight. Then she let go of his hand and stood, her fingers ghosting over his knuckles one last time before she turned and walked out.

The hallway was quiet. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. Dina stood against the opposite wall, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. She gave Ellie a small, understanding smile—not the kind that tried to make things better, just the kind that said I’m here.

Ellie’s shoulders dropped a little as she joined her. “I wanna stop at his house before we leave,” she said, voice low but steady. “There’s something I need to grab.”

Dina nodded without hesitation, falling in step beside her. “Okay.”

They walked through the corridors of the hospital in silence, the rubber soles of their boots thudding against the linoleum. The exit doors groaned as they pushed through, spilling sunlight and cool air across their faces.

Once outside, Dina looked toward the stables across the way, frowning. “I couldn’t get to the horses,” she muttered. “Looks like Tommy took one. Now Maria’s got the stables locked down.”

“Fucking Tommy,” Ellie added under her breath, shaking her head. “We’ll figure something else out on the way. A car or a horse or something…”

“We will,” Dina said simply.

“This makes getting to Seattle a lot harder.”

“Then it’s gonna be harder.”

Ellie glanced at her, uncertainty flickering across her face. “You can still change your mind, you know…”

“I know,” Dina said.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

Dina stopped walking, and Ellie turned, only to feel Dina’s hands gently cup her face. Warm fingers traced her cheekbones, and Ellie’s breath hitched, instinctively leaning into the touch.

“Ellie,” Dina said softly, her gaze unwavering. “You go, I go. End of story.”

Ellie searched her eyes for a long second. No hesitation. No doubt. Just a quiet kind of loyalty Ellie hadn’t realized how much she needed—until now.

She nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

Ellie and Dina walked in silence, boots crunching over loose gravel and dry leaves scattered across the path that cut through the center of Jackson. The town had quieted for the evening, the last streaks of sunlight casting long shadows from the lampposts and wooden porches. A few townsfolk gave them glances from windows, but no one said anything.

Joel’s house came into view like a ghost at the end of the road—plain and familiar, the porch steps worn, the paint on the door slightly chipped. Ellie’s pace slowed as they approached. The silence between her and Dina grew heavier, more personal. Not uncomfortable, just full of what couldn’t be said.

At the door, Ellie reached out. Her hand trembled as her fingers hovered just above the knob.

A soft touch pressed between her shoulder blades.

“I’m here,” Dina murmured gently.

Ellie turned her head slightly, catching Dina’s eyes. She gave her a tense, fleeting smile—more of a grimace, really—but it was enough. She nodded, swallowed hard, then gripped the doorknob and pushed it open.

The familiar creak of the hinges echoed through the entryway, but it wasn’t an empty house that greeted them.

Maria stood at the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the table, her arms folded tight over a folded sheet of paper. Her expression was unreadable—something between anger and dread. She looked up as the door opened and met Ellie’s eyes.

Ellie froze. Her boots stilled on the threshold.

Maria slowly unfolded the paper, the sound of the crinkling page loud in the quiet house. Her voice was steady, but low. Almost brittle.

“Maria,

I’m headed to Seattle. I wish I could let it go, but I can’t. I have to bring these people to justice.

Ellie’s going to try to come after me—stop her. Take her guns. Lock up the horses. Maybe lock her up.

Buy me some time so I can end this.

Love you always.

—Tommy.”

She finished reading and slowly lifted her gaze, eyes locking with Ellie’s. Her jaw tightened.

“He’s gonna get himself killed,” Maria said quietly.

Ellie stepped further into the kitchen, the floorboards groaning under her boots. Her eyes were locked on Maria, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Her voice broke the tension, raw and cutting.

“He should’ve taken me with him,” she snapped. “You should’ve given us a group. Let us go after those fuckers the right way!”

Maria met her gaze head-on. No flinching, no softness—just a quiet storm brewing behind her dark eyes. “I wish I could,” she said, voice low and tired. “You think this is easy? That I like sittin’ here knowing what he’s walking into?”

Ellie stepped closer, her hands curling into fists. “You gonna try to lock me up?”

Maria let out a sharp exhale, pushing away from the table as she folded the letter again. “I prefer that you stay.”

“That’s not gonna fucking happen,” Ellie fired back, eyes narrowing.

Maria didn’t flinch. She studied Ellie for a long, heavy moment, the tension in the room drawn tight like a wire. Then she glanced at Dina. “Are you going with her?”

Dina didn’t hesitate. She stepped up beside Ellie, her voice steady. “Yeah. I am.”

Maria scoffed quietly, though not with anger—more like resignation. “So that’s it? You two just gonna sneak out in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said simply. No apology in her tone, just truth.

Maria’s jaw ticked. She turned toward the front window, where the light was just starting to dim into orange, casting long shadows across Joel’s living room. Then she sighed and turned back.

“On foot?”

“Yeah.”

Maria shook her head, muttering something under her breath before turning towards them. “I told the stable to let you out with your horse. Shimmer’s prepped. Saddle’s packed. And there’s a stash of ammo in the lockbox behind the barn—told ’em to leave it open.”

Dina blinked, clearly surprised. “Thank you, Maria.”

Maria’s expression softened just a hair. “Don’t thank me yet.” She looked at Ellie again, and for a moment there was something unspoken in her eyes—fear, maybe, or guilt. “Just… do me a favor, alright?”

Ellie tilted her head slightly, silent.

“Bring my dumbass husband home in one piece.”

Ellie nodded, quiet but firm. “Of course.”

Maria let out a breath like she’d been holding it in for days, then stepped aside, folding her arms as if it were the only thing keeping her together.

“Alright then,” she murmured, glancing toward the window again. “Get going. You’re… you’re losing light.”

Ellie turned, Dina already falling into step beside her. Neither of them said anything more. There was nothing left to say.

Chapter 14: SEATTLE DAY 1

Notes:

20000 words I better have 20000 comments smh

The sun beat down through the tangled canopy above, warm and golden as it dappled the cracked asphalt beneath Shimmer’s hooves. Ellie sat upright in the saddle, hands loose but steady on the reins, her eyes scanning the overgrown road ahead with quiet vigilance. Behind her, Dina pressed close, arms wrapped around Ellie’s waist, cheek resting against her back. The soft rhythm of the horse’s steps and the occasional rustle of leaves were the only sounds that broke the stillness.

Two weeks on the road had carved the sharpness from the world—replaced it with a kind of slow, grinding endurance. The once-paved street they rode down was barely recognizable now, choked by creeping grass and split by tree roots that had erupted through the concrete like scars. Cars sat frozen in time along the shoulders, some half-swallowed by vegetation, windows shattered, tires flat, trunks long since looted. A rusted-out bus leaned sideways at a stop, its roof caved in from years of weather, wild ivy crawling through its broken windows like it had claimed the skeleton for itself.

Ellie’s jeans were dusty and damp with sweat behind the knees, her jacket tied around her waist, hair pulled back. The map—creased and soft from constant folding—was tucked into her pack, the corner poking out.

They had learned not to get too comfortable. Just three nights ago, they’d taken shelter in the rotting ruins of a grocery store only to wake to the distant snarls of runners echoing through the aisles. Before that, a lightning storm had pinned them inside a collapsed gas station for nearly twelve hours, water pouring through holes in the ceiling, their gear soaked and morale fraying.

But they kept moving. One town, one step, one breath at a time.

Ellie shifted in the saddle, her voice low, reflective. “This hunter was on top of him… drowning him. And… Joel couldn’t get to his gun.”

Dina leaned her head slightly against Ellie’s back, listening. “Jeez… Were you scared?”

Ellie’s fingers tightened slightly around the reins. “I didn’t even think. I just… I ran in there, grabbed his gun, and… shot the guy in the face. Point blank.”

Dina was quiet for a beat. “How old were you?”

Ellie exhaled through her nose. “Fourteen.” She then turned her head. “How old were you when you first killed someone?”

“We talking infected?”

“No. Fully conscious, non-fungal person.”

Dina said nothing, at first. Then finally, Dina said, “Ten.”

Ellie blinked. “Ten?”

“Yeah. Guy came at my mom with a bat.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, like it was an old scar she’d learned to live with. “She froze. I didn’t. Had a steak knife in my hand. I just—” she made a small, stabbing motion against Ellie’s side. “Did what I had to do.”

“Shit…” Ellie murmured, genuinely impressed. “You got me beat.”

Dina smirked faintly. “Yeah, I’m a real badass.”

A moment passed, then Dina shifted to peer over Ellie’s shoulder, squinting at the overgrown road ahead. “So how lost are we?”

Ellie gave an exaggerated scoff. “Uhh, we’re not.”

Dina arched an eyebrow, skeptical. “Uh-huh.”

Ellie pointed down the road like she had any idea what she was doing. “Hey, have a little faith.”

Behind her, Dina laughed softly, the sound warm despite the tension that always hummed just beneath the surface of their journey.

Behind her, Dina laughed softly, the sound warm despite the tension that always hummed just beneath the surface of their journey. It was a laugh that pulled Ellie back from the weight of her thoughts, just for a second.

Then, more quietly, Dina asked, “What if it was those crazy cannibals you told me about?”

Ellie’s shoulders stiffened immediately, her grip on the reins tightening. The memory came back in a flash—David’s twisted smile, the smoke from the burning lodge, the feel of the machete handle slick in her palm as she brought it down again and again until he stopped moving.

She swallowed, voice low. “No. Wasn’t them.” Her throat felt tight, but she cleared it and forced herself to keep going. “That was… a long time ago.”

Dina didn’t push. After a beat, she asked, “What about the smugglers back in Boston? The ones Joel used to work with?”

Ellie exhaled sharply, glancing back over her shoulder just enough to meet her girlfriend’s eyes. “Joel lived a long-ass life. He probably pissed off half the country by now. Could be anyone. No point in trying to guess.”

Dina hummed in understanding and leaned forward, resting her head lightly against Ellie’s back. The warmth of her pressed there felt grounding, quiet, a comfort between the unease. They rode in silence for a few more moments, the soft clip of Shimmer’s hooves filling the space.

Then, out of nowhere, Dina said, “If you had a superpower, what would it be?”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” Dina said, a grin audible in her voice.

Ellie laughed under her breath, turning her head just slightly. “Why the hell are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” Dina said matter-of-factly, “you collect those dumb superpower trading cards like a ten-year-old. Figured you had to have thought about it.”

Ellie snorted. “They’re not dumb. They’re collectible.”

“Uh-huh,” Dina teased, poking her in the ribs. “So, what is it? Super strength? Teleportation? Talking to infected?”

Ellie rolled her eyes but let a real smile slip through. “Fine. If I had to pick… maybe invisibility.“

“Invisibility?” Dina said, raising an eyebrow, her voice laced with playful suspicion. “What, so you can sneak around and spy on me?”

Ellie smirked. “Obviously.”

Dina let out a short laugh, wrapping her arms a little tighter around Ellie’s waist. “Kinky.”

Ellie groaned, shaking her head. “You’re the worst.”

“Yet here I am. Voluntarily clinging to your back on a horse we’ve been riding for, what, five straight hours?” Dina quipped.

“Four and a half,” Ellie corrected with a grin, but her expression shifted as the trees began to thin out, the road bending slightly and revealing the skyline ahead—crumbling high-rises swallowed in ivy and moss, distant streets overtaken by nature and silence. The outline of the Space Needle, still towering but long dead, pierced through the hazy sky like a relic of a forgotten age.

Decaying houses lined the outer streets—sun-bleached rooftops caved in, windows shattered, doorways swallowed by shadows and vines. Rusted-out cars lay half-submerged in weeds, their skeletons picked clean by time and scavengers.

Ellie pulled Shimmer to a slow stop at the crest of the hill, her eyes narrowing. “Welcome to Seattle,” she muttered.

Dina let her gaze drift across the overgrown sprawl. “So… how are we supposed to find these people in all this?”

Ellie adjusted the strap on her backpack, her voice grim but steady. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

As they pressed forward, the road opened into a broader avenue. Weeds grew through every crack, and the silence of the city hung heavy—no signs of life, just the distant echo of birds and the occasional groan of old metal shifting in the breeze.

That’s when Ellie saw it—graffiti, faded but recent enough to catch her eye. One image was spray-painted in black: the snarl of a wolf, its teeth bared, eyes wide with rage. Beneath it, in rough, slashed letters: BARE YOUR FANGS.

A few steps later, on a crumbling concrete barrier, there was another message—different this time. Crude symbols, almost religious in their arrangement, circled around a painted phrase: FEEL HER LOVE.

Ellie slowed Shimmer again, squinting. “What the fuck is up with this place?”

Dina followed her gaze, eyebrows drawing together. “No idea… but it’s creepy as hell.”

Ellie let her eyes linger on the markings, unease settling in her chest like a stone. Whoever they were looking for, they weren’t the only ones haunting the ruins of Seattle.

Shimmer’s hooves clopped softly over cracked pavement as Ellie and Dina continued their slow ride through the ruins of Seattle. The air felt heavier now—like even the sunlight filtering through the clouds was dimmed by the weight of what surrounded them. Vines crept up the sides of abandoned storefronts and traffic lights hung crooked over intersections where grass had burst through the concrete. And then… the bodies came into view.

Ellie’s jaw tensed as they passed beneath the first one—an old, half-decayed corpse dangling from a rusted rafter by its wrists. The faded remains of a FEDRA uniform clung to the figure like shredded parchment, its boots swinging gently in the breeze. More came into view as they moved—some strung up from telephone poles, others crucified on makeshift wooden frames bolted to light posts. Their skin leathery and gray. Bullet holes in some. Knives still stuck in others.

Dina’s voice was quiet, but sharp. “What the fuck is wrong with these people?”

Ellie’s eyes stayed forward, jaw clenched. “It’s… common. In other zones that got overthrown. After the rebels took over, they’d hang FEDRA soldiers like this. Warnings. Power plays.”

Dina shook her head, horror clear in her voice. “It’s barbaric.”

Ellie nodded once. “Yeah. It is.”

The two fell into silence again, broken only by the occasional creak of hanging bodies in the wind or the distant calls of crows circling overhead. As they approached what used to be a highway on-ramp, Shimmer slowed, ears flicking. Ahead of them, a twisted tangle of rusted cars, uprooted trees, and shattered cement blocked the path. A barbed-wire log barricade stretched across what remained of the road, tangled with pieces of rebar and melted signage. Ellie kicked her heel gently, guiding Shimmer over a narrow gap in the obstruction, and Dina held tight as they jumped the barrier with a grunt and a thud on the other side.

Dina glanced around at the broken highway. Fissures spiderwebbed through the ground. Asphalt had peeled back like old skin, and entire sections had simply collapsed into chasms below.

“I wonder what the hell happened here,” she murmured, scanning the devastation.

Ellie adjusted her grip on the reins, her expression unreadable. “Government bombed it.”

Dina blinked. “Bombed it?”

“Yeah. Sometimes they’d destroy parts of the city that were too far gone. Lost to infected. Or rebels. Or both.”

Dina’s brow furrowed, her voice somewhere between disbelief and disgust. “That seems like overkill.”

Ellie shrugged faintly. “Well… it usually worked.”

Dina looked at her sideways. “On the infected or the rebels?”

Ellie met her gaze with a grim half-smile. “Both.”

A pause.

“Shit,” Dina breathed, settling back into the saddle, her grip tightening around Ellie’s middle.

Ellie’s voice softened, low and serious. “Believe me… you’re lucky you didn’t grow up in a QZ.”

Dina exhaled, gaze lingering on a collapsed overpass in the distance. “Yeah. I’m starting to get that impression.”

Shimmer’s hooves echoed against the pavement as they continued winding through the skeletal remains of the city. Broken glass crunched beneath them, and the sun dipped lower behind the skyline, casting long shadows across the wreckage of what used to be thriving streets. Vines dangled from shattered windows, and moss had begun reclaiming sidewalks as if nature were trying to forget what humanity had built.

Then Ellie’s eyes caught it—graffiti, bold and clean-cut, sprayed in deep red paint across the crumbling side of an old building. The letters were huge, unmistakable:

A R K

Beneath it, in smaller block letters:

FROM RUIN, WE REBUILD. FROM KNOWLEDGE, WE ASCEND.

Next to the text, someone had painted a precise symbol: three interlocking circles. Each was slightly different—one jagged like gears, one smooth like rippling water, and the third filled with tiny stars like a night sky. Not random. Not some punk tagging a wall. It was purposeful. Organized.

Ellie pulled on the reins, bringing Shimmer to a halt as she stared at the structure.

“Look at that,” she muttered, her brow furrowed. “ARK… That’s them.”

Dina followed her gaze. The building in front of them stood out from the rest—larger, rounded, almost dome-shaped with a partially glass roof that was mostly intact. Ivy crept along the sides, but the architecture was sturdier, like it had been built to last. Clean, too. At least compared to the decay around it.

“Looks like some kind of civic building,” Dina said, eyes narrowed.

Ellie slipped down from Shimmer’s back, boots landing in the overgrown grass. “Whatever it is, it’s big. Could be something inside—info, maps, a clue about those people. Or even the crew in the photo.”

Dina didn’t hesitate, hopping down behind her. “Guess we’re going exploring.”

Ellie gave her a faint, grim smile and tied Shimmer to a nearby lamppost, patting the horse’s neck. “Be good. Won’t be long.”

They both approached the building, boots crunching through dead leaves and broken glass. As they reached the heavy metal doors—one cracked open just enough to squeeze through—Ellie glanced up once more at the symbol painted above the entryway.

“From knowledge, we ascend,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers brushing over the weathered metal.

Ellie pushed the heavy door open with a low, metallic groan, the rusted hinges screaming just loud enough to make her wince. The interior was dark and cavernous, the air heavy with the smell of damp earth, mildew, and something fouler—rotting flesh.

But what stopped her cold wasn’t the stench. It was the sound.

Click. Click. Click.

Her body tensed. Instinct kicked in.

“Down,” she whispered, grabbing Dina’s arm and pulling her low to the ground. They dropped into a crouch just inside the threshold, shadows cloaking them as they pressed against the cool, cracked concrete wall. The faint shafts of light filtering through the broken dome overhead gave just enough visibility to make out movement inside the atrium.

Ellie’s breathing slowed as she strained her ears, trying to decipher what exactly they were dealing with. She slid closer to the edge of the wall, heart pounding in her ears, and carefully leaned her head around the corner to look.

The sight made her stomach twist.

Three clickers stood amid the ruined lobby, their bodies twitching in short, erratic movements. Their heads were fully bloomed in grotesque fungal formations—petals of hardened Cordyceps growth where eyes used to be, teeth clicking in mindless rhythm as they pivoted their heads toward every sound. They wore tattered remains of FEDRA riot gear, blackened and peeling under the weight of time and infection. One still had a rusted baton dangling from his hip.

Nearby, two runners paced slowly along the edge of the room, their groans low and guttural, eyes milky but still seeing. One of them had patches of uniform still clinging to his body, while the other’s arms were torn open, blood and infection threaded like veins along his skin. Both were hunched, twitchy, sniffing the air and occasionally muttering to themselves in fragmented, warped tones.

Ellie ducked back behind the wall, her hand trembling just slightly as she turned to Dina.

She held up five fingers silently, then tapped her temple before holding up three, miming the erratic clicking of the infected. Then she held up two more, whispering, “Runners.”

Dina’s eyes flicked upward toward the ceiling, then back to Ellie. She nodded once, mouthing, Okay.

Ellie reached for her switchblade, the weight of it familiar and grounding in her hand. They were outnumbered, but not outmatched—not with stealth, not with planning. She glanced back toward the room, mind already mapping it out: columns for cover, a balcony above, and doorways that could work in their favor… or get them killed.

She turned back to Dina, her voice barely audible.

“Take the one on the right. I’ll handle the clickers.”

Dina arched a brow, unimpressed. “You sure about that?”

Ellie smirked faintly. “Nope.”

Ellie and Dina split up without another word, instincts sharpened by countless encounters guiding their movements. Dina veered off to the right, keeping low behind an overturned desk before flanking the runners. Ellie, meanwhile, circled wide around the cracked marble floor, her steps slow and calculated as she stalked the nearest clicker.

The first one didn’t even react—her blade slid cleanly into its throat just under the jaw, severing its spinal cord with practiced precision. The body dropped with a thud, and Ellie caught it before it could collapse too loudly. She turned in time to see Dina take out the first runner in a flash of movement—an arm around its throat, a swift jab under the ribs. The infected groaned once, then stilled.

Ellie moved on. The second clicker twitched nearby, jerking its head to the left as if it caught something on the edge of its senses. Ellie crept behind a pillar, then surged forward, driving her knife into the back of its skull. A wet squelch, and then silence.

She exhaled slowly, readying herself for the last one.

But her boot slid over something small—sharp.

Crunch.

A piece of broken glass, hidden under moss.

The last clicker froze. Its head snapped up—fungal growth flaring like a radar dish before it let out an ear-splitting shriek and launched forward.

Ellie barely had time to react. The clicker slammed into her, driving her hard into the tile floor. Her knife flew from her hand, clattering somewhere in the dark as she landed on her back, the clicker’s full weight bearing down on her. Its claws tore at her, and its snarling mouth snapped inches from her face.

“Fuck—!” Ellie grunted, shoving both hands against the clicker’s neck, arms trembling as she held it at bay. She thrashed, feet kicking, eyes darting toward where her knife had slid across the floor. Too far.

The clicker lunged again, teeth grazing her cheek as she strained beneath it, adrenaline and terror roaring in her ears.

Then—

BANG.

The clicker’s head exploded, spattering Ellie in warm, wet gore as its body collapsed limply on top of her.

Breathing hard, Ellie shoved the corpse aside and looked up to see Dina standing over her, pistol still raised, face pale but steady.

Dina lowered her weapon slowly, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. “This is how you handle it, huh?”

Ellie wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket, grimacing. “Not usually. That one was… improvising.”

Dina stepped closer, reaching out with one hand. Ellie took it, her palm sweaty and trembling despite her usual iron grip. Dina didn’t say anything at first, just used her other hand to wipe at the blood clinging to Ellie’s chin and jawline, checking her over with a surgeon’s precision and a lover’s worry.

“You clean?” she asked, eyes scanning for scratches or bites with a sharpness that cut through the lingering adrenaline.

“I’m fine,” Ellie said quickly, voice low but steady. “Just winded. That’s all.”

Dina let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, her forehead pressing lightly against Ellie’s for a moment before she leaned back. “Good. I really didn’t wanna have to shoot you in the face.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “You have such a way with words.”

Dina smirked. “I try.”

They stood in silence for a beat, collecting themselves. Then Dina slowly turned, her gaze sweeping upward—and stopped. Her eyes widened with quiet awe as she looked at the towering stained glass windows above them, still surprisingly intact, casting fractured shafts of colored light across the ruined floor.

The room they were in had a high, arched ceiling, now faded with water damage and time. Wooden pews—many broken or half-rotted—sat in uneven rows, some buried beneath debris. At the far end of the room, a raised platform held a battered lectern and behind it, a set of ornate golden candle holders lined the wall, their arms dusty but unmistakable.

“This is a synagogue,” Dina said quietly, more to herself than Ellie.

Ellie tilted her head, looking around. “How can you tell?”

Dina pointed as she walked forward. “One, there are menorah decorations on the walls. It’s a Jewish thing.” Her voice was soft with something almost reverent. “Two… I didn’t burst into flames just now.”

Ellie blinked. “Burst into flames?”

Dina chuckled. “It’s just a dumb joke.”

Ellie gave her a sideways look. “Unlike your other jokes?”

“You shut it.” But there was no heat in her voice—just a quiet fondness as she looked around the ruined sanctuary.

“This place brings back a lot of memories,” she murmured, fingers brushing over the edge of a pew as she passed. “My sister used to drag me to synagogue all the time.”

“You never struck me as much of a believer,” Ellie said, trailing behind her.

Dina smiled faintly. “I’m not. But I like coming from a long line of survivors.”

Ellie’s brow furrowed. “You mean… after Outbreak Day?”

Dina turned, her eyes finding Ellie’s with a tired but fierce kind of pride. “That… and the Inquisition. The Holocaust. My family’s been running and surviving for generations. Somehow, we always make it out.” Her smile faltered for a second. “Barely.”

Ellie didn’t respond right away. The colored light from the stained glass caught in Dina’s hair, casting her in reds and blues. For a moment, the silence between them wasn’t heavy—it was sacred.

“…Then we’ll make it out of this, too,” Ellie finally said.

Dina looked at her and nodded. “Yeah. We will.”

Ellie exhaled through her nose and stepped back, eyes scanning the open, dust-heavy air of the sanctuary. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Dina nodded, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. The two of them separated instinctively—years of survival shaping their rhythm. Ellie moved toward the corpses they’d taken down, crouching beside the FEDRA-clad clickers. She rummaged through torn pockets and worn vests, frowning. A few bullets, a half-full magazine, a blood-crusted pocketknife—that was about it. She slipped the ammo into her pack, standing with a sigh.

Her eyes drifted toward a side door tucked partially ajar on the far end of the sanctuary, paint flaking from the wood, hinges rusted. She walked over, fingers brushing the handle before easing it open. The door creaked, its sound swallowed by the thick silence.

Inside, the air was stale. Dust floated like snow in the shaft of sunlight bleeding through a broken window. Against the far wall, slumped in the corner, was a body.

Ellie stepped closer.

The corpse hadn’t yet fully decomposed—no spores, no smell of rot beyond the metallic bite of dried blood. Maybe two, three days old. A pistol sat limp beside the man’s outstretched hand, and beside that, a folded piece of paper, yellowed but intact. Ellie knelt, brushing the paper open, her eyes narrowing as she read.

“Bit got me. One of the runners clipped my leg when I was checking the hallway. Don’t know how I missed it. Guess I was tired. Guess it don’t matter now.

Didn’t want to turn. Shot felt like the only decent choice left.

If you find this, the rest of them made it. They pushed on toward the safehouse—abandoned hotel near the freeway. You’ll know it by the tarp on the roof.

From ruin, we rebuild.

From knowledge, we ascend.

—L”

Ellie stared at the bottom of the letter for a long moment. That same phrase again.

“From knowledge, we ascend.”

She looked to the dead man’s sleeve—there it was. The three interlocking circles. Faded, but still visible on a stitched-on patch. She tilted her head slightly, something cold settling in her gut.

Behind her, Dina’s footsteps approached. Ellie didn’t turn, just let the sound of her come close.

“You recognize him?” Dina asked softly, peering over Ellie’s shoulder at the body.

Ellie shook her head. “No.” She folded the letter neatly, tucking it into her back pocket. “But I found something.”

Dina watched her closely as Ellie pulled out their battered map and unfolded it against the nearest flat surface, brushing off a layer of grime. “Can you find a hotel near here?” Ellie asked, eyes already tracing roads and faded landmarks.

Dina stepped closer, scanning. “Uhh… here,” she said, tapping near the map’s edge. “There’s one. Looks like it’s by the 5 freeway, north of where we came in.”

Ellie nodded, already tucking the map away. “He said it had a tarp on the roof. Some kind of safehouse for… whoever these people are.”

Dina glanced back toward the sanctuary, then the dead man in the corner. “The Ark?”

“Yeah,” Ellie muttered. “Whatever the hell that means.”

Dina took a cautious step forward, eyes scanning the blood-smeared floor and the broken shelves. “We should check for supplies. Just in case there’s anything worth taking.”

Ellie nodded slowly, but her gaze stayed fixed on the slumped body in the corner. “Yeah… yeah, good idea,” she muttered, though her voice was distant, distracted.

She didn’t know what kind of people he belonged to, but whatever it was… it had to be bad.

---

The rhythmic clop of Shimmer’s hooves echoed softly against the cracked pavement, the sound swallowed quickly by the eerie quiet of the abandoned city. Ellie and Dina sat astride her, shoulders tense beneath the weight of their packs as they rode past collapsed buildings and rusted-out cars choked with ivy.

Sunlight filtered through the broken skyline in thin, dusty rays, casting long shadows that stretched across the road like fingers.

But then the street ahead dropped off—suddenly and violently—into a gaping void where a chunk of the road had collapsed into a jagged ravine. Concrete crumbled at the edges, dirt and debris spilling into the hole, and a faint trickle of water echoed somewhere below.

“Shit,” Ellie muttered, pulling Shimmer to a stop. “Looks like this is where we walk.”

Dina leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the gap. “No way she’s making that jump.”

“Not unless she grew wings,” Ellie added dryly, already swinging her leg over to dismount.

They both climbed off Shimmer’s back, boots crunching on broken glass. Dina gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck before turning and pointing toward a nearby storefront—a former tire repair shop, its signage half-hanging, the garage doors blown open.

“We can put her in there,” Dina said. “Safer than leaving her out in the open.”

Ellie gave a small nod, guiding Shimmer by the reins as they made their way to the shop. A spray of faded graffiti lined the outer wall, warnings in red paint, but it looked quiet enough—for now. Quiet was never a guarantee, but it was the best they’d get.

“Alright, girl,” Ellie murmured as they led Shimmer inside. “Be good. We’ll be back soon.”

Dina gave her one last stroke along the neck before they secured the garage door halfway closed, enough to keep her hidden but still let in air.

Ellie glanced up at the broken skyline, eyes narrowing. Across the street, the second floor of the neighboring building looked like it had once connected to the roof of the shop they were in. Someone had crudely laid out wooden planks across the rooftops, warped and weathered by time, but still intact.

“There,” Ellie said, pointing. “Looks like our way across.”

Dina followed her gaze and nodded. “Worth a shot.”

They jogged across the empty street, boots crunching on broken pavement. Ellie reached the shattered window of the old storefront first, vaulting through with practiced ease. She landed in a crouch, boots stirring a small cloud of dust as Dina climbed in after her.

The room they stepped into was dim, lit only by the fractured daylight filtering through the grime-caked windows. It was a music shop—once, probably even a nice one. Posters for long-forgotten bands peeled from the walls. Busted amps sat in a lazy stack near the far wall, and a tangle of microphone cords trailed across the floor like dried-out vines. Guitars hung limply from snapped wall mounts, their strings broken and curled like spider legs. A glass case at the front counter was shattered, its contents picked clean save for a cracked tambourine and some busted pedals.

“Man,” Ellie breathed, looking around. “Imagine this place when everything was still intact. You could just… goof off. Play whatever you wanted.”

Dina walked past a leaning speaker tower, kicking gently at a pile of cracked vinyl sleeves. “I bet we could scrounge up enough to start a band.”

Ellie smirked. “You don’t know how to play anything.”

Dina put her hand to her chest with mock offense. “Excuse me, I could definitely figure it out.”

Ellie shook her head, amused, and wandered toward a long row of records that lined the back wall—many warped by heat or covered in a film of dust, but some miraculously intact. She pulled one from the tight shelf, brushing off the cover. “Smashing Pumpkins—Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness,” she read aloud, raising her eyebrows. “No way.”

Dina turned at that. “That the one you made me listen to front to back when you first got to Jackson?”

Ellie held the album up, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Hell yeah. We listened to it, like, a hundred times.”

Dina hummed noncommittally, picking up a broken drumstick from a nearby kit. “Yeah. It was alright.”

Ellie furrowed her brows, mock-offended. “Alright? Why the hell did you listen to it with me so often if you didn’t even like it?”

Dina rolled her eyes and walked over to the drum kit, crouching to test one of the still-standing toms with a soft tap. “Because,” she said, glancing up at Ellie with a small smirk, “I thought your stubborn little ass was cute.”

Ellie froze for half a beat—then quickly looked away, cheeks flushing a faint pink. “…Oh.”

Dina stood and casually tossed the drumstick from one hand to the other. “Still do.”

Before Ellie could muster a retort, Dina turned her attention to the dusty old drum kit behind her. She dropped into the stool, leaned forward with exaggerated focus, and gently tapped the pads with the broken drumstick—softly at first, then a little harder. The sound that came out was… awful. Off-beat, arrhythmic, one drumhead still loose enough to make a dull whump sound with every hit.

Dina didn’t seem to care. She grinned wide, tapping out what might’ve been a solo in an alternate, less coordinated universe.

When she finally looked up at Ellie, her expression was pure mischief. “So? What’d you think?”

Ellie blinked at her, arms loosely crossed, then slowly shook her head like she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “…I love you.”

Dina’s grin widened. “Damn right you do. I totally kicked that drum’s ass.”

Ellie laughed, the sound surprised out of her. “Oh yeah. You murdered it.”

“That’s it,” Dina said, standing up and throwing the drumstick over her shoulder. “We’re starting a band.”

“Maybe you can be my groupie instead,” Ellie said with a smirk, stepping closer.

Dina blinked. “A what?”

Ellie shrugged, vaguely gesturing with the album still in her hand. “From what Joel told me… it’s like, someone who follows the band around. Big fan energy. Usually sleeps with the lead singer.”

Dina raised a brow, eyes dancing. “So basically what I’m already doing now?”

Ellie’s mouth opened, then closed. “…Uh. I guess so.”

Dina laughed, stepping up close and slipping an arm around Ellie’s waist. “Then consider me your number one groupie, rockstar.”

Ellie smiled, soft and private, and leaned her forehead against Dina’s. “You’re the worst drummer I’ve ever heard.”

“Yet somehow, still the hottest,” Dina whispered.

“God, that’s annoying,” Ellie muttered—and kissed her.

Dina smiled as she pulled away, the warmth of the kiss still lingering between them. “Alright, rockstar,” she said, voice teasing but fond, “let’s see if there’s any supplies left in this dump.”

Ellie gave a small nod, eyes already scanning the room again. “Yeah. Never know what might be stashed in a place like this.”

She turned toward the narrow staircase tucked behind the counter. The wood creaked under her boots as she made her way up, the sound muffled by years of dust and decay. The upper floor was dim, lit only by a narrow strip of light bleeding through a boarded-up window. It had probably once been an office or storage room—now it was just a clutter of forgotten things.

Ellie moved through slowly, her fingers brushing over broken furniture and scattered papers. An overturned filing cabinet sat by the wall, drawers halfway open, their contents spilling like guts. She rifled through one, pulling out a few rags and a half-full bottle of rubbing alcohol. Useful enough. She stuffed them into her pack and moved on.

The next room over had a half-collapsed ceiling, but something on the floor caught her eye—a long, rectangular shape beneath a torn sheet. She stepped over the debris and crouched down, pulling the fabric aside.

It was a guitar case.

Her breath hitched just slightly. Ellie reached out and unlatched the case with careful fingers, the metal clasps clicking open with a sound that echoed in the quiet.

She lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled against the velvet lining, was a guitar—intact. Not perfect, but close. The wood was rich and warm, the strings glinting faintly in the light. No cracks, no broken frets. The moment she saw it, a smile bloomed across her face, soft and instinctual.

“Yes,” Ellie breathed, almost to herself.

She ran her fingers lightly over the strings, drawing out a soft, clear hum that made her chest ache. It was warm, delicate, and familiar in a way that almost hurt. She shifted the guitar into her lap, adjusting the strap carefully over her shoulder. Her fingers moved instinctively, testing the tuning pegs, plucking each string and listening intently. One by one, she coaxed the instrument into perfect tune, the notes clearer and smoother with each adjustment.

Then, without really thinking about it, Ellie started to play.

A slow, haunting melody spilled out—one she knew by heart. Her voice followed, low and hesitant at first, almost a whisper:

“If I ever were to lose you…”

The words barely filled the room, but the emotion in them lingered, reverberating in the dust-heavy air.

She was halfway through the line when she heard movement behind her.

Dina stood in the doorway, arms crossed loosely, watching with a gentle curiosity in her eyes. “What was that?”

Ellie’s hands faltered for just a second, her cheeks coloring as she shook her head quickly. “Nothing.”

Dina arched a brow, unconvinced. “Hmm. Well, ‘nothing’ sure sounds nice.”

Ellie let out a short laugh, brushing her thumb over the strings. “Thanks,” she murmured, the corner of her mouth lifting.

Dina stepped further into the room, her eyes drifting around the space—the shattered windows, the water-damaged walls, the broken desk in the corner. Then she looked back at Ellie. “You think people still make music? Like… the old way? Before all this?”

Ellie plucked at the strings absently, the sound soft and thoughtful. “I mean… I write my own stuff sometimes. So yeah, I’d be surprised if no one else does.”

Dina’s eyebrows rose. She tilted her head, visibly intrigued. “Wait—there are Ellie Williams originals out there that I’ve never heard?”

Ellie’s fingers paused on the frets, and she rubbed the back of her neck, eyes suddenly avoiding Dina’s. “It’s not like that. I never really finish them. Just… ideas, y’know?” She gave a little shrug and looked back down at the guitar, her fingers fidgeting across the strings like they needed something to do.

Dina didn’t say anything at first—just moved quietly, settling cross-legged at Ellie’s feet with a soft thump on the dusty floor. She looked up at her with steady eyes, a half-smile tugging at her lips.

“I wanna hear one.”

Ellie hesitated, her fingers hovering over the strings. “They’re not… good,” she muttered, glancing away again. “They’re just scraps. Half-thoughts.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Dina said gently. “You don’t have to impress me. I just wanna hear you.”

Ellie let out a breath, her shoulders slumping slightly as the resistance drained out of her. She sat there for a moment, eyes closed, like she was combing through the thoughts in her head, lining them up, deciding which ones she could give away.

Then she opened her eyes and looked at Dina.

“…Okay.”

Dina’s smile deepened, soft and earnest.

Ellie shifted the guitar a little higher on her lap, her fingers moving slowly to shape the chords. She plucked the opening melody—gentle, smooth, a bit raw around the edges but carried with a careful kind of grace. It wasn’t flashy or complicated. Just honest.

Then she sang.

Not loud. Not polished. But full of something warm and unguarded:

“I don’t know much about forever,

But I know the way you breathe when you’re asleep.

I don’t believe in fate or angels,

But you say my name, and my knees go weak.”

Dina blinked, her expression softening, lips parting slightly—but she said nothing, afraid to break the spell.

“I never planned for something golden,

In a world that burns and fades to black.

But every time you laugh, it’s a map I follow,

And I don’t ever wanna turn back.”

Ellie’s voice wavered just a little on the last line, and her fingers stilled. She stared down at the strings, swallowing, suddenly very aware of how quiet the room had become—of how loud her heart felt in the aftermath.

She risked a glance at Dina.

Dina didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at Ellie like she was trying to memorize every inch of her. Then, finally:

“…Is this about me?”

Ellie gave a small, awkward huff, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Maybe.”

Dina leaned forward, her voice low, serious now. “That was beautiful.”

Ellie shifted on the stool, giving a bashful half-shrug as she muttered, “It’s alright,” eyes darting anywhere but Dina’s face. Her voice was quieter now, a little hoarse with vulnerability, like the weight of what she’d just sung was still settling in her chest.

Dina rose from the floor slowly, brushing dust from her jeans as she stepped in close. Without a word, she reached out and cupped Ellie’s face, her hands warm and grounding. Ellie froze for a heartbeat, then leaned into the touch like instinct.

Dina leaned down and kissed her—soft and slow. Not rushed, not teasing. Just true. Then she pulled back slightly, her voice barely above a breath.

“That’s the best song I’ve ever heard.”

Ellie scoffed, looking away to try and hide the flush creeping up her neck. “You need to listen to more music.”

But there was a smile on her lips she couldn’t quite smother.

Dina tilted her head, smirking. “So… did you write any more songs about me?”

Ellie hesitated, then gave another noncommittal shrug, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Maybe.”

Dina grinned, triumphant. “When we get back to Jackson, I want to hear all of them.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “All of them?”

“Every. Single. One.”

Ellie raised a brow. “What if I say no?”

Dina leaned in again, her lips brushing Ellie’s ear as she whispered, “If you ever want to have sex again… you’ll play them for me.”

Ellie groaned, dropping her forehead against the guitar in defeat. “You drive a really hard bargain.”

Dina laughed, brushing her fingers through Ellie’s hair. “And you’re not gonna win this one, rockstar.”

Ellie peeked up at her, cheeks pink, but her smile was genuine. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll do it,” Dina said smugly, turning to wander the room again.

Ellie looked down at the guitar in her lap, fingers slowly sliding across the strings as she plucked out the melody again—softer this time, just for herself.

Ellie sighed softly, the last notes of her song fading into the quiet of the abandoned shop. She stared at the guitar a moment longer, thumb brushing over the edge of the wood, then gently placed it back into its case. The lid closed with a muted thump, the sound oddly final.

She stood, adjusting the strap of her pack and stepping out of the room. Her boots echoed faintly against the warped floorboards as she made her way down the hallway, dust dancing in the pale light filtering through the windows. At the far end, she found a rusted fire exit door hanging slightly off its hinges.

She pushed it open with a creak, stepping into the open air. A cool breeze greeted her, carrying the faint smell of rain and rot. A narrow metal ladder clung to the wall, leading up to the roof.

“Hey!” Ellie called over her shoulder. “Found a way up!”

Behind her, Dina’s voice echoed faintly. “Be right there.”

Ellie grabbed hold of the ladder and began to climb, boots clinking softly against the rungs. Dina followed close behind, steady and silent.

When Ellie reached the top, she pulled herself onto the rooftop—and immediately froze.

Bodies.

Half a dozen of them, maybe more, sprawled in a crooked line like broken dolls tossed aside. Their clothes were threadbare, dirty rags that didn’t match any faction Ellie had ever seen. Some looked ritualistic, almost ceremonial. One body—too small to be an adult—was curled into another’s arms. Flies buzzed lazily through the humid air, the smell of rot hanging thick and cloying.

They were fresh. Days old at most.

Above the bodies, scrawled in angry, dripping red across the rooftop wall, were the words:

HER LOVE DIDN’T SAVE YOU

Ellie’s brow furrowed, her hand instinctively drifting toward the grip of her pistol. A sour feeling turned in her stomach.

Behind her, a sudden retching noise broke the silence.

She turned quickly to see Dina doubled over, one hand braced on the low wall, the other clutched over her stomach as she vomited onto the concrete.

“Shit—Dina,” Ellie said, hurrying over and placing a steady hand on her back. “Hey, hey. You okay?”

Dina nodded quickly, though her eyes were squeezed shut and her breaths came fast. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine. Just… the smell. The—fuck, the kid.”

Her voice broke slightly at the end, and she gestured weakly toward the smallest body in the pile.

Ellie swallowed hard and looked away, jaw tight. “Yeah. The people here are seriously fucked.”

Dina wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then slowly straightened, pressing her palm gently to her stomach. Her fingertips lingered there, the gesture subtle but filled with meaning—until she noticed Ellie glancing back.

She quickly dropped her hand.

“Let’s… just get across,” Dina said, her voice raw as she turned toward the makeshift plank bridge spanning the rooftop gap.

Ellie nodded, sparing one last look at the graffiti before stepping carefully onto the bridge. “Yeah. Let’s move.”

Behind her, Dina paused. She shut her eyes, breathing in slow and deep as she smoothed her hand once more across her stomach—quieter this time, more tender.

Then she followed.

---

Ellie squinted down at the map, her brows furrowed in concentration. The faded paper crinkled in her hands as she traced a route with her finger, eyes narrowing at a shape in the distance—a tall, rectangular building just visible over the rooftops. A pale blue tarp flapped lazily atop it, like a makeshift signal.

“That’s gotta be it,” she muttered, folding the map and tucking it back into her pocket.

Turning around, she spotted Dina a few feet behind, leaning against a crumbling brick wall. Her hands were braced on her knees, her chest rising and falling in slow, labored breaths. Sweat clung to her temples, and her eyes were slightly unfocused.

“Hey,” Ellie said softly, walking over. “You okay?”

Dina lifted her head with a faint nod. “Just… a little winded. I’ll be fine.”

Ellie didn’t look convinced. “You sure? We can stop if—”

“I’m sure,” Dina interrupted, managing a tired but reassuring smile. “But we should find somewhere to crash soon. It’s gonna be sundown before long.”

Ellie glanced up at the darkening sky. The sun was already beginning its descent behind the skyline, washing everything in a tired orange glow. She gave a small nod. “Yeah. Couple more blocks. Then we hunker down.”

Dina’s shoulders eased slightly, relief flickering in her eyes as she pushed off the wall and fell into step beside Ellie.

They walked in silence for a while, their boots crunching over broken glass and debris that littered the crumbling street. The warzone around them only grew more visceral with every step. Burned-out cars and shattered windows framed the path ahead like tombstones. Rusted FEDRA signs hung lopsided, riddled with bullet holes.

Bodies were everywhere.

Some old—bones wrapped in the remnants of uniforms or riot gear, their armor tagged with slurs and symbols.

Others were fresh.

Too fresh.

A corpse slumped against a telephone pole, riddled with bullets, a blood trail still wet beneath him. Another lay facedown in the street, arms sprawled as if they’d fallen mid-run.

Ellie’s grip tightened on her rifle. Her eyes scanned the shadows in the doorways, the rooftops above. The feeling crept up her spine like static: they were being watched.

She slowed, her body tensing as she switched to her pistol. “Something’s not right,” she murmured.

Dina looked up, frowning. “What is it?”

“I don’t know… I just—”

BOOM.

The world erupted in sound and light. A deafening explosion ripped through the air, sending Ellie flying backward. Her ears rang violently as she hit the pavement hard, the breath knocked clean out of her.

A second later, pain surged through her ribs, and she let out a strained groan.

“Dina—” she gasped, twisting her body.

Dina had been thrown too, her body rolling off the road and into the overgrown gutter. Dust and smoke clouded the air, and Ellie could barely make her out through the haze.

“Dina!” Ellie tried again, her voice raw as she crawled toward her.

But then—

Voices.

Footsteps.

Close.

She turned, spotting a glint of metal—a rifle—just as her hand closed around her own fallen weapon.

Before she could aim, a figure stepped out of the smoke. A man in scavenged armor, face smeared with ash, his expression hard and cold.

Ellie raised her gun. “Fuck y—”

The butt of his rifle cracked against the side of her head.

Stars exploded behind her eyes.

And then—

Nothing…

Meanwhile, below, Dina hit the ground hard with a painful thud, the impact knocking the breath out of her lungs. She gasped sharply, her chest heaving as she lay for a moment, trying to steady herself.

“God, I fucking hate Seattle,” she muttered through clenched teeth, wincing as a sharp ache radiated through her ribs.

With a grunt, she pushed herself up, one hand pressed firmly against the cracked pavement for support. Her fingers brushed against cold shards of glass and grit as she crawled toward her fallen gun. She snatched it up, the weight of the weapon a small comfort in her trembling hands.

Suddenly, a rough voice barked from somewhere above, harsh and clipped. “Go down there and get her. I’m taking this one back to base.”

Dina’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. Through a jagged fissure in the concrete—cracks like spiderwebs in the floorboards—she caught a glimpse of the scene above.

A man was dragging Ellie’s limp body over his shoulder, her head lolling against his chest. The stranger’s bulk was imposing, his movements deliberate and unhurried. 

“Fuck,” Dina breathed, heart lurching as she scrambled to her feet.

She ducked behind a collapsed section of wall, her knees hitting hard against the concrete as she forced herself upright. Her lungs burned, ribs aching from the fall, but adrenaline pushed her forward. She scaled the crumbling incline quickly, boots slipping on loose gravel. From the corner of her eye, she saw two figures begin climbing down the side of the structure she’d fallen from—soldiers, their weapons raised, shouting back and forth.

“They’re looking for me,” Dina hissed under her breath, pressing her back against a rusted AC unit as she peeked over the ledge.

Above, the man carrying Ellie hadn’t stopped. He was disappearing down the street with purpose, heading east—away from the blast site, toward the skeletal remnants of the city. Dina ducked again, blood roaring in her ears. She waited until the voices of the men below faded, their boots crunching away in the opposite direction, before slipping over the lip of the concrete ledge.

She moved like a shadow—sticking to alleyways, crawling under rusted fences, and darting from one broken-down vehicle to the next. Each step was measured but quick, her eyes never leaving the bulky silhouette ahead.

The streets around her were carved with decay and war. More corpses littered the sidewalks—some hanging from makeshift gallows, FEDRA uniforms still rotting on their bones. Others were recent. Fresh blood soaked into cracked pavement, their bullet wounds still dark and wet, flies already beginning to swarm. Bullet holes pocked the sides of buildings. “WLF” and “LIBERATE SEATTLE” were spray-painted in frantic strokes across shattered storefronts. The entire city felt like it had been gnawed on by war, then left to rot.

And through it all, Dina followed.

Her grip on her gun never loosened, even as her palms turned clammy. She moved between the skeletons of buildings, slipping through broken glass and hallways swallowed by mildew. Once, she had to stop—sudden nausea rising in her throat as the distant smell of burning plastic and rot caught her off guard. She pressed her hand to her mouth, swallowing the bile back down.

“These people,” she murmured to herself, voice tight, “are fucking insane.”

Still, her eyes stayed locked on her target.

She watched from behind a rusted bus as the man finally slowed at the edge of a large chain-link fence. Beyond it stood what had once been a school—long abandoned and eaten by nature. Its brick exterior was partially crumbled, windows shattered, vines crawling up its flanks like veins. A faded banner above the entrance read Greenwood Middle School, but most of the letters had peeled away.

The man hoisted Ellie’s unconscious body higher and stepped up to the front entrance.

Two guards stood outside—both armed, their mismatched armor looking scavenged. One leaned against the wall smoking, while the other paced in tight, agitated circles. A set of sandbags formed a crude barricade around the door. From this distance, Dina could make out the markings painted onto the guards’ jackets: WLF

“What the fuck is WLF?” she muttered, wiping a hand over her face in frustration. Her skin was sticky with sweat and dust. “Too many fucking groups in this city.”

Every corner of Seattle seemed to belong to someone different—raiders, zealots, survivors with cult vibes, FEDRA remnants. She didn’t know what the WLF stood for, but it didn’t matter. They had Ellie.

Dina scanned the front entrance again. No way she could take both guards head-on and live. Not unless she wanted to get ventilated. She needed a quieter way in—somewhere they weren’t watching.

Her eyes drifted upward, searching the brick face of the school, then caught on a rusted fire escape ladder clinging to the side of the building. It extended halfway down, a few missing rungs near the bottom, but it was climbable. And if she could make it to the roof, maybe there was a skylight… or a vent… anything that would get her inside.

“Alright,” she whispered, more to steel herself than anything.

Crouching low, Dina darted from her hiding spot and bolted across the lot. She stuck close to the shadows, her breath shallow, heart pounding in her throat. The pacing guard turned his back just in time for her to slide behind a cracked stone planter. She waited a beat, then took off again—zigzagging between overgrown bushes and toppled bike racks until she reached the side of the building.

The ladder loomed overhead, metal flaking from age and weather. Dina jumped, catching the lowest bar with her fingertips and pulling herself up. Her muscles screamed in protest—her body still sore from the fall earlier—but she grit her teeth and hauled herself upward.

Halfway up, she paused, chest heaving.

Suddenly, her stomach lurched.

A hot wave of nausea rolled through her, nearly sending her back down the rungs. She doubled over instinctively, one hand clutching her side as she leaned her forehead against the cold metal of the ladder.

“Not now,” she hissed under her breath, eyes squeezing shut.

Her body trembled with the effort of holding it together. Her mouth was dry, her limbs heavy. Her free hand gripped the rung so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Ellie’s in there. Ellie needs me.

Dina forced herself upright again, blinking past the spots in her vision. She took a few shallow breaths, then kept climbing—one slow, aching rung at a time. The wind was stronger on the roof, carrying the sharp, acrid tang of smoke and something metallic. She crept across the tarpaper, boots soft against the surface, ears tuned for voices or movement below.

She didn’t know what she would find inside that building. But she knew one thing with absolute certainty:

She was getting Ellie out—no matter what it took.

---

Ellie groaned as consciousness dragged her back into the world. Her head throbbed in dull, angry pulses, the left side of her face sore where she’d hit the pavement. Slowly, she lifted her head off the cold linoleum floor, blinking as her vision struggled to focus.

The room was dim, the only light filtering in from a cracked skylight overhead, where grime blurred the sunlight into pale streaks. Dust motes floated lazily in the air. Rows of old, rusted school desks were lined haphazardly against the walls, their tops scarred with years of scratches and graffiti. Posters peeled from the walls—faded reminders of a world long gone. The faint smell of mildew and blood lingered.

A figure sat across from her—too still.

He leaned back in a metal chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. A faded baseball cap shadowed half his face, but his eyes were sharp beneath the brim, studying her like she was some strange animal. Ellie’s knife spun lazily between his gloved fingers, glinting as he toyed with it.

“Well,” the man said finally, voice rough, almost amused. “Good morning, sunshine. You mind telling me who the hell you are?”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. Her mouth was dry, and her wrists ached—ziptied tightly behind her back. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, but her glare didn’t waver.

“Yeah,” she muttered, “my name’s fuck you.”

The man barked a short, humorless laugh, more air than mirth. “Cute.”

In a blink, he was up from the chair. He crossed the space between them with a few easy strides and crouched beside her. Ellie froze as the cold press of steel met her throat—her own knife now turned against her, the familiar weight of it an insult in his hand.

His voice dropped low. “Who are you really with? Scars?”

Ellie frowned. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

He leaned in a little closer, the brim of his hat nearly brushing her forehead. His breath was stale, tinged with chewing tobacco. “So I’m supposed to believe some random girl just wandered into Seattle strapped with a shitload of weapons and ammo?” he growled, voice low and disbelieving. He tapped the flat of the blade against her skin—not enough to cut, but enough to remind her it could.

Ellie gave a tired blink, blood still pounding in her ears. “Just sightseeing,” she muttered, mouth curling into a half-smirk.

His face twitched—displeased—and he stared at her a beat too long before snarling, “Wrong answer.”

Without warning, his hand cracked across her face—hard. Ellie’s head snapped to the side, pain blooming across her cheekbone. Her vision blurred briefly, a metallic tang flooding her mouth. She spat to the side.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she asked, laughing dryly as she slowly turned her head back to him. “’Cause you hit like a bitch.”

The man tensed. His lips curled like he was about to retaliate again, but then the door slammed open with a loud bang.

Another man stepped inside, his frame broad, dark hair pulled back in a short tie. His rifle hung over his shoulder, and his expression was tight with frustration.

“Jordan,” the new arrival snapped, “you’re supposed to be out looking for the other one! What the fuck is this?”

Jordan rose from his crouch slowly, the blade dropping away from Ellie’s throat. “I was trying to get some goddamn intel,” he grumbled, stepping back and jerking a thumb toward her. “Figured she might be with the Scars.”

“I told you already,” Ellie cut in, voice strained but defiant, “I don’t know who the fuck that is.”

Jordan spun toward her. “Shut the fuck up!” he barked, venom in his voice.

The other man ignored the exchange, already moving deeper into the room. His eyes flicked to Ellie—taking her in, measuring something—and then turned back to Jordan.

“We should radio Isaac,” Jordan said, pacing now. “Tell him we found stragglers. She’s armed, and the other one’s probably not far—”

“I already did,” the man interrupted, his voice clipped. He unshouldered his rifle with practiced ease. “Isaac gave new orders.”

Jordan paused. “What orders?”

The man raised the gun, leveled it straight at Ellie’s face.

“Kill all trespassers.”

The air went still.

Jordan’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?” He stepped forward fast, pushing the barrel aside just before the man could pull the trigger. “Hold on—what the fuck? That doesn’t make sense! She might have intel.

The other man’s voice was sharp, clipped. “It’s a direct order, man—”

“No,” Jordan said, firm now. “Let’s talk to her. Figure out what she knows—”

“I don’t give a fuck what she knows!” the man shouted. “You saw what she did to the others.”

Ellie’s brows drew tight. Others? What the hell was he talking about? She and Dina hadn’t crossed paths with anyone from this group until now. But then—her stomach turned. Tommy. Maybe he got here first. Maybe he left a trail of bodies behind them.

Jordan shook his head, clearly rattled. “You don’t know how many people she’s with. This could be an ambush, Mike—”

“I don’t care how many people she’s with!” Mike snarled. “We’ll find them. We’ll kill them.”

“Can you just think for yourself for one second—?”

“Jordan,” Mike snapped, his tone final, “get the fuck outta my way.”

He shoved past him hard and raised his gun toward Ellie again.

Everything seemed to freeze for half a breath.

Then—a gunshot cracked through the air, sharp and echoing. The skylight above exploded in a spray of glass. Mike’s body jerked violently before crumpling to the ground, a dark hole blown clean through his skull.

Ellie flinched hard as shards of glass rained down, slicing the air with a hiss. She twisted in her restraints, heart thundering in her chest, and barely registered the second body crashing through the opening above.

Dina hit the floor with a heavy thud, glass scattering around her, a cry of pain slipping from her lips.

“Dina!” Ellie yelled, voice cracking, her whole body straining against the zip ties binding her wrists. She could see her—just a few feet away—Dina groaning, dazed, trying to scramble upright with blood at her temple.

Jordan spun in place, shocked, his eyes darting from Mike’s lifeless body to the woman who’d just fallen through the ceiling. Recognition hit him too late.

“You—!” he shouted, drawing his pistol.

But instead of shooting, he lunged toward her and grabbed Dina by the throat, hauling her up off the floor. She gagged, clawing at his arm, her feet kicking against the air as he drove her back into one of the desks with a crash.

“No!” Ellie screamed, voice ragged.

Frantic now, she twisted her arms, dragging her wrists toward the nearest glint of broken glass. Her foot nudged a jagged shard across the floor, close enough—just close enough—until her fingers brushed it.

She grabbed it and drove her wrists against it with sharp, frantic motions. Her skin split, but the zip tie tore with it.

The second her arms were free, Ellie surged forward. Jordan didn’t see her coming.

With a cry that tore from the depths of her chest, she rammed the jagged shard of glass straight into the side of his neck. His eyes went wide in stunned horror. Blood sprayed in a hot arc across Ellie’s shirt as he staggered back, gurgling, hands flying to the wound.

Dina dropped to the floor with a gasp, crumpling over as she coughed and wheezed, her hand flying to her bruised throat.

Jordan stumbled, made a choking sound—and then collapsed beside Mike’s body, twitching once before going still.

The room fell into heavy silence, broken only by Dina’s rough breathing and Ellie’s own pounding heart. Ellie dropped the bloodied shard, falling to her knees beside Dina, cupping her face with shaking hands.

“Hey—hey, you okay?” she whispered.

Dina coughed again, rubbing at her throat, her voice hoarse. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just… Seattle can go fuck itself.”

Ellie gave a breathless laugh, but it was dry—tight in her chest. Her eyes flicked over the two corpses bleeding out across the floor. She wiped her hands on her jeans, smearing the blood into dark streaks.

She exhaled through her nose and muttered, “I think Tommy pissed these guys off.”

Dina blinked, head snapping toward her. “How?”

Ellie shifted, grabbing her knife from the floor before standing. “That asshole—Mike or whatever—he said something about their people getting taken out. I think Tommy’s been leaving a trail.”

Dina’s expression turned grim, then hopeful. “So… he might be close?”

Ellie nodded, tightening her grip on the knife. “Maybe. If we can make it outta here, maybe we’ll find out more.”

But before Dina could respond, shouting echoed from the hallway just outside. Heavy boots. Barked orders.

Ellie tensed. “Shit. We gotta go.”

“Yeah,” Dina said, scrambling to her feet, already moving toward the double doors. “Come on—”

The doors burst open just as they neared, and a woman in a ratty tactical vest raised her rifle.

“There they are!”

Gunfire rang out, and both girls dove behind an overturned desk, bullets splintering wood and peppering the walls.

Ellie ducked low, heart hammering. “Who are these fucking people?!”

“Fucking psychos!” Dina growled, blind-firing over the desk before peeking out—and then landing a clean headshot on the woman. Her body dropped hard, gun clattering to the tile.

More footsteps thundered up the hall.

“Shitshitshit,” Ellie hissed, swinging her pack around. She yanked out a bottle of alcohol, shoved a rag into it, and lit it with trembling fingers.

Dina fired again to cover her.

Ellie popped up and hurled the Molotov toward the door.

The bottle shattered midair, flames whooshing out across the hallway. Screams rang out as two guards went up in flames, thrashing wildly against the walls and one another. The hall erupted in smoke and fire, giving them precious seconds.

“This way!” Ellie shouted, grabbing Dina’s wrist and yanking her toward the back of the room.

There, a sagging bookcase had toppled against the wall, creating a slanted ramp to a shattered upper window. Bright light from the fading sun cut through the smoke.

Dina didn’t hesitate. She scrambled up first, boots skidding on the tilted wood, Ellie right behind her.

Gunfire erupted behind them again, but they were already hauling themselves through the opening, boots scraping against concrete as they rolled onto the open rooftop—free for now, lungs burning, hearts racing.

They ran.

Boots thudding hard on the gravel-covered roof, the WLF soldiers shouting behind them—closer now. The shots came faster, tearing through vents and snapping past their ears. Ellie turned and fired blindly over her shoulder, the report of her pistol deafening, while Dina ducked behind an old AC unit for cover and returned fire with sharper precision.

“Go, go, go!” Ellie barked, grabbing Dina’s arm.

They leapt down from the ledge, landing rough in the broken street below—Ellie hitting her knee, Dina stumbling on a roll. But neither stopped. A car screeched around the corner, its engine roaring, doors open, rifles jutting out of the windows.

“Fuck!” Ellie yelled.

Gunfire erupted in a deafening wave, peppering the ground around them. Dina grabbed Ellie’s hand, eyes wide. “This way!” she shouted, tugging her hard as they tore across the cracked pavement.

They sprinted down a narrow stairwell wedged between two buildings, shadows swallowing them up as gunfire screamed past. More shouting followed, echoing through the alley behind them. “They’re heading for the tunnel!”

There up ahead—a jagged hole torn into the side of a wall, half-obscured by debris and rusted fencing. Dina didn’t slow. She dropped to her knees and crawled in, Ellie sliding in behind her, fingers scrambling through dirt and grime.

Everything went black.

They fell into silence, the chaos muffled behind layers of concrete. Ellie fumbled for her flashlight, flicking it on with trembling fingers. The beam of light cut through the pitch-dark tunnel, catching the glint of dripping water and crumbling stone.

Dina turned hers on a second later, their faces pale and streaked with dirt, both of them gasping for air.

They sat back against the cold wall, the only sound now their ragged breathing and distant shouts far behind them.

Ellie glanced sideways. “You okay?”

Dina nodded, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Yeah. I just… I really fucking hate this city.”

Ellie huffed a laugh, teeth gritted. “Yeah. Same.” 

Dina dragged her hand across her damp forehead, flicking away sweat. “These people are fucking crazy,” she muttered, voice hushed but shaking with frustration. “We could’ve been refugees—scared, needing help. They didn’t even care.”

Ellie nodded grimly, her jaw tight. “Yeah… this place’s not like Jackson. Doesn’t seem like anyone here gives a shit about helping anybody.”

With a wince, she pushed herself to her feet, groaning softly as her back protested. She extended a hand to Dina. “C’mon.”

Dina took it, fingers cold and calloused in Ellie’s grip. As she stood, she gave Ellie a tired look. “First chance we get outta this tunnel, we’re finding somewhere to lay low. Somewhere quiet.”

Ellie gave a short nod. “Deal.”

Flashlights on again, they pressed forward. The tunnel dipped into a long flight of stairs coated in grime, the steel handrails rusted and flaking beneath their touch. As they descended, the tunnel widened into a forgotten underground train station—cold and heavy with decay.

Crumbling tile lined the walls, long-faded murals barely visible beneath layers of dirt and moss. Old train cars sat crooked on the tracks, derailed and rusting through. Rainwater dripped from the ceiling in steady plinks, pooling on the cracked concrete below. The air was thick—musty, damp, and stinking of mildew and rot.

They walked quietly between stacked crates and toppled luggage, the silence stretching until—

A sudden flicker of red light cut through the gloom.

Ellie froze, eyes narrowing. “Shit,” she hissed, grabbing Dina’s arm and pulling her down behind a crate.

Just down the platform, a flare burned on the ground, casting shadows against the derelict walls. WLF soldiers were down there—at least a dozen of them—sweeping the area with flashlights and rifles raised.

“They couldn’t’ve gone far,” one of them muttered. “Split up. Find them.”

Ellie ducked lower, heart pounding as footsteps echoed across the cavernous station. No cover. Too many of them.

She glanced to Dina, then toward a closed maintenance door tucked in the corner, half-hidden behind a pillar. A sound echoed softly from inside. A faint, familiar clicking.

Ellie turned back to Dina, voice low. “Do you trust me?”

Dina blinked at her, nodding instantly. “Of course.”

“Then stay right here,” Ellie whispered. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

Dina looked like she wanted to argue—but didn’t. She nodded again.

Ellie crouched low and crept toward the door, her movements silent and practiced. She wrapped her fingers around the rusted handle, giving it a small tug. The door creaked open a sliver—and the noise inside sharpened.

Clickers.

Five of them.

They twitched and jerked in the shadows, pale fungal growths blooming from their skulls. Their heads turned blindly at the faint sound, but they hadn’t noticed her yet. Not fully.

Ellie reached for a bottle nearby, her fingers steady despite the sharp thrum of her pulse. She crouched behind the wall, sucked in a deep breath—and threw.

Glass shattered across the far end of the station.

“What was that?” one of the soldiers shouted.

All at once, the clicking stopped.

Then—roaring.

Screeching.

A blur of movement burst from the room as the clickers charged into the station, limbs flailing, jaws snapping. Chaos erupted instantly—gunshots and panicked shouting filled the air.

Ellie didn’t look back. She ducked low, crawled back to Dina, and yanked her toward a gap between two train cars.

“Go, go!” Ellie whispered harshly, dragging Dina with her as chaos exploded behind them. Gunfire cracked like lightning, screams echoing through the station as the clickers tore into the WLF patrol.

They sprinted, ducking between overturned benches and scattered debris, weaving their way through rusted train cars. But something was wrong.

The sounds grew louder.

More guttural.

Less human.

There were more than just five clickers.

As they pushed through the next car, a new chorus of shrieks and snarls filled the air—deep, wet-sounding, unnatural. Ellie paused only long enough to hear someone behind them scream, “There’s a shambler!”

She turned to Dina, face twisted in alarm. “What the fuck is a shambler?”

Before Dina could respond, a thunderous blast rocked the tunnel—a thick, choking cloud of green mist puffed up behind them, followed by a bloodcurdling wail. Somewhere in the smoke, people were screaming. Dying.

Ellie didn’t wait to find out. “Nope. Nope. Fuck that.”

She grabbed Dina’s arm again and shoved forward through the tight corridor of the last train car, their boots clanging against rusted metal. Their flashlights bounced across graffiti-streaked walls and shattered glass as they reached the car’s far end—only to find the tunnel beyond collapsed. Rubble piled high, half-burying the wreck of a train that jutted out at an angle like it had been shoved there in a quake.

“Shit,” Ellie breathed, scanning for a way through.

“There—” Dina pointed toward the rear door of the train car. Its frame was warped but not sealed, light bleeding faintly through the cracks.

Ellie rushed over, wedging her fingers into the narrow opening. “Help me!”

Dina was already at her side, bracing her feet as she pulled with both hands. The old metal shrieked in protest.

Behind them, the tunnel shook—literally shook—as something heavy splashed through stagnant water and crunched over corpses and cement. The air thickened with the stench of acid and rot.

Ellie risked a glance over her shoulder—and froze.

Lumbering from the smoke came a creature half-hidden in shadow. It was hulking, its body a mass of swollen fungal sacks, throbbing with sickly orange fluid. Its skin sagged in sheets where it hadn’t already calcified into armor-like growths. And it hissed, loud and wet, before letting out a violent, choked roar.

A Shambler.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ellie whispered, yanking harder on the door. “Come on, come on—”

The metal gave, just enough. She slipped her hand in and shoved it wider. Dina scrambled through first, then Ellie dove after her, slamming the door shut behind them just as the shambler slammed its bulk into the glass with a heavy WHAM.

The glass cracked—deep spiderweb fractures bloomed across it, dust and glass particles hissing to the floor.

Ellie backed away fast, heart hammering, staring as the monster’s fist hit the glass again. It didn’t break—but it wouldn’t hold forever.

Dina was bent double, catching her breath, coughing through the lingering stink. “I don’t know what the fuck that was…”

Ellie didn’t answer right away. She just stared at the trembling glass, then turned her flashlight deeper into the dark. “Let’s not stick around to find out.”

They slipped away from the shattered window and through the next car, footsteps careful and hushed. The air was heavy with mold and smoke, every creak of metal echoing just a little too loud in the tunnel’s oppressive silence.

Ellie’s flashlight flicked forward—catching a glimmer. Faint, but unmistakable.

“There,” she whispered, pointing. A jagged beam of sunlight bled through the crumbled ceiling ahead. “That’s our way out.”

Dina nodded silently, still clutching her gun like a lifeline, and followed close behind. They wove through the final rusted train cars until Ellie spotted a pile of debris forming a crude ramp. She climbed up, boot scuffing against rusted metal, and hoisted herself atop the train car. Dina followed, the two of them pausing only for a second before Ellie leapt across the gap to the cracked concrete beyond.

She landed hard, knees jarring, but didn’t stop. “Come on,” she called.

Dina landed beside her a beat later, and they both took a second to breathe. Above them, escalators stood frozen mid-ascent, dust-covered and overgrown. Time had stripped the place of its purpose. Ellie gestured up. “Let’s head that way. Might lead to the street.”

But then—

A sharp yell. Then another.

Ellie’s head snapped toward the sound—movement behind a bent chain-link fence. She saw them: runners—dozens of them—scrambling, climbing over each other like rabid dogs to get over the barrier.

“Run!” Ellie shouted, shoving Dina toward the escalators as she raised her gun. “Go, go, go!”

They took off, boots slamming the concrete, their gear rattling against their backs. Behind them, the infected shrieked—high-pitched, blood-curdling—and the fence gave way with a metallic clang, releasing a flood of death.

They bounded up the broken escalator, two steps at a time, more infected emerging from cracked doors and collapsed hallways. The horde closed in from every direction.

Just as they reached the top, Dina’s boot slipped on a metal edge slick with grime. She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her.

“Dina!” Ellie skidded to her knees, grabbing for her—but it was too late.

A clicker was already there, dragging itself up from behind. Its mouth gnashed open and shut, fungal growths crusted over its blind face, its clawed hands locking onto Ellie’s leg and yanking her down.

She kicked, hard, her heart in her throat as it shrieked in her face, reeking of rot and death.

Then—

BANG!

The clicker’s skull exploded. Gore sprayed across Ellie’s shirt and Dina’s shaking hands held the still-smoking pistol. Her breath hitched, but her eyes were wide, steady.

“Get up!” Dina screamed.

Ellie shoved the clicker’s twitching body off her and scrambled to her feet. Together, they ran, the moans of the dead behind them swelling in volume.

They reached the emergency gate—tall, rusted, half-collapsed. Ellie shoved with everything she had, the metal groaning under pressure. The gap was just wide enough for her to squeeze through, and she did, hand extended to pull Dina after her.

Dina pushed forward—

Then screamed.

A runner had grabbed her from behind, sinking its blood-slick fingers into her shoulder, dragging her back.

“No!” Ellie shouted, panic flaring white-hot in her chest. Without thinking, she shoved her arm back through the gap, wedging her body between the doors, reaching.

Her arm locked around Dina’s. She yanked.

Then pain—searing, sudden.

Teeth sank into her forearm. The runner bit down hard, shaking its head like a dog with a chew toy.

“Ellie!” Dina shrieked in horror.

Ellie’s world tilted, her vision narrowing—but she didn’t let go. Dina fumbled for her gun, aimed over Ellie’s shoulder, and fired.

The runner’s head jerked back with a splatter of red and black. It collapsed, lifeless.

Ellie dragged Dina through the narrow gap just as the gate slammed shut behind them, the infected on the other side snarling and pounding against the rusted metal. The body of the runner, crumpled and bloodied, wedged perfectly into the lower corner of the gate—just enough to jam it, for now.

“Come on,” Ellie said, her voice flat, brisk—like nothing had happened. She didn’t even glance at her bleeding arm as she stepped forward, boots splashing in shallow puddles. The rain had started to pour again, drumming against the crumbling pavement and abandoned cars.

Dina, still hunched and breathless, remained frozen behind her, her wide eyes locked on Ellie’s back. The world narrowed around her—the static in her ears loud and relentless. Her fingers tightened around her pistol, but she couldn’t will her legs to move yet.

Ellie turned, blinking water from her lashes. “That theater,” she said, nodding to the looming, decrepit building across the street. A marquee still hung above it, the letters long since blown away, one side collapsed from storm damage. “Looks solid. Should be a good place to hold up.”

She gave a small, impatient wave. “Come on,” she repeated, already starting to jog across the street.

Dina followed—mechanically—her boots sloshing through rainwater. Her gaze never left Ellie. She couldn’t. Her mind screamed at her, kept flashing back to the bite, the blood, the way Ellie hadn’t reacted.

Inside the theater, Ellie pushed at the door. It didn’t budge at first. She braced a foot against the frame and shoved harder until it groaned open with a burst of damp air. The makeshift barricade of chairs and shelving scraped loudly across the floor, toppling inwards.

Ellie waited in the doorway, gesturing Dina inside. “Get in. I’ll bar it again.”

Dina stepped in slowly, almost as if in a trance. She hadn’t said a word since the bite. Ellie closed the door behind her and dragged one of the heavy chairs back into place, lodging it under the handle. The dim lobby was bathed in gray light, dust motes swirling lazily in the glow from the broken windows.

Ellie straightened, brushing her damp curls from her eyes. “Not bad,” she muttered, turning to face Dina. “It’s dry. Has cover. Think there’s a second floor, maybe—”

She stopped.

Dina hadn’t moved from where she stood. Her body was tense, her breathing shaky, and her eyes—red-rimmed, filled with tears—were locked on Ellie with something between grief and panic. And her hands, trembling, were holding her pistol.

Pointed directly at Ellie’s head.

Ellie’s stomach dropped.

“Woah,” she said softly, hands raising instinctively in surrender. “Hey. Hey. It’s me.”

She took a step forward, cautious.

“Don’t move!” Dina’s voice cracked, raw and panicked. Her finger twitched near the trigger. “Just—don’t come closer.”

Ellie froze, hands still up, nodding. “Okay. Alright. I’m not moving.”

Dina’s breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling like she’d just run miles—not from exhaustion, but from panic. Her grip on the pistol trembled violently, knuckles white. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill, and her entire body was taut with the kind of terror that came not from fear of dying—but fear of loss.

“Dina…” Ellie said gently, her voice low, soothing. “Baby, listen to me—”

“Stop,” Dina snapped, voice breaking. “Don’t—don’t call me that right now.”

Ellie swallowed hard, her hands still up, fingers twitching. Her voice cracked slightly despite how hard she tried to stay composed. “I love you,” she said. “I love you so much.”

“Ellie—don’t,” Dina choked out, her finger pressing harder against the trigger. “Don’t say that. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Ellie took a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving Dina’s. “Please. Just listen to me, okay? I’m not infected.”

Dina’s eyes flicked down, hesitating, then locked on the fresh bite on Ellie’s forearm. Blood was smeared along pale skin, the wound still raw, red, unmistakably real. Her grip on the pistol didn’t waver, but her breath hitched—hard.

“That—” Dina’s voice broke as she blinked through tears. “That’s a bite, Ellie. A fucking bite. I saw it. I watched it happen.”

Ellie nodded, slow, steady. “Yeah. You did.”

Dina’s arm trembled as she raised the gun a little higher, square at Ellie’s forehead. Her finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger.

“Dina,” Ellie said, voice flat now, raw with urgency, “do not fucking shoot me.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m immune.”

Dina’s brows furrowed, her whole body stiff with disbelief.

Ellie’s voice was tight, her throat dry. “I told you. That night—at your place. I told you I was bit. That I never turned.” Her eyes flicked to the gun and then back to Dina. “You thought I was joking. I wasn’t.”

Dina’s head shook once—then again, faster, messier, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No. No, Ellie… that—” Her voice wavered, collapsed inward. “That’s not possible.“

“I know how crazy it sounds. But it’s the truth.”

Dina’s lips parted like she wanted to say something—but nothing came out.

Ellie pressed forward, voice quiet but firm. “Nothing will happen to me, Dina. You have to trust me.”

Dina’s hands faltered, her shoulders hitching with a silent sob. Her eyes flicked from the bite to Ellie’s face, desperately searching for any crack, any sign of a lie.

Ellie raised her hands again—not in surrender, but gently, like she was trying to reach across a void without crossing it.

“Look,” she said, motioning with a slight tilt of her head toward the far corner of the room. “There’s a sofa. I’m gonna walk over there, alright? I’ll sit down. I’ll wrap the wound. You can keep the gun on me the whole time. I won’t make a move. I won’t try anything.”

Dina didn’t answer. She just stared at her, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“I’m not infected,” Ellie said again. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I won’t turn.”

More silence. Then, slowly, Ellie started to back away, inching toward the couch with measured steps, her eyes never leaving Dina’s tear-streaked face.

She eased down onto the dusty cushions with a quiet sigh, wincing as her muscles protested. Rain tapped steadily on the broken windows above like impatient fingers. Her fingers found a scrap of an old T-shirt tucked into her bag—clean enough—and she used her teeth to tear it into strips. She wrapped the bite with practiced ease, tugging the cloth tight and tying it off in a knot, then dabbed away what blood she could.

Across the room, on the other side, Dina stood like a statue. Her arm was still raised, her finger still curled against the trigger. The gun never wavered.

“If it makes you feel better,” Ellie said, her voice low and dry, “you can tie me up.”

Dina didn’t respond.

Ellie glanced up.

The woman she loved finally moved—not to answer, but to slowly sink into the chair opposite the couch, her back stiff, her expression hollow. The pistol still rested in her lap, both hands around it like she was afraid of what might happen if she let go. Her knees bounced, ever so slightly. Her jaw twitched. Tears still clung to her lashes.

The only sound in the theater now was the steady drum of rain hitting the roof, seeping through holes in the rafters, dripping softly onto the ruined velvet carpet. Time seemed to slow. Ellie leaned her head back, the exhaustion catching up to her all at once, dragging her down into sleep before she could fight it.

Darkness.

Then—

CRACK.

A sharp peal of thunder shattered the stillness like a gunshot. Ellie jerked upright, heart pounding, breath caught in her throat. Her eyes darted to Dina—who hadn’t moved. Not really.

The gun was still pointed at her.

Ellie blinked away the fog of sleep, her voice hoarse. “The storm woke me. That’s all.”

For a beat, neither of them spoke. The only light was from the lightning that split the night sky outside, throwing long shadows across the theater seats.

Ellie held her hand out, palm flat, facing up. Her fingers were steady. “See? I’m not shaking. No fever. No twitching. No change.”

Her voice softened even more. “I told you, Dina. I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this.”

For a long moment, Dina didn’t move. Then, slowly, she rose from the chair—stiff and hesitant—her knees almost buckling as she stood. The gun in her hands was still pointed directly at Ellie, though her grip was shaky now, uncertain. Her lips parted like she was going to speak, but it took her a few breaths to find her voice.

“Are you really immune?” she asked, barely louder than the rain.

Ellie nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her tone gentle, patient. “I am.”

Dina’s brow furrowed. Her eyes flicked down to Ellie’s arm, to the wrapped wound, and then back to her face.

“If you’re worried I’ll infect you,” Ellie added carefully, “I won’t. That’s not how it works. I can’t spread it. I can’t… hurt you.”

The storm rumbled again, low and distant. Dina stood frozen, the weight of the pistol heavy in her trembling hands—until finally, with a clatter that echoed through the abandoned theater, she let it drop.

Ellie barely had time to process it before Dina surged forward.

Arms wrapped tight around her, desperate and clinging, the weight of Dina’s body all but collapsing into her lap. She didn’t say anything at first—just buried her face against Ellie’s neck, clutching her like she might disappear at any second.

Then, muffled through tears, Dina whispered, “I was so scared. I thought I was gonna lose you. That I couldn’t tell you I’m—”

Her voice broke, a sob catching hard in her throat. She shook in Ellie’s arms, not from cold but from the flood of adrenaline and fear and relief all hitting her at once.

“I’m here,” Ellie murmured, holding her close, arms strong and secure around her waist. “I’m right here. I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ellie held Dina tightly, her hands gently smoothing down her back, grounding her with every slow breath. Dina clung to her like a tether to reality, face buried in Ellie’s shoulder as her sobs slowly ebbed into trembling exhales. The storm outside rumbled on, thunder rolling like distant drums across the city, but inside the theater, there was only the sound of two heartbeats, gradually syncing.

Ellie rested her cheek against the top of Dina’s head, eyes fluttering shut, her thumb tracing idle circles against the small of her back. “It’s okay,” she whispered, not sure if Dina even heard her. “We’re okay.”

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. The tension in Dina’s body slowly melted, her grip loosening only slightly but never fully letting go. Ellie felt the shift when Dina’s breathing evened out, soft and slow, the occasional hitch still catching in her throat.

She didn’t let go.

Eventually, Ellie felt herself slipping too—her body heavy, exhausted from the chase, the fight, the fear. The weight of everything—the city, the secrets, the storm—pressed in around them, but there was warmth in the way Dina’s arms stayed wrapped around her, even in sleep.

Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, for the first time in what felt like days, there was silence.

---

Ellie stirred with a soft groan, blinking against the dim gray light filtering in through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. The steady patter of rain had softened overnight, now a gentle whisper against the roof. Her body ached as she sat up slowly, limbs stiff from sleeping on the lumpy couch. She rubbed a hand over her face, yawning—

Then froze at the sound of retching.

Her head snapped toward the far end of the theater, where she saw Dina hunched over, one hand braced on a support beam, the other clutching a dented metal bucket. Her body lurched again with another heave, raw and miserable.

“Shit—Dina,” Ellie said, all the sleep vanishing from her voice. She was on her feet in an instant, rushing over and crouching beside her, her hand already pressing gently to Dina’s back in soothing strokes. “Hey, hey, you okay?”

Dina let out a weak laugh between shallow breaths, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “God, I must look so hot right now.”

Ellie snorted, despite the worry on her face. “Always,” she said softly, brushing a few damp strands of hair from Dina’s forehead. “Seriously, what’s going on? Was it something you ate? You sick?”

Dina didn’t answer right away. Her lips parted, then closed again. She looked at Ellie—really looked at her—eyes wide, glossed with something deeper than illness. Fear. Guilt. Something fragile.

Ellie’s brows drew together, her hand pausing on Dina’s back.

Finally, Dina drew in a trembling breath, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words hit Ellie like a punch to the chest. Her stomach dropped, blood turning to ice. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared at Dina as the words echoed in her head, repeating, hollow and loud.

Ellie’s voice came out flat, stunned. “Pregnant.”

She stood too quickly, the sudden movement making her sway. Her hands shook as they hovered near her sides, fingers flexing, then clenching into fists. Her heart pounded in her chest like it was trying to break free.

She took a step back, eyes wide. “What—how… how the hell could this happen?”

Dina, still hunched near the bucket, tried to force a smile that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “I mean…” She gave a small, broken laugh. “You were there. Willing participant, remember?”

But Ellie didn’t even blink at the joke. No eye roll. No sarcastic smirk. Her face had gone pale, the panic creeping in around the edges.

“How long have you known?”

Dina looked away, her hand absently gripping the side of the bucket, knuckles white. “I… I started suspecting a couple weeks ago. I was late. Really late.”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. “A couple weeks?” Her voice jumped a little too loud, cracking around the edges. “Dina, a couple fucking weeks? We could’ve turned around—we should have turned around.”

Dina’s eyes dropped again, guilt clear in the tight line of her mouth. “I wasn’t sure,” she murmured, her voice unsteady. “The birth control shots from the clinic—sometimes they mess with your cycle. And with all the stress, the running, the travel… I thought maybe that was all it was. I didn’t want to make it a thing unless I was sure.”

Ellie’s face twisted—frustration, fear, confusion all crashing into one. “You should’ve told me,” she snapped, her voice sharp and low, cutting through the space between them.

“I didn’t know,” Dina said quickly, eyes pleading. “I wasn’t sure, okay? I didn’t want to be a burden—”

“Well, you’re a burden now, aren’t you?” The words came out before Ellie could stop them, her voice edged with anger, panic pushing past reason.

Dina’s face went still.

The hurt in her eyes landed like a punch to Ellie’s gut. Her breath hitched, her mouth opening to take it back, to say anything else—but nothing came. Just that terrible, hollow silence.

Ellie’s expression crumpled, and she turned away, dragging a hand across her face. “Shit,” she muttered, more to herself than to Dina.

She forced her voice steady. “I’m gonna… check the place out. See if the power still works.” She didn’t look back. “Just… rest, okay?”

Before Dina could get a word out, Ellie was already turning, footsteps heavy as she crossed the theater and ascended the stairs two at a time. The creak of her boots on the old wood echoed through the hollow space.

Dina watched her go, lips parted like she might call after her—but didn’t. Instead, her hand instinctively drifted to her stomach, fingers splayed lightly across her abdomen, her expression unreadable—somewhere between fear, guilt, and a fragile kind of hope.

Upstairs, Ellie moved fast, like she could outrun the conversation, outrun the truth. Her breath came shallow, her chest tight as she reached the top of the landing. The second she rounded the corner and was out of sight, her legs gave out beneath her.

She collapsed against the wall, sliding down it like a marionette with its strings cut, landing hard on the dusty floorboards. Her back hit the peeling wallpaper, and she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, trying to breathe—trying to think.

“Pregnant,” she whispered, the word tasting foreign in her mouth. Unreal. Heavy.

She let her hands fall, staring blankly across the empty hallway.

“She’s pregnant.”

The thought rolled over her again, louder now, echoing.

“I’m gonna be—fuck.”

Her voice cracked as she said it aloud, her jaw tightening. She swore again under her breath, curling her knees up and pressing her forehead against them, her fingers digging into her hair. The storm outside whispered against the windows, rain trailing down the glass like veins, as Ellie sat there frozen, trying to process a future she never saw coming.

The quiet pressed in on her, thick and suffocating. Only the distant hum of rain, the occasional groan of the old theater walls, and the sound of her own breathing filled the space. Ellie sat still, curled in on herself like she could fold the panic down, smother it with her body and pretend it hadn’t just been dropped on her like a bomb.

A baby.

She couldn’t even say it in her head without flinching.

The silence gnawed at her, a steady pressure behind her ears as the word baby pulsed in her skull like a migraine. She didn’t move for a long time, just sat there with her arms clamped around her knees like they were the only thing holding her together.

She didn’t know shit about kids.

She barely knew how to take care of herself. She was an orphan, for fuck’s sake. No bedtime stories, no packed lunches, no soft touches or whispered reassurances. The only thing she knew about being loved like that came from Joel—and he was lying in a goddamn bed, barely breathing, unable to offer even a few words of advice.

Her hands clenched into fists. “Fuck,” she muttered again, venomless but full of weight. Then she forced herself to move, pushing up to her feet like gravity was heavier than usual.

She wandered the second floor of the theater, letting her boots scuff against the floor just to hear something besides the storm and her spiraling thoughts. She passed dusty velvet curtains and cracked frames of old show posters, light catching on the faded colors. This place had a kind of forgotten beauty to it—like time had stopped mid-performance and never started again.

A storage room door creaked under her hand. Inside, shelves sagged under the weight of dust and neglect, but tucked behind a stack of cardboard boxes, she spotted a few cans—some fruit, a questionable can of tuna, and a dented container of beans. Not exactly gourmet, but it was something. She shoved them into her backpack with a quiet, bitter huff.

“Pregnant people need to eat more, right?” she mumbled under her breath.

She kept moving, the hallway narrowing as she pushed farther into the upper wings. An old dressing room sat ajar. Inside, it looked like someone had once lived there—probably during the height of the outbreak. A worn sleeping bag, a few yellowed paperbacks, the dried husk of what might’ve been food once. It was untouched, abandoned. Lonely.

Ellie looked around, then reached down to pull the blanket and pillow from the corner. She held them for a moment, staring. Dina should be comfortable, shouldn’t she? That was the least Ellie could do.

She turned, muttering again—this time quieter, almost to herself. “Fucking pregnant.”

Her grip tightened around the old bedding as she stepped back into the hallway. Another door stood at the far end, half open, leading further upstairs. Ellie’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t noticed it before.

She hesitated—then started toward it.

Ellie placed the bedding down near the wall, giving it one last glance before drawing her pistol from her waistband. Her fingers curled around the grip, tension settling deep into her shoulders as she stepped toward the half-open door at the end of the corridor. The hinges creaked faintly as she pushed it open.

It led to another narrow stairwell, cloaked in shadows and the damp scent of mildew. She ascended cautiously, each footfall muffled by the old carpeting beneath her boots. At the top, the stairs split into two paths. To her right was a narrow hallway with a cracked window at the end—the fire escape barely visible through streaks of rain on the glass. To her left, a closed door stood slightly ajar.

She moved left, pushing the door open slowly with her gun raised.

Inside was a makeshift workshop, dim and cluttered. An old metal table sat near the far wall, scattered with half-finished tools, busted electronics, and a lantern with a burnt-out wick. Against the back wall, mounted shelves leaned under the weight of coiled wires and rusted parts. In the center of the mess, like a forgotten relic, sat a dusty two-way radio.

Ellie holstered her gun and stepped closer, flicking one of the knobs on the radio.

Nothing. Dead.

Her jaw tensed as she let out a sharp exhale through her nose. Of course it needed power.

Her eyes scanned the room and landed on a folded piece of paper pinned beneath a wrench. She picked it up and unfolded it carefully. The ink was smudged in places from water damage, but the message was still legible.

Power went out again. Rain’s probably shorted the generator—again. I’m gonna climb up and check.

Ellie’s shoulders sagged slightly as she lowered the note. Figures.

She turned and then walked toward the window, her reflection a vague blur in the rain-slicked glass. Popping the latch with a quiet grunt, she shoved it open. Cold air and rain swept into the room, the downpour now steadier, heavier, but not quite as punishing as earlier.

She stepped out, boots landing with a muted clang on the fire escape platform. The city looked washed out, a haze of steel and shadow under the rain. Her eyes scanned the ladder—thankfully still chained up and secure so no one could climb up from below.

Good.

She adjusted the strap of her pack, tightened her grip on the railing, and turned toward the metal ladder that led upward to the roof. One step at a time, she climbed, the chill cutting through her.

She needed to do this. She needed something to fix. Something useful.

Anything to distract her from the weight of what waited below.

The roof was a patchwork of decay and survival—ivy spilled out of broken concrete seams, vines crawled up rusted piping, and tufts of stubborn grass had claimed whole corners of the rooftop like little green islands. Nature had clawed its way in and held on tight.

She moved carefully, boots squelching against moss-slick surfaces as she made her way toward a squat utility shed tucked in the far corner. The small building was crusted with grime, its door half-hanging from its hinges, but still standing. Ellie approached it slowly, reaching out to push it open.

The air inside was heavy and metallic, reeking of oil, wet wires, and something sour.

Her eyes adjusted quickly, and that’s when she saw him—slumped in the corner near the generator, his bones long since picked clean but still tangled in the remnants of a heavy work coat. One hand was fused to a metal panel, blackened fingers curled mid-motion. The cable beside him had melted into the wall, fused from some kind of surge.

“Damn,” Ellie muttered, stepping over the threshold. “That’s… not how I wanna go.”

She crouched beside the generator, wiping rainwater off the rusted control panel with the edge of her sleeve. Her fingers moved with quiet precision—Joel had shown her this more than once. Fuel lines, ignition, prime.

She flipped the switch.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the machine coughed once—twice—and roared to life, its shuddering rumble pulsing under her boots. The lights inside the shed flickered on, buzzing faintly.

Ellie let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thank fuck.”

She stood, giving the dead man a quick glance. “Sorry, buddy. Thanks for keepin’ the seat warm.”

Turning, she made her way back down into the theater. The air inside was immediately different—warmer now, lit by the faint glow of working emergency lights. As she reached the upper floor, a burst of static made her flinch.

The radio.

Ellie hurried back into the workshop. The old two-way crackled to life, full of garbled white noise and occasional pops. She adjusted the knobs, tapping the casing. “Come on… give me something.”

Nothing. Just static.

With a growl of frustration, she gave it a firm smack. The radio jolted—and a small metallic clink hit the floor.

She crouched, blinking in surprise as she found a key lying on the dusty floor. It must’ve been dislodged when she hit the radio. The keychain was rusted but still readable: STAGE.

“Huh,” Ellie murmured, turning the key over in her hand. She tucked it into her pocket and stood.

A slow breath pushed through her lungs as she made her way back downstairs, each step heavier than the last. She passed through the rows of crumbling halls, finally arriving at the dim-lit theater lobby. There, on the couch, Dina lay curled up, back turned, a jacket loosely pulled around her shoulders. Her breaths were soft, shallow—probably asleep.

Ellie lingered, the blanket still in her hands. Quietly, she moved closer, draping the comforter gently over Dina. She let her fingers brush the woman’s hair—just for a second—before pulling back and heading toward the stage doors.

She found the lock easily and slid the key in.

Click. 

The door opened with a low creak.

Ellie stepped through, and for a moment, everything else melted away.

It was untouched.

A sprawling performance hall stretched before her, still cloaked in silent grandeur. Velvet seats rose in perfectly neat rows, unmolested by time. The chandeliers above hung like frozen stars, their crystals dull but intact. The stage, framed by thick red curtains, loomed like some forgotten monument.

Ellie let out a soft breath. “Wow…”

She walked slowly down the aisle, her footsteps echoing gently over the scuffed floor. Her fingers trailed the backs of the theater chairs as she passed, imagining them filled—an audience leaning forward in rapt attention.

She could almost hear music, laughter, the thunder of applause.

Joel would’ve loved this place.

“Shit,” she whispered to herself. “He would’ve gone crazy over this…”

For a moment, she let herself picture it—Joel sitting beside her, nudging her ribs, making some corny joke about high society. Ellie smiled faintly. Then, like smoke, the image slipped away.

She stood in the center aisle, staring at the stage. It was strange how something so empty could feel so alive.

Her boots echoed softly as she climbed the side steps, her hand trailing along the polished wood of the railing. At the top, Ellie stood at the edge of the stage, eyes sweeping the sea of empty seats as though expecting someone—anyone—to be out there watching. She tried to imagine the buzz of conversation, the dimmed lights, the swell of anticipation just before a show began. Her chest tightened at the thought.

Then something caught her eye.

Near the back of the stage, half-crumpled on the floor, was a faded flyer. She walked over and crouched to pick it up. The paper was worn soft from age, but the text was still legible:

“Midnight Drift - First Time Live! September 26th.”

Ellie let out a small breath through her nose. “Damn,” she muttered. “Talk about bad timing.”

She folded the flyer and slipped it into her pocket.

Behind the thick curtain, the backstage area was dim and cluttered, long-forgotten props and folding chairs stacked in corners like relics from a past life. That’s when she saw it—leaned upright against the wall, covered in a layer of dust, but unmistakably intact: a guitar case.

Ellie blinked, heart giving a quiet jolt. “No way…”

She crossed the floor quickly, kneeling to pop open the latches. The hinges creaked, the case groaned as it opened—and inside was a six-string acoustic, gleaming like it had been waiting just for her. The wood was flawless, polished to a soft shine. She touched it reverently, fingertips tracing the neck before she lifted it out, cradling it like something fragile.

Ellie walked back out and sat in the first row, settling the guitar across her lap. Her fingers moved on instinct, tuning it carefully, head tilted as she listened to the pitch. The pegs turned smooth. Still in perfect shape.

“If I ever were to lose you… I’d surely lose myself…”

Ellie let the final note hum through the air, soft and low, before her fingers stilled. She sighed, the weight of the day pressing against her chest like a sandbag. Carefully, she leaned her head back against the seat, the guitar still resting across her lap.

“Fucking pregnant,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, the words scraping past her lips like gravel.

Her eyes closed.

It wasn’t the pregnancy itself that rattled her. Not really. It was everything that came with it—the danger, the uncertainty, the responsibility. She had dragged Dina all the way out here, through flooded tunnels and packs of infected, through goddamn fire and ruin. And the whole time, Dina had been carrying more than just a rifle.

Ellie swallowed, guilt rising bitter and sharp in the back of her throat. She should’ve noticed. Should’ve known.

And now… now there was going to be a baby.

Her brain tried to reject the thought, to push it away, but it kept returning like a stubborn weed.

A kid.

Their kid.

Ellie exhaled through her nose, letting her mind drift, unwilling but unable to help it. She tried to imagine what the baby would look like—what their kid might be. She hoped they’d look like Dina.

Black hair, maybe. Soft, wild, like Dina’s when it was loose. Tan skin. Big brown eyes. That lopsided smile that always made Ellie forget how to breathe.

The image hit her like a punch and then curled into something warm. Something terrifying.

Her lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile.

“Fuck me,” she breathed out, shaking her head slowly. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

The guitar strings gave a soft creak beneath her hand as she held it tighter, grounding herself with the weight.

She wasn’t sure if she was ready for any of this.

But ready or not—it was real.

---

Ellie jolted awake, breath catching as her eyes snapped open. The guitar was still in her hands, her fingers curled loosely over the strings. The low hum of fading notes had long since died, replaced by the gentle patter of rain against the roof above. She let out a soft groan, shifting in the stiff seat. Her back ached, and her neck was sore from the angle she’d dozed off in.

She blinked the fog from her eyes and carefully placed the guitar down on the velvet seat beside her, handling it like something sacred. Then she stood, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the heel of her palm. Her heart still felt heavy, nerves tangled, but there was something more pressing pulling her to move.

Dina.

She needed to talk to her. Needed to say something—anything—that didn’t sound like fear or frustration disguised as anger.

Ellie made her way up the aisle, her boots soft against the old carpet. But when she stepped out into the main floor, her heart skipped.

The couch was empty.

The blanket she’d draped over Dina still lay crumpled in place, the weight of her absence suddenly loud in the room. Ellie’s brow furrowed. She turned toward the theater doors—they were still barricaded. No signs of entry or exit. No infected had gotten in.

She didn’t leave.

Ellie’s heart beat a little faster as she glanced around the wide, shadowed room. “Dina?” she called quietly. No answer.

She moved up the stairs to the second level, her steps quicker now, eyes darting through the old theater’s bones. Rows of broken seats, old concession signs, crumbling walls. Still no sign of her.

Then—

A voice.

Ellie froze, brow tightening as she turned her head toward the faint sound. It wasn’t shouting. Not quite talking, either. Just… a soft murmur of speech and something else.

A retch.

Her stomach dropped as she turned toward the third floor stairwell, climbing it quickly but cautiously. Her boots scuffed lightly against the steps, her hand resting on the grip of her pistol out of habit more than threat.

She reached the hallway and then the door at the top and pushed it open slowly.

There, sitting in front of the old radio, was Dina—her back slightly hunched, one arm braced on the table. The other clutched the rim of a metal bucket beside her, her shoulders trembling as she retched again, weak and dry.

“Shit, Dina,” Ellie muttered, stepping inside. The worry hit her like a fresh wave. The room smelled faintly of rust, rain, and bile.

Dina wiped her mouth with an old, stained rag she must’ve found nearby, then glanced up at Ellie with tired, glassy eyes and a ghost of a smile. “You still find me hot, right?” she croaked, voice raw from vomiting.

Ellie gave her a dry look, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “Always,” she muttered, moving toward her. “Why the hell are you up here?”

Dina shrugged faintly, resting her head against the table. “I woke up… and didn’t want to just lie there.” She nodded toward the radio. “Figured I could try to feel useful.”

Ellie’s eyes flicked to the radio, the old thing crackling softly with occasional bursts of static and low voices.

“You got this thing working?” Ellie asked, her voice colored with a mix of surprise and concern.

Dina offered a weak grin. “Turns out the antenna was snapped. I went up to the window, jiggled it into place, and boom—static with the occasional asshole yelling.”

Ellie crouched beside her, placing a steadying hand on her back. “And you thought climbing around with a bucket in one hand and your stomach in knots was the right move?”

Dina’s grin turned sheepish. “Like I said… useful.”

Ellie sighed, shaking her head, though there was something fond in her frustration. She looked back at the radio. “Who’s broadcasting?”

Dina leaned forward slightly, adjusting the dial with sluggish fingers until the voice came through clearer.

“That WLF group,” she muttered. “The ones who gave us that… warm welcome.”

Ellie’s lip curled. “Bunch of dicks.”

Dina let out a breath of agreement, closing her eyes.

Ellie stared at the radio a second longer. “Have they said anything about the Ark?”

At that, Dina’s brow furrowed faintly. “Nothing yet. Just patrol reports, movement checks, a bunch of code stuff I can’t crack. But I’ve been listening…

Ellie leaned closer. “You find anything useful?”

Dina gave a small nod and reached beneath the table, pulling out a folded, slightly damp map. She spread it out across the surface, smoothing the creases with her palm. Faint lines marked old roads and neighborhoods, but it was the pen marks that caught Ellie’s eye—circles, numbers, and little x’s in red ink.

“Okay, so—these,” Dina said, tapping three circled spots, “are locations they keep checking in from. I marked the ones they mentioned most often, added the numbers for how frequently they were called out.”

She pointed to a spot toward the northwest quadrant of the map. “This one—number 2—comes up the most. Like, four times more than the others. I’m guessing it’s their home base. Maybe command or a supply hub.”

Ellie studied the area, her brows drawing low. “How do we get to the hotel?”

Dina dragged her finger across the map, tracing the route they’d planned. She paused near another circled spot, marked as 4. “We’d have to pass near this one to get there. Base 4. Not as active as 2, but I’ve heard at least two different patrols check in there.”

“So what—go around it?”

Dina frowned. “Not without adding a couple days to the trip. The terrain’s fucked that way—flooded or collapsed.”

Ellie blew out a breath, dragging a hand through her hair. “Great.”

Dina gave her a tired smile. “At least now we know what we’re walking into.”

After a moment Ellie exhaled sharply, her fingers fidgeting in her lap, eyes fixed on the wrinkled edge of the map rather than Dina. “Hey,” she muttered after a long pause, voice low. “I’m sorry. For what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

Dina looked at her, quiet for a beat, then smiled softly—worn down by fatigue and nausea but still warm. “I know,” she said gently, reaching out and taking Ellie’s restless hand in hers. Her thumb brushed over the back of it, slow and reassuring.

Ellie swallowed, letting her thumb drag along the edge of Dina’s fingers. “I was just… scared. Not of you. Not really. Just everything. It hit me all at once and I—” She shook her head, jaw tight. “I panicked.”

Dina squeezed her hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared too.”

Ellie looked at Dina, eyes soft and uncertain, then hesitated before slowly reaching out, resting her hand gently over Dina’s stomach. Her palm was warm and unsure against the thin fabric of Dina’s shirt, and for a second, neither of them spoke.

Dina blinked, caught off guard, a small breath catching in her throat—until she quietly laid her own hand on top of Ellie’s, threading their fingers together over the faint swell of her belly.

Ellie gave a dry, self-conscious laugh. “I don’t know shit about kids,” she murmured.

Dina let out a soft chuckle in response, the sound tired but genuine. “Yeah, well… we’ll learn. One disaster at a time.” Her voice softened again, and her gaze dropped, lashes low. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I really didn’t know for sure, and I guess I was scared too. I didn’t want to make it real until I had to.” She paused, her thumb brushing Ellie’s knuckle. “And… I’d get it. If this wasn’t something you wanted. If you aren’t ready.”

Ellie squeezed her hand, firm and without hesitation this time. “We made this kid together,” she said. “So I sure as shit am gonna raise them with you.”

Dina blinked again, and then a quiet laugh slipped out—almost disbelieving.

Ellie gave her a crooked little smile. “When we get back to Jackson… maybe Maria can officiate a wedding.”

Dina’s head snapped up slightly, eyes wide. “Wait—are you proposing to me right now?”

Ellie shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the pink climbing up her neck gave her away. “Yeah. I mean… kinda feels like the right thing to do, right? Can’t let the kid be a bastard or whatever.”

Dina scoffed, half laughing, half gasping. “Ellie!”

“What?” Ellie said, raising her hands in mock defense. “It’s not like we can go the traditional route—buy a dress, hire a photographer.”

“Oh my god,” Dina said, shaking her head as she shoved Ellie lightly in the shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”

Ellie grinned, catching Dina’s wrist before she could pull her hand away. “But I’m your idiot. Pretty sure you’re stuck with me.”

Dina softened at that, lips quirking as she looked down at their joined hands. “Guess I could do worse,” she teased, voice quiet.

“Oh, I’m the best,” Ellie said, leaning in just a little, her voice low and cocky now. “You’re lucky to have me.”

Dina let out a soft laugh, eyes shining. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered—before closing the space between them and pressing a kiss to Ellie’s lips. It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t desperate. Just warm, and full, and real. The kind of kiss that said, we made it through today.

Ellie kissed her back, hands cradling Dina’s face gently. And for a moment, the chaos outside didn’t matter. The fear, the unknowns, the weight of everything waiting beyond those theater walls—it all faded.

It was just them. And the tiny, stubborn heartbeat that hadn’t even formed yet—but already had a place in their world.

When they finally broke apart, foreheads still touching, Ellie murmured with a crooked grin, “So… is that a yes?”

Dina laughed against her lips. “Ask me again when we’re not covered in sweat and grime.”

Ellie smirked. “So… that’s a maybe.”

Dina just rolled her eyes and kissed her again.

Notes:

The one change I did like in the shoe was Dina’s reaction to Ellie being immune. Idk I thought it was more realistic. I wanted to add my own spin on it.

Also the “I’m going to be a dad” line was actually funny as hell.

Chapter 15: SEATTLE DAY 2

The morning light was weak and gray, filtered through the boarded-up windows of the theater, casting faint stripes across the room. Rain still tapped lightly against the roof, gentler now—almost soothing.

Ellie lay on her side, facing Dina, who was curled beneath a nest of blankets, her breathing steady, her brow smooth with sleep. She looked better—less pale, more rested. The color had started to return to her cheeks after a few bites of food the night before and finally getting some uninterrupted rest.

Ellie’s fingers moved slowly, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from Dina’s face. Her touch lingered, stroking lightly down her cheekbone. The skin was warm beneath her fingers, soft and real in a world that so rarely was. Her chest ached with something she didn’t have a name for—love, maybe. Fear. Some fragile, desperate mixture of both.

Dina stirred at the touch, her brow twitching before her eyes blinked open, still heavy with sleep. But when she saw Ellie, her lips curled into a sleepy, genuine smile.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice husky from sleep.

Ellie returned the smile, though hers was tinged with exhaustion. “Morning.”

Dina stretched slightly, then shifted closer, their legs brushing beneath the shared blankets. “Sleep okay?” she asked, her voice soft, concern hidden beneath the casual tone.

Ellie hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

It was a lie—she hadn’t slept more than a handful of minutes strung together. Her body had refused to settle. Every creak of the building, every gust of wind had her on edge. Some primal part of her, like a thread pulled tight inside her chest, just wouldn’t let her relax. Not now.

She reached up again, her fingers brushing the gentle curve of Dina’s stomach, still subtle but somehow impossibly real now that Ellie knew. Her hand lingered there, soft and careful, like she was afraid to press too hard—as if even the slightest touch could disturb the new life growing inside.

Ellie cleared her throat lightly. “So… how’s Ellie Jr. doing this morning?”

Dina let out a surprised laugh, the sound rich and sleepy. “Ellie Jr.?” she echoed, eyebrows raising as she turned her head to face her. “You naming them already?”

Ellie gave a small shrug, trying to play it cool despite the warmth in her chest from hearing Dina laugh. “Why not? Got a nice ring to it. Legendary, even.”

Dina rolled her eyes, amused. “What if I want Dina Jr., huh? Maybe she’ll be a tiny badass like her mom.”

Ellie smirked, sliding her palm in gentle circles over Dina’s stomach. “Okay, okay, compromise,” she said, thinking. “Dellie. Half Dina, half Ellie.”

Dina groaned dramatically, burying her face against Ellie’s shoulder. “That is an awful name. Like… actually terrible. Poor kid would get beat up in preschool.”

Ellie grinned. “Yeah, alright. We’ll workshop it.”

The two of them fell into a soft quiet then, broken only by the steady rhythm of the rain outside. Ellie kept her hand there, gentle and grounding. She looked over at Dina again, her smile dimming into something more earnest. “You feeling any better?”

Dina nodded, her cheek still pressed against Ellie’s collarbone. “Yeah. A lot better. The rest helped. And the food. And you.”

Ellie hesitated, her fingers still lazily tracing the curve of Dina’s side. Her voice was low when she finally spoke. “I’ve been thinking…”

Dina lifted her head slightly, sensing the shift in Ellie’s tone.

Ellie took a breath, then looked her in the eyes. “Maybe we should go back to Jackson.”

Dina’s brow creased in surprise as she sat up, the blanket slipping down her shoulders. “What? Why?” Her voice wasn’t defensive—just confused.

Ellie sat up too, rubbing the back of her neck. She motioned toward Dina’s stomach with a small gesture, almost sheepish but firm. “You know why.”

Dina followed her gaze, placing a protective hand over her belly as she sighed. “Ellie… I’m pregnant. Not dying.”

Ellie gave a soft snort, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah, but out there?” She jabbed a finger toward the boarded-up windows. “Out there’s full of psychos and clickers and god-knows-what. That bite back there? It could’ve been you.”

Dina looked at her, quiet, letting the words hang between them.

Ellie’s voice dropped, raw and open now. “I can’t lose you. Either of you.”

Dina’s features softened, her hand unconsciously rubbing gentle circles on her belly. “I knew what I was signing up for, El. I came with you because I wanted to. Because I love you.”

Ellie’s throat tightened. She reached out, brushing her fingers over Dina’s hand. “I know,” she said quietly. “I love you too. That’s why I’m saying we should head back.”

Dina frowned slightly, her brows drawing in. Ellie continued before she could speak.

“I’ve got a responsibility now,” she said, her voice low but steady. “To you. To…” Her eyes flicked to Dina’s belly. “To them. I can’t just keep running into fire hoping we don’t get burned.”

Dina exhaled slowly, the weight of Ellie’s words sinking in. But her gaze held firm.

“We promised Maria,” she said softly. “We told her we’d find Tommy.”

Ellie sighed, dragging a hand through her hair, her other fidgeting nervously with the frayed hem of her sleeve. “Maria’ll understand. She has to. She’s not gonna fault us for putting you and the baby first.”

Dina shook her head, her voice taking on that quiet, unwavering tone that always meant she wouldn’t budge. “Tommy… he was there for me, El. When I didn’t have anyone—when my sister and my mom were gone. He didn’t treat me like some burden. He gave me a place, a purpose. I owe him.”

Ellie closed her eyes, pressing the heels of her hands against them. God, she hated how much sense that made. And she hated even more how it only made her worry grow.

She blew out a breath and looked at Dina again, her expression weary, resigned. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

Dina gave a tired smile. “Takes one to know one.”

Ellie let out a dry, humorless chuckle as she leaned her head back against the cracked plaster wall behind them. She knew this was one of those fights she wouldn’t win—not because she didn’t have a case, but because Dina’s heart was already made up. And that heart, for better or worse, was tethered to Tommy’s fate.

Ellie let out a long breath, rubbing the back of her neck as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Alright,” she muttered, her voice quiet but reluctant. “Okay. We’ll keep going.”

Before Dina could respond, Ellie held up a hand. “But you should stay here.”

Dina scoffed, an incredulous laugh escaping her lips. “You’re serious?”

“It’s safer here,” Ellie said, trying to sound firm but coming off more desperate. “The place is locked down, it’s dry, there’s food. You’re… you’re not exactly in peak condition, Dee.”

“Once again… I’m pregnant, not dying,” Dina snapped, sitting up straighter. “You saw those psychos out there. You really think splitting up is the smarter move?”

Ellie winced as Dina continued, “What happened at the school? You were seconds from getting shot in the face. If I hadn’t come in—”

“I know,” Ellie groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. “God, I know. You don’t make this easy, you know that?”

“Nope,” Dina replied with a stubborn smile, though her eyes still carried the edge of anxiety. “Never have.”

Ellie looked at her for a long moment, then sighed, her resistance crumbling like wet stone. “Fine. I still don’t like it, but… we stick together.”

Dina leaned over, brushing a hand along Ellie’s arm, grounding her. “We always do.”

Ellie nodded, still visibly unsure. “Then we head toward the hotel. That lead we had? Maybe Tommy followed it too. Maybe he’s already there.”

Before Dina could answer, a burst of static from the radio crackled through the quiet. Both women stiffened, eyes flicking to the corner of the room where the radio was propped against the wall. The sound resolved into a voice—female, low, clipped, professional.

“All units, be advised: male intruder spotted near Zone Seven. Armed. Dangerous. Last seen moving southbound. Orders are shoot on sight.”

The transmission ended in a low crackle of static.

Ellie’s heart skipped. She turned to Dina, who was already grabbing the map, unfolding it across her lap. Her finger scanned quickly before jabbing toward a point circled in red.

“Zone Seven,” Dina murmured. “That’s… here. Just east of the hotel.”

Ellie was already on her feet, grabbing her pack and slinging it over her shoulder. “That’s gotta be him. Tommy.”

Dina nodded, folding the map with practiced efficiency and stuffing it into her bag. “Then we don’t wait.”

Ellie helped her up, giving her a quick once-over. “You sure you’re good?”

Dina’s eyes met hers, calm and certain. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

And with that, they moved swiftly through the shadowed halls of the theater, rain still hissing against the boarded windows, the storm above beginning to fade—but a new one, they knew, was waiting ahead.

---

The city stretched out before them like the carcass of something long dead—rotted and hollowed, but still towering. Buildings leaned at uneasy angles, their faces marred by deep cracks and crawling ivy. Windows were shattered, frames sagging inward like yawning mouths left open too long. Trees had burst through sidewalks, their roots splitting the concrete into jagged slabs. Nature hadn’t just reclaimed Seattle—it had devoured it.

The road beneath Ellie’s boots crunched with broken glass and gravel, the faded remnants of painted lane lines barely visible under the grime. Cars sat abandoned in the middle of the street, their doors open like they’d been pried apart by frantic hands. Vines snaked through shattered windshields, weaving in and out of rusted steering wheels and skeletal remains slumped in driver’s seats. Everything smelled of damp earth and iron.

Ellie moved ahead with her rifle slung across her chest, her posture tense, scanning each alley and shattered window for movement. Her eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, ever-watchful, jaw set tight.

“Stay behind me,” she said over her shoulder, glancing back at Dina, who followed a few steps behind. Ellie’s voice was gentle, but left no room for argument.

Dina gave a small nod, one hand resting over her stomach while the other gripped her pistol. She didn’t like being relegated to the rear, but she understood. She hadn’t been sick again this morning, but Ellie still watched her like she was made of glass—ready to shatter.

They moved in near silence, only the occasional shuffle of boots or distant crow caw breaking the hush. Overhead, the clouds sagged low and gray, rain clinging to the air like it hadn’t quite made up its mind yet.

Ellie came to a stop behind the rusted-out husk of an old delivery truck, crouching slightly and lifting her rifle.

“There,” she said, pointing past the truck and down the road.

Dina followed her gaze.

Just a block ahead, the skeleton of the hotel loomed. It stood taller than most of the surrounding buildings, its once-grand facade now weathered and streaked with moss and grime. The sign that once proudly displayed its name now hung crooked, half the letters missing, the other half faded into illegibility.

Several floors had partially collapsed inward, but the main entrance still looked accessible—barely. Sheet metal and planks had been nailed across the lower windows, though some had been pried loose, revealing dark gaps behind them.

“He’s gotta be in there,” Ellie murmured, eyes narrowed.

Dina stepped up beside her, tensing. “Then let’s hope we’re not too late.”

Ellie gave a tight nod, eyes fixed on the towering husk of the hotel as they moved. The closer they got, the more unsettling the silence became. No movement. No patrols. Just a stillness that felt wrong.

Ellie’s fingers tightened around her rifle, every step calculated. Dina kept close behind, her pistol raised, eyes sweeping the crumbled sidewalks and shattered windows. The wind brushed past them, carrying the faint scent of mildew and rot.

The hotel was surrounded by makeshift barricades—scrap metal, planks, twisted rebar. A gate stood at the front, reinforced with rusted chains and lined with barbed wire, the kind of thing meant to keep something out—or in.

“Looks like someone turned this place into a fortress,” Ellie muttered, eyeing the coils of wire.

Then came the yelling.

Distant. Ragged. Human.

Followed by the unmistakable shrieks of infected.

Both Ellie and Dina turned toward the sound, rifles raised. Their bodies tensed as shapes emerged down the block—two runners, fast and feral, scuttling toward the wall. They moved with unnatural speed, climbing the barricade like animals, fingers clawing into cracks and boards, pulling themselves up with jerky desperation.

Ellie blinked. “What the fuck…?”

Dina’s eyes were wide. “They just—climbed that. Like it was nothing.”

The infected didn’t stop to look around. They vanished through a shattered window on the second floor, their screeches fading inside.

Ellie turned to the gate and gave it a hard tug. “Locked. Figures.”

She stood back, scanning the area, then gestured to a dented trash can lying on its side nearby. “C’mon. Let’s do what they did.”

Dina nodded, already moving to help. They dragged the trash can to the wall with a loud scrape of metal on asphalt. Ellie grunted as she braced her foot on its edge and scrambled up, fingers finding purchase on a rusted pipe and jagged brick. With a heave, she vaulted over the top, landing hard in a bed of tall grass and weeds that had swallowed what was once a courtyard.

Dina followed moments later, landing with a low thud beside her.

The inside of the hotel grounds was a mess—overgrown grass nearly waist-high, old luggage rotting in the dirt, and faded patio furniture knocked over and broken. A fountain stood dry and cracked in the middle, vines curling out of its mouth like green tongues.

“This place is too quiet,” Dina murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Ellie nodded, sweeping the barrel of her rifle across the landscape. “Too quiet for something that’s supposed to be a base.”

Then came the groaning.

Low. Wet. Familiar.

Both women froze, ducking instinctively into the grass.

Through the overgrowth, an infected stumbled into view from a side hallway. Its body twitched and jerked with spasms, its head cocked unnaturally to one side as it sniffed the air, clicking and snarling.

Another followed. Then another.

Ellie’s heart pounded. Her hand slowly crept toward her knife as her other gripped the rifle tighter.

Dina leaned in, whispering, “That’s too many to fight head-on.”

Ellie nodded silently, eyes fixed on the doorway they had emerged from. Blood smeared the frame. Something had gone wrong here—very wrong.

Whatever had happened to the people inside, it hadn’t ended peacefully.

Ellie exhaled through her nose, brain working fast. “Okay,” she whispered, eyes flicking to the broken hotel entrance where the infected had disappeared. “We’ll go in quiet. See if we can find another way around them.”

She turned to Dina. “But I need you to wait here. Just for a second. Let me check ahead.”

Dina raised her brows and immediately scoffed. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Ellie gave her a tired look. “Dina—”

“You want me to wait here in a creepy-ass courtyard while you’re in there alone? With god knows how many of those things?” She shook her head. “No fucking way.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are so difficult.”

“Damn right I am.”

There was a beat of silence, both of them crouched low in the grass, staring each other down.

Finally, Ellie sighed, lips twitching slightly. “Fine. But I’m going first. Stay behind me, and if anything moves, I want you behind cover. No exceptions.”

Dina nodded, her hand tightening on her pistol. “Deal.”

They started forward, slow and careful through the overgrown courtyard, each footstep deliberate. The cracked pavement beneath them was half-swallowed by weeds, vines curling around long-abandoned patio chairs and shattered glass. The front doors of the hotel gaped open, broken from the hinges, a dark wound in the building’s once-grand frame.

Ellie moved first, rifle raised and ready. The moment they stepped into the lobby, the temperature dropped. The smell hit them like a wave—old blood, mildew, something acrid and rotten.

The lobby had once been beautiful—ornate pillars lined the walls, the cracked marble floors buried under years of dirt and leaves. A chandelier lay shattered near the center, its metal frame twisted and sharp.

Movement.

To the left.

Ellie held up a hand, fist clenched. Stop.

Two runners were shambling near the far reception desk, their backs to them. Ellie crouched, motioned to Dina, then crept silently toward them. She unsheathed her switchblade, creeping past a potted plant turned to mulch. Her heart thudded in her ears.

The first runner didn’t even sense her. Ellie surged forward, arm tight and efficient, plunging the blade into the side of its neck and dragging it down. It crumpled.

Dina was already in motion. She caught the next runner by its shoulder, dragging it backward before slamming her knife clean into the base of its skull. It dropped in a heap beside the first. The two women exchanged a quick look—silent, practiced—then dropped low again, creeping into the next room.

The door creaked as Ellie pushed it open with the barrel of her rifle. The stench hit them immediately—blood and rot, thick enough to make her gag. In the middle of the room, a runner knelt over a body, its back to them, chewing hungrily at what remained of a man’s throat.

Ellie grimaced, her nose wrinkling. “Jesus,” she muttered.

She crept forward quickly, planting her boot down on a bit of broken tile to muffle the sound. The runner didn’t notice until it was too late—Ellie buried her blade into its temple and yanked it free with a wet crunch. The infected dropped on top of the body it had been feeding on.

Silence followed.

Both women stood still for a moment, listening. Ears straining. Nothing.

Ellie let out a quiet breath, wiping the blade on her jeans before sheathing it.

Dina moved forward cautiously and crouched beside the mangled corpse. “Shit,” she murmured, brushing hair away from the dead man’s shoulder. A faded patch peeked out from under the blood-soaked jacket sleeve—a partially torn logo, still legible.

ARK.

Dina glanced up. “This one of them?”

Ellie stepped closer, her brow furrowed as she knelt beside the body. “No.”

Dina inspected the body further, her fingers brushing the blood-caked wound near the chest. “This wasn’t a runner. Bullet wound. Right through the ribs. Clean.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “Tommy.”

Dina looked at her.

Ellie stood, eyes scanning the room. “He came through here. Had to.” She pointed to the wall—two small holes punched clean through the drywall. “Probably took out more of ’em.”

Dina rose to her feet beside her, nodding. “So we’re close.”

Ellie gave a slow, grim nod, her grip tightening on her rifle. “Yeah. We are.”

They moved carefully through the dim, crumbling hallways of the hotel, stepping around broken furniture and mold-stained carpet. Vines curled in through cracked windows, swallowing what remained of once-luxurious decor. The soft creak of their boots on warped wood and the distant patter of rain outside were the only sounds that accompanied them.

As they passed door after door, Ellie kept her rifle raised, sweeping each corridor before motioning for Dina to follow. They paused often—rifling through abandoned luggage, desk drawers, toppled vending machines—grabbing what little was salvageable. A few loose rounds, half a roll of gauze, and an old can of peaches that smelled just barely edible.

Then Ellie spotted it—a door cracked open at the end of the hallway, a strange metallic scent leaking out into the air. Blood. Her steps slowed, and she raised her rifle again, motioning for Dina to stay behind her.

She nudged the door open with the barrel of her gun.

“Shit,” she breathed.

Inside the room, the light was dim, a single broken window letting in a sliver of grey sky. The two bodies sat slumped in chairs facing one another, ropes digging into their arms and legs, heads hanging low. The floor was stained dark beneath them, and flies buzzed around the dried blood.

Dina barely made it past the doorway before she gagged, one hand flying up to cover her mouth as she quickly turned around, bracing herself against the doorframe.

“You good?” Ellie asked, without taking her eyes off the scene.

Dina coughed once, then nodded weakly. “Yeah. Just… caught me off guard.”

Ellie exhaled through her nose and stepped forward, boots crunching on shards of broken glass and dried blood. She approached the first man, tilting his head up gently. His face was battered, lips split and swollen, eyes crusted shut with dried blood. Still, Ellie recognized him immediately.

“This is Mason,” she muttered, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the worn photograph. The man’s face matched.

She moved to the second body. He was worse—face nearly unrecognizable under blood and bruises, his chest barely covered by a torn shirt soaked in red. Ellie gently tilted his chin, studying what remained of his features. She checked the photo again.

“This one’s Leo.”

She took out a pen, her fingers tight around it, and scratched a hard X over both faces. One after the other. Final. Grim.

Dina stepped closer now, swallowing thickly. “Why would Tommy do this?” she asked softly, voice hoarse.

Ellie took a long breath, eyes lingering on the bruises, the bindings, the way one of the chairs was scorched underneath—like someone had tried burning the truth out of him.

“He was using them against each other,” Ellie said, her voice low, grim.

Dina frowned, stepping closer, her eyes scanning the blood-streaked floor. “What do you mean, he was using them against each other?”

Ellie knelt beside one of the corpses, her voice quiet, like it wasn’t meant for the dead to hear. “Joel told me about this… from back when he used to run with the wrong kind of people. He said—when you have two prisoners, and you want the truth, you don’t ask them together.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Dina, her expression unreadable. “You separate them. Ask one a question—make them write down their answer. Then you go to the other guy, ask the same thing. Compare them. If the stories match, maybe they’re telling the truth. If they don’t…”

Dina’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You know someone’s lying.”

Ellie nodded slowly, standing again. “Then you punish them. Or threaten to. Repeat it until someone breaks.”

Dina blew out a breath, her voice soft but strained. “Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Ellie’s tone was low, heavy with something between understanding and weariness.

Dina glanced at the two corpses again. “It’s just… hard to picture Tommy—or Joel—doing something like this. So cold.”

Ellie looked down, her hand brushing the photo again before she folded it and tucked it back into her pocket. “They had to survive. Joel told me once about the early years… right after the outbreak. It wasn’t clean. People did what they had to.”

She glanced up at Dina, her eyes steady, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. “I just… I don’t want you thinking less of them. Of him.”

Dina stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly over Ellie’s wrist. “I don’t. I get it, El. We’re not in Jackson anymore. This place, these people… it’s different.”

There was a pause, just long enough for the silence to settle thick around them—until Dina noticed something beneath the arm of one of the corpses. A stained and crumpled piece of paper.

She pulled it out carefully, smoothing it open. Faint writing scrawled in messy, uneven script marked the page.

“‘Central Library,’” she read aloud, pointing at the words. “It’s the only thing that’s legible. Think that’s where Tommy’s heading?”

Ellie stepped closer, eyes scanning the note. “Yeah… has to be. Maybe it’s a meeting point. Or maybe it’s where these Ark assholes are set up.”

Dina folded the paper, tucking it into her bag. “Then we go there. We finish this.”

Ellie gave a short nod and pulled the map from her pocket, unfolding the worn, weather-stained paper and spreading it out over the nearby table. The corners curled, edges soft from constant handling. She smoothed it flat while Dina stepped closer, already scanning the terrain like she had every inch memorized.

“Okay,” Dina murmured, her finger tapping their current location. “We’re here. Just southeast of the hotel. And…” Her finger traced a path across the map toward a blocky shape labeled CENTRAL LIBRARY in faded print. “That’s where we need to be.”

Ellie followed the line with her eyes. “Looks like a lot of ground between us and there.”

“Yeah,” Dina said, brows furrowed as she pointed to several red circles she’d drawn earlier—zones marked for patrol routes. “There are patrols all around this area. Heavy traffic. Probably checkpoints too. Getting through that way would be a nightmare.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “So we avoid it.”

Dina nodded and then pointed further south, toward a gray-shaded portion of the map—an area marked with almost nothing. Just the faded grid and a few notes in the margin: Collapsed bridge, partial flooding.

“This section,” she said, tapping it. “It’s a dead zone. No patrols, no radio chatter. Nothing. They don’t go over there.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “So either it’s abandoned… or it’s a death trap.”

Dina gave a small, humorless smile. “Exactly. It’s a blind spot. And if we go through it, we won’t be seen. But whatever’s there, we’re walking in blind.”

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck, staring at the spot in silence for a long beat. “It’s either that or risk walking into a bunch of armed assholes who shoot first and ask questions never.”

“Pretty much,” Dina said. “And we already know how welcoming they are.”

Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose and nodded. “Alright. We take the dead zone.”

Dina rolled the map back up and met Ellie’s gaze, firm and steady. “Let’s be ghosts.”

Ellie gave a faint smirk, tightening the strap on her rifle. “Yeah. Ghosts.”

---

The sun hung low in the sky, painting everything in a fading wash of gold and rust. Long shadows stretched across the fractured pavement, weaving through abandoned cars overtaken by vines and time. Bones—human and animal—littered the sidewalks like old memories left to rot. Moss and ivy crawled up the husks of buildings, creeping over shattered windows and rusted-out storefronts.

Ellie walked ahead, rifle slung tight to her shoulder, boots crunching glass and gravel beneath her. Dina kept close behind, a hand resting lightly on her pistol as her eyes scanned the rooftops and alleys. The silence was eerie—not peaceful. Just… paused. Waiting.

The walls around them were layered with graffiti, like a war of ideologies painted in color and defiance. One corner bore the faded scars of WLF insignias. Another side screamed with Seraphite scripture, thick black strokes of symbols Ellie couldn’t understand. But newer still, fresher, were markings that made her stomach twist—ARK in jagged red letters, sprayed over everything like a territorial piss line.

When they turned the corner, a looming structure came into view—a squat, battered warehouse, half-swallowed by the surrounding overgrowth. The corrugated metal walls were buckled and rusted in places, tagged with layers of warnings and claims. One of the side doors was sealed with warped planks and old chains. A toppled delivery truck sat outside, sunken into the cracked concrete.

Ellie pulled the map from her back pocket, unfolding it slowly. Her eyes scanned the landmarks, then flicked up to the building. “This it?” she asked, her voice low, cautious.

Dina stepped up beside her, glancing at the structure, then back down to the circled grid square. “Yeah. This is the dead zone.”

Ellie exhaled sharply, rolling the map back up with one hand and gripping her rifle with the other. “Figures it’d be a creepy-ass warehouse.”

She glanced at Dina. “Stay close, alright?”

Dina gave her a nod, eyes steady. “Always.”

They crossed the lot in silence, the air thick with old dust and tension. Ellie approached the side door, fingers curling around the edge of the rusted metal. She gave it a sharp tug—metal groaned in protest before giving way with a shriek, the door opening just wide enough to slip through.

Ellie turned with a small smirk. “Ladies first.”

Dina rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Not a chance.”

Ellie chuckled under her breath. “Didn’t think so.”

One by one, they slipped inside.

Darkness swallowed them almost immediately. The air was musty and stale, thick with the scent of old oil and mildew. Their flashlights clicked on with soft flicks, cutting narrow beams through the gloom.

The interior was a graveyard of the old world. Rows of rusted shelving units lined the space, filled with obsolete tech—CRT monitors, yellowed keyboards, towers cracked open and gutted for parts. The floor was littered with coiled wires, smashed light fixtures, and forgotten tools. Above them, cracked skylights let in fragmented shafts of dying light, casting odd shadows across the machinery.

Ellie stepped forward, sweeping her light across the room. “Looks like someone tried to salvage this place… and gave up.”

Dina scanned the shelves. “Still weirdly intact. No signs of recent use.”

“Dead zone,” Ellie murmured, eyes narrowed. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

They moved cautiously through the warehouse, their flashlights cutting narrow paths through the gloom. Dust motes danced in the air, disturbed by their quiet footsteps. The metal shelves loomed high on either side, casting jagged shadows that made everything feel tighter, more enclosed.

Their boots crunched softly on a layer of grime and forgotten screws, the air thick with the scent of rust and old electronics. Wires snaked along the ground like dead vines. Somewhere in the rafters above, water dripped in a slow, steady rhythm—tick, tick, tick.

Ellie broke the silence first, her voice low but casual. “I’ve been thinking.”

Dina, a step behind, gave a quiet snort. “That’s always dangerous.”

Ellie scoffed, glancing back over her shoulder with a crooked smirk. “Hey, I have great ideas.”

“Mm-hmm,” Dina murmured playfully. “That’s what scares me.”

Ellie’s smirk softened into something smaller, more sincere. She looked ahead again, her voice quieter now. “I was thinkin’… when we get back to Jackson. Maybe we could find a place together. Settle down. Like… really settle down.”

Dina blinked, the weight of the words catching her a little off guard. “Yeah?”

Ellie nodded, scanning a nearby doorway with her flashlight. “You know that farmhouse? The one out near the crop fields, past the barn? No one lives there. It’s got a wraparound porch, big windows. Kinda falling apart but… it’s peaceful.”

Dina smiled, her voice gentling. “You wanna raise a kid surrounded by chickens and dirt?”

Ellie shrugged, bashful in a way that made her voice hitch just slightly. “Could be nice. Quiet. Safe. We could fix it up. Grow our own stuff. Get a dog.”

Dina chuckled softly, her eyes misting. “You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

Ellie swallowed. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know anything about bein’ a parent, Dee. But I know I want to try. With you.”

Dina stopped walking. Her hand reached out, curling gently around Ellie’s arm, anchoring her. Before Ellie could ask what was wrong, Dina leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against her lips. It was warm, full of all the things they hadn’t said, full of all the things they were too scared to hope for.

When she pulled back, her voice was quiet but firm. “I’d love that too.”

Ellie smiled—small, crooked, real. But the moment only lingered for a heartbeat. Her brow suddenly furrowed, her smile fading as her head tilted slightly, ears straining. A sound—faint, deliberate. A footstep? Or something trying not to be one?

“You hear that?” she whispered, tension immediately back in her spine.

Dina’s brows pinched together as she paused, listening. But after a moment, she shook her head. “No. Maybe it was nothing.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened. Her hand slowly reached for her pistol, thumb brushing the safety. “Didn’t sound like nothin’…”

But the noise was gone now. Just silence again. Heavy and waiting.

Ellie exhaled slowly, shoulders staying high. “Alright. Let’s keep moving,” she said, nodding forward.

They reached the end of the hallway, Ellie pushing open the double doors carefully. The hinges let out a soft metallic groan, but nothing stirred on the other side. Beyond the threshold, the massive storage room of the warehouse opened up—rows of rusted metal shelves reaching high toward the ceiling, some toppled over and others still intact, like sleeping giants leaning into each other.

Moonlight spilled through the shattered skylights above in pale streaks, cutting across the dust-filled air like blades. Their flashlights added to it—harsh beams slicing through the dark.

Ellie’s boots made barely a sound on the concrete as she stepped forward.

Then movement—quick, low, darting.

A humanoid shape zipped between the shelves ahead in a blur of mottled flesh and ragged movement.

“Shit,” Ellie hissed, yanking Dina behind one of the lower shelves. She crouched beside her, rifle out, breath held. “Saw something. Fast. Real low to the ground.”

Dina’s hand found her pistol instinctively. “A runner?”

Ellie shook her head, grim. “Stalker.”

Dina’s lips thinned in a grimace. “I hate those fuckers.”

“Yeah,” Ellie muttered, peering through the slats of the metal shelf. 

Dina let out a deep, quiet breath, her knuckles pale around her pistol. “You only saw one?”

Ellie nodded, keeping her eyes trained through the slats in the metal shelf. “Yep.”

“Okay…” Dina exhaled, trying to stay calm. “You take point. I’ll cover your flank. Make sure they don’t sneak up behind us.”

Ellie gave a tight nod. They both inched forward—but another sound stopped them cold. A low, wet groan, followed by the shuffle of twitching limbs. They both lifted their heads slowly, just enough to see over the edge of the shelf.

Two more stalkers.

Crouched in the darkness, just beyond the moonlight, jerking in those fast, unnatural movements—watching them.

Ellie’s throat tightened. “Shit.”

Dina’s voice dropped, steady but tense. “New plan. We back out. Quiet. Same way we came.”

Ellie nodded once and started to shift—only for Dina to hiss suddenly, her hand reaching out to stop her. Ellie froze, eyes darting to her girlfriend.

“They’re behind us,” Dina whispered, voice cracking slightly with panic. “Four more. I—I don’t know where they came from…”

Ellie dared a glance over her shoulder. Her stomach dropped.

She counted them immediately. Four stalkers blocking the way back, their bodies tense and hunched, heads cocked at unnatural angles. They twitched like puppets ready to spring.

They were surrounded.

A cold rush of instinct flooded Ellie. Her breath grew shallow, adrenaline screaming through her veins as she looked to Dina. Her girlfriend’s eyes were wide, the terror behind them barely contained.

Ellie didn’t care about herself. Just Dina. Just the life she carried.

Her mind raced—then it caught.

In the far corner of the warehouse, half-shrouded in shadow, was a small office. Its door was cracked open, a dusty glass window overlooking the floor. It was small, defensible.

Safe.

Ellie pointed quickly. “There. We’re going for that office. On my mark, run.”

Dina followed Ellie’s finger, eyes locking on the room. She nodded sharply.

“Okay,” Ellie whispered, standing slowly. “Stay close. Don’t stop.”

Dina gave a tense, “Got it.”

Then one of the stalkers let out a high, choked scream—and lunged.

“Run!” Ellie shouted, lifting her rifle and squeezing the trigger. The shot cracked, echoing through the warehouse.

Dina bolted, sprinting toward the office. Ellie laid down fire, taking out the first stalker mid-rush, then the second. But more were coming—too many, too fast.

Dina made it into the office. “Ellie, come on!”

Ellie was already on the move, but as she reached the door, she made a choice.

She grabbed the handle, shoved Dina fully inside, and slammed the door shut.

“Ellie!” Dina cried out, immediately turning and yanking at the knob. “What are you doing?!”

Ellie didn’t answer. She grabbed a rusted metal cart nearby, wedging it in front of the door with a grunt, jamming it into the frame.

Inside the room, Dina pounded on the glass, voice cracking. “Ellie! Stop! What the fuck are you doing?!”

Ellie met her eyes through the grimy window, forcing a smile—heartbreaking and resolute. “Not risking you.”

“No—Ellie, stop it! Open the door!” Dina’s voice cracked as her fists slammed against the dusty glass. Her eyes were wild with fear, her breath fogging the pane as she pounded against it, frantic. “Ellie, don’t you fucking do this!”

Ellie looked back one last time, her heart splintering at the sight of Dina’s tear-streaked face behind the glass. She reached up, palm pressing gently against the window, lining it up with Dina’s.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick. “Both of you.”

Dina’s mouth opened, but whatever she was going to say was lost behind a broken sob.

Ellie turned.

She shouldered her rifle, jaw clenched tight. The shadows moved around her—stalkers twitching in the dim moonlight, crouched and low, ready to pounce. Her boots scraped against the concrete as she stepped forward.

“Come at me, fuckers!” she screamed, lifting the rifle and firing a shot into the nearest one. The echo cracked through the warehouse like a thunderclap.

The stalker dropped with a screech—but the rest surged forward in a horrible, disjointed mass. Their limbs jerked, heads twitching with that inhuman speed. They shrieked as they charged.

Ellie took off running, weaving between old crates and busted shelving. The stalkers followed, howling in rage.

Behind her, through the din, she could still hear Dina’s fists against the glass.

Ellie didn’t slow. Couldn’t.

Every step she took was for her. For them.

She just had to lead the infected far enough away—buy enough time—so Dina could escape when it was safe. That was all that mattered.

Ellie grunted as she swung a metal pipe she found, the crack of bone under steel echoing through the warehouse as she caved in a stalker’s skull. Another lunged from the shadows—she twisted, brought the pipe around in a wild arc, and caught it across the jaw with a sickening crunch.

It didn’t stop.

They just kept coming. Like they were spawning from the damn walls—snarling, twitching, shrieking. Ellie roared as she swung again, but her arms were burning, her vision tunneling. She yanked her handgun from her belt, squeezing off a shot that took another one clean between the eyes. It collapsed at her feet.

She didn’t stop. Couldn’t. If this was where she died, so be it—as long as Dina and the baby lived.

In the office, Dina screamed Ellie’s name, her fists hammering desperately against the window, tears streaming down her cheeks as she slammed her elbow into the glass again and again. But it wouldn’t budge.

Outside, Ellie was on the move again, knife drawn, plunging it deep into another infected’s temple. It shrieked as it died, and Ellie didn’t even let go—she used its falling body for cover as another tackled her, its weight crashing her to the floor. Its rotten breath filled her nose, teeth gnashing inches from her throat.

She struggled, arms pinned, eyes wide with panic. She shoved up with all her strength—but it wasn’t enough.

Then—

BOOM.

A deafening shotgun blast ripped the stalker off her, its side exploding in gore.

“Get up!” a voice barked.

Ellie’s chest heaved as she blinked up—dirt, blood, and disbelief smudging her face.

Jesse. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes scanning for movement, shotgun braced in his hands.

He offered her one bloodied hand.

Ellie didn’t hesitate. She grabbed it.

He yanked her up, and before she could say a word, he blasted another stalker that was charging from the side. It dropped mid-sprint, twitching as it skidded across the ground.

“Move!” Jesse yelled, already turning toward the office. “Dina’s in there?!”

“Yeah,” Ellie panted, stumbling to keep up. “She’s—fuck, Jesse, how the hell are you here?!”

“No time!” he snapped, reloading as they moved.

They moved in tandem, backs nearly brushing. Jesse fired off round after round, the boom of his shotgun deafening in the echo-chamber of the warehouse. Ellie flanked him, her pistol barking in rapid succession as they swept through the last of the stalkers. Blood and ichor sprayed across the cracked concrete, bodies collapsing in twitching heaps.

And then—silence.

No snarls. No feet scuffling across rusted floors. Just the twin rhythms of their panting breaths, fogging in the cool warehouse air.

Ellie’s arms trembled as she lowered her gun, her eyes scanning the carnage. “Jesus Christ.”

Jesse dropped his shoulders, resting his hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his brow. “Well,” he huffed, “that sucked.”

Ellie shot him a sharp glance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Jesse looked up at her with that crooked, boyish grin that somehow survived the apocalypse. “What? Can’t a guy swing by?”

Ellie snorted despite herself, just about to retort when—

“Ellie!”

The scream made her flinch. She turned toward the office just in time to see Dina pounding on the window, her face contorted in rage and panic. The glass vibrated with every slam of her palms.

“Shit,” Ellie muttered, rushing over.

She shoved the cart aside and struggled with the door latch before finally yanking it open.

Dina barreled out like a storm.

“You asshole!” she shouted, shoving Ellie hard in the chest.

Ellie stumbled back. “Whoa—wait—Dina—”

Another smack. Then another. Her fists landed against Ellie’s arms and shoulders, not meant to hurt, but to make a point. Ellie winced, trying to shield herself.

“You locked me in!” Dina yelled, her voice cracking with leftover fear. “You locked me in and tried to sacrifice yourself, you reckless, stubborn jackass!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Ellie barked back, hands raised, her own anger bubbling under the guilt.

“I don’t need protecting!” Dina snapped, eyes brimming with tears now as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath. “We are supposed to do this together.”

Jesse wisely backed off, pretending to check the bodies nearby—definitely not watching.

Ellie looked at her, really looked, and her voice softened. “I thought I was gonna die. And I couldn’t let you. I couldn’t—Dina, I couldn’t lose you.”

Dina’s glare wavered just slightly.

“Next time,” she muttered, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket, “you do something that stupid again and I will shoot you myself.”

Ellie gave a breathless laugh. “Noted.”

“Good,” Dina muttered, grabbing Ellie’s collar and pulling her into a rough hug. “Idiot.”

Ellie held on just as tightly, her heart still hammering as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

A loud, purposeful throat-clear broke the moment.

Jesse stood a few feet away, shotgun resting across his shoulder, eyes scanning the darkness beyond them. “Not to interrupt your emotionally reckless reunion,” he said, “but we just rang the dinner bell with all that gunfire. If the infected didn’t hear it, the assholes with guns definitely did.”

Ellie and Dina both pulled apart, nodding quickly.

“Right,” Ellie said. “We gotta move.”

Jesse jerked his head toward the far end of the warehouse. “Exit’s this way. Come on.”

They followed him at a fast clip, boots slapping the blood-slick floor, breath still ragged from the fight. Jesse shoved open the rusted exit door and the trio spilled out into the night.

For a second, there was only the sound of wind in the trees—and then the blinding beam of a spotlight swept across them.

“Down!” Ellie hissed, shielding her eyes.

Too late.

The crunch of tires over gravel, the low growl of engines, and the slam of boots on pavement surrounded them. Three armored trucks rumbled into view, their mounted lights turning the dark woods into a sterile blue wash of artificial day.

“Goddamn it,” Jesse groaned, already turning on his heel. “Run!”

Bullets cracked through the trees as they bolted.

Dina stumbled slightly but kept pace, Ellie right behind her. They tore through the clearing, Jesse leading them toward a cluster of overgrown hedges and rusted fencing—a forgotten park, wild and dense with moss, vines swallowing the old playground equipment.

Behind them, the shouts of soldiers echoed, accompanied by more gunfire. Ellie ducked as a shot clipped the bark of a nearby tree.

Jesse veered sharply, crashing through a break in the fence. “This way!” he barked, not slowing.

They followed without question, branches clawing at their jackets as they plunged deeper into the brush. The gunfire dimmed. The shouting grew distant.

Then, silence.

They came to a slow stop beneath the twisted boughs of a massive oak, breath heaving, the forest thick with damp earth and shadow. Ellie turned back, scanning through the trees.

“…Why did they stop?” she asked, voice low, eyes narrowing. “They had us.”

Jesse, crouched nearby, frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know. They were right on our ass…”

He trailed off, face drawn tight in confusion.

Dina looked back too, squinting into the woods. “They could’ve followed us in.”

“They should’ve,” Ellie muttered.

The only sound was the wind rustling the leaves, soft and eerie. No boots. No voices. No trucks.

Just the woods. Watching.

“…That’s not a good sign,” Jesse said grimly, rising to his feet. “If they’re not chasing us…”

Ellie’s grip on her rifle tightened. “Then what is.”

A heavy silence settled between them, thick with something unspoken. The trees creaked softly above, and the distant cry of a crow echoed—sharp, sudden, and far too ominous.

They moved in instinctive sync—Jesse raising a closed fist, signaling them to halt, then tapping two fingers to his lips before motioning forward. Ellie and Dina followed close behind, crouched low, their steps quiet over the damp forest floor.

They slipped through the brush until Jesse dropped suddenly behind a fallen log, holding out an arm to stop them. Ellie and Dina crouched beside him, peering over the edge.

Ahead, in a clearing surrounded by gnarled trees, torchlight flickered like fireflies. Dozens of them. Figures in robes, dark and hooded, their faces obscured by shadow or the haunting streaks of ritual scars. They stood in a loose circle, murmuring low and rhythmic—chanting.

At the center of the ring stood a man bound with a noose, trembling atop an overturned crate. His WLF uniform was bloodied and torn. A soldier… no, a prisoner.

“What the fuck,” Ellie whispered, breath shallow.

The man strained against the rope around his neck, eyes wide with panic. “No! Please! Don’t do this!”

Ellie’s lips tightened into a grim line. “Damn it…”

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” the soldier begged, his voice cracking as he twisted helplessly. “Isaac’s planning something—I’ll tell you! Just… just let me—listen—!”

The chanting stopped.

A tall figure stepped forward from the group—barefoot, robed in heavy cloth stained with ash. His face was marred by deep, deliberate scars that ran from his chin to his brow like claw marks from some long-dead beast.

“They are nested with sin.”

The prisoner sobbed. “I didn’t want this!”

Without hesitation, the Seraphite reached into the folds of his robe and drew a jagged, ceremonial blade. He gripped the soldier’s hair, tilted his head back—and plunged the knife deep into his gut.

The soldier let out a strangled scream as the blade twisted. His knees buckled, blood spilling in thick waves down his front. The box was kicked out from under him with a cruel shove.

The rope snapped taut.

His body writhed, feet twitching above the earth as the torchlight danced eerily on the blood-slick grass.

Dina buried her face against Ellie’s shoulder, her hand trembling as it clutched at her shirt.

Jesse, still staring, whispered, “What the actual fuck…”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. Her stomach turned, but she didn’t look away. Not yet.

The robed figures began their chant again, low and bone-deep, as the man’s body swung gently in the wind.

Ellie looked from the scene to Jesse and Dina. Her voice was a whisper, but edged with steel. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

But just as they began to move—
A sharp, high-pitched whistle pierced through the clearing like a blade of sound. Every torch-bearing figure froze.

The elder’s hand raised slowly in a silent command, eyes sweeping the tree line.

Thwip.

The sound was quick, vicious—followed by a sickening thud.

Dina gasped. Her body staggered, one leg giving out beneath her. An arrow protruded from her thigh, buried deep in the muscle just above the knee.

“Shit!” Ellie dropped to her knees beside her. “Dina—fuck, fuck, okay—breathe, I’ve got you.”

Dina stared in disbelief, her hand hovering above the shaft, blood already blooming fast through her jeans.

Jesse’s expression turned grim. “We’re made. Ellie—”

“I’ll draw them,” Ellie said, breathless, already turning. “You get her out of here. You hear me? Get her back.”

Jesse hesitated only a second before nodding, scooping Dina into his arms as she winced and clung to him.

“Ellie, no—!” Dina reached for her, panic bleeding into her voice.

Ellie turned and gave her the briefest smile. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Then she stood—hands raised high above her head, voice slicing through the torchlight like a dare.

“Hey! Come get me, you ugly fucks!”

The Seraphite elder snarled. “Trespasser! Take her alive!”

Shadows erupted into motion. Half a dozen figures broke from the tree line, weapons drawn—bows, machetes, jagged knives glinting in the firelight.

Ellie took off into a full sprint, heart pounding against her ribs, her boots tearing across the forest floor. Behind her, the low thrum of chasing footsteps and wild, bone-deep howls echoed through the trees.

She didn’t look back.

All that mattered now was giving Jesse enough time to get Dina and himself out alive.

---

Thunder rolled like a growl across the sky, shaking the cracked windows of the old theater as Jesse slammed through the front doors, soaked to the bone, Dina cradled in his arms.

“Hold on, hold on,” he muttered, nearly slipping on the slick floor as he hurried across the darkened lobby.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the dust hanging in the air, as he laid her down gently on the worn couch, the old cushions sagging under her weight.

Dina’s breath hitched the moment her leg moved. The arrow was still lodged deep in her thigh, the blood soaking her jeans in a thick, dark stain.
“Ahh—fuck!” she cried out, her back arching as Jesse touched the shaft. “Don’t—don’t touch it!”

“I know, I know—shit, sorry,” Jesse said quickly, yanking off his soaked jacket and tossing it aside. He crouched beside her, digging through his pack with trembling hands. “I need to see how bad it is.”

Dina clenched her jaw, fingers gripping the edge of the couch, her knuckles white. Her skin was pale, clammy. “We have to go back,” she said through her teeth.

“Dina—”

“We can’t leave her out there,” she snapped, voice thick with pain and fear. “She’s alone.”

“She’ll be fine,” Jesse said, though even he didn’t sound sure. He finally found a rag, a bottle of alcohol, and his hunting knife. “Ellie’s smart. Fast. She can take care of herself.”

Dina shook her head, jaw clenched, her face pale with pain and worry. Her hand dropped instinctively to her stomach, cradling it like a fragile secret. “I need her,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You don’t understand, Jesse—I need Ellie.”

He paused, just for a second, knife still in hand. His eyes met hers—wild, brimming with something deeper than fear. “I know,” he said softly. “I do.”

“No,” Dina snapped, her voice sharper this time. “You don’t. I need her.”

Jesse’s expression tightened. He unscrewed the bottle of alcohol and soaked a rag with it, then held it out to her. “Drink this. It’ll help take the edge off.”

Dina turned her head away. “No.”

“Dina, seriously—”

“I said no,” she bit out, shoving his hand away. Her grip on her thigh trembled, but her tone was firm, unshakable. Jesse blinked at her, frowning slightly, confusion flickering behind his eyes.

Still, he didn’t argue. He exhaled through his nose and set the rag aside, pulling his knife. “Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s just get this done.”

He moved in carefully, slicing through the denim around the embedded arrow. The blood was worse now, pooling and hot. Jesse swallowed hard, inspecting the wound.

“I’ve gotta push it through, not pull it out,” he said, glancing up at her. “If I drag it back, I could tear something worse—hit an artery or a tendon. You good with that?”

Dina gave a breathless, pained laugh. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” Jesse replied honestly, his voice low but gentle.

She let out a trembling breath, trying to steel herself. But when Jesse reached out and gently touched the arrow again to test the angle, a cry tore from Dina’s throat. Her hand slammed against the armrest, back arching. Jesse flinched at the sound, his face twisting with guilt.

“Shit—sorry. I know. I know. I just—I have to get this out before it gets worse,” he said, urgency mounting in his voice.

Before he could touch it again, the front doors of the theater burst open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Both of them froze.

Jesse immediately raised his pistol, but then his shoulders dropped with visible relief. “Oh, thank fuck…”

Ellie stood in the doorway, panting, soaked from head to toe, a smear of dried blood across her temple and grime on her arms. Her eyes locked on the couch—and Dina.

“Dina,” she breathed.

Dina’s head snapped up at the sound of Ellie’s voice, and she let out a sob of relief, reaching for her like she might vanish again if she didn’t grab fast enough. Ellie rushed across the room, dropping beside her, cupping Dina’s face in both hands.

“I’m here,” Ellie murmured, her voice breaking. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Dina’s fingers curled into Ellie’s jacket, holding tight. “I thought—I thought you were—”

“I’m fine,” Ellie cut in, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jesse cleared his throat from where he knelt near Dina’s leg. “Not to interrupt the reunion, but I need you, El. I can’t do this alone. She’s hurting bad.”

Ellie nodded quickly, brushing more hair from Dina’s damp forehead. She looked Dina in the eye. “Okay. I need to hold you down now, alright? It’s gonna hurt—but I’ve got you. I promise.”

Dina whimpered, her face scrunching in pain and fear, but she nodded faintly. “Just don’t let go,” she whispered.

“Never,” Ellie whispered back, wrapping one arm firmly around Dina’s shoulders and holding her other hand tight. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.”

Jesse braced the arrow again, jaw tight.

“Okay,” he murmured. “On three.”

One—”

He pushed.

Dina screamed.

Her body arched with the searing pain as the arrow burst clean through the other side of her thigh, slick with blood. Ellie held her tight, arms wrapped around her as Dina writhed, tears streaking her cheeks, her nails digging into Ellie’s shoulder. But Ellie didn’t flinch—just kept whispering through gritted teeth.

“You’re doing so good, baby… you’re doing so fucking good…”

Jesse moved fast, tossing the bloody arrow aside with a clatter as he reached into his bag and yanked out a clean strip of cloth. He wrapped it tight around Dina’s leg just below the wound, tying it off as a makeshift bandage.

Dina’s breathing was ragged, shallow—and then her body slumped in Ellie’s arms. Her head fell to Ellie’s shoulder, unconscious.

Ellie’s heart skipped in panic until she leaned forward, brushing the hair from Dina’s sweat-damp forehead, watching her chest rise and fall with steady breaths.

“She passed out,” Ellie said softly, her voice tight but relieved. “She’s still breathing.”

Jesse let out a breath and leaned back on his heels, wiping blood off his hands. “Jesus…”

He stared at the blood-stained arrow on the floor, then at Ellie.

“How the hell did you get away from them?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Those freaks were everywhere.”

Ellie didn’t look at him. She was too focused on Dina—her hand never left her face. She gently adjusted Dina’s limp form, easing her back onto the couch, lifting her legs slightly to rest on the cushions, then covering her with the blanket Jesse had tossed aside earlier.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she muttered, voice distant and low.

Jesse looked like he wanted to press further but thought better of it. He gave a short nod and turned away, sitting heavily on the armrest.

Ellie leaned down, pressing a kiss to Dina’s temple, brushing her thumb along her cheek.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Ellie stayed at Dina’s side for what felt like hours, barely blinking, her hand moving in slow, steady strokes across Dina’s cheek. She watched the way the tension had drained from her face, her lashes still wet from pain, her lips parted slightly as she slept. Outside, thunder still rolled low in the distance, a constant reminder of the storm beyond these walls.

Eventually, Ellie exhaled and stood, her knees stiff. She bent to check the makeshift bandage on Dina’s leg—blood had seeped through a little, but the bleeding had stopped. Satisfied for now, she carefully pulled the blanket higher over Dina’s waist and silently stepped away.

She found Jesse on the upper balcony, leaning against the railing with his elbows propped and hands loosely folded, eyes distant and lost in the dark beyond the broken theater windows. Rain streaked the glass, the fading thunder casting a quiet tension over the space.

Ellie walked up beside him and crossed her arms.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked softly, but not unkindly.

Jesse gave her a sideways glance, then turned back to the storm. “Damn. That’s the thanks I get for saving your ass?”

Ellie smirked faintly. “Just wondering how the hell you found us.”

He shrugged. “Followed the mess. Figured if anyone was leaving a trail of pissed-off WLFs and crazy cultists in their wake, it’d be you two.” He paused, then added, “Also… I was kinda offended you didn’t ask me to come along in the first place.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, leaning her shoulder into the railing. “I didn’t even want Dina to come.”

That made Jesse laugh—short and tired. “Well… that tracks.”

They both looked down over the edge of the balcony where Dina lay still on the couch below, curled under a thin blanket, her breaths deep and steady now. The storm outside was starting to quiet.

Jesse’s smile faded as he watched her. His voice softened. “She’s tough.”

Ellie’s eyes stayed on Dina, her voice barely a whisper. “She’s pregnant.”

Jesse’s head snapped toward her, eyes wide. “Wait—what?”

Ellie nodded slowly, still not looking at him. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence hung heavy between them before Jesse ran a hand through his damp hair, the shock written all over his face. “Jesus, El…”

“I know.”

Jesse let out a long breath, one hand bracing the back of his neck. “I always figured I’d be the fun uncle, you know?” He gave Ellie a sideways glance, a tired smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Slip the kid candy behind your back, teach them all the swear words.”

Ellie huffed out a laugh—dry, disbelieving—but genuine. She shook her head, looking over at him with something between gratitude and exhaustion in her eyes. “Jesus, Jesse…”

He shrugged. “I mean it. I’m already planning birthday presents.”

Ellie leaned her arms onto the railing, her gaze dropping again to where Dina lay resting below. The smile faded from her face, replaced with a harder line. She drew in a slow breath, the weight of what she was about to say already sitting heavy in her gut.

“I need you to do me a favor,” she said quietly.

Jesse straightened a little, eyes narrowing. “Yeah. Anything.”

“I need you to take Dina back to Jackson.”

The words hung between them for a second. Jesse blinked, caught off guard, and then scoffed with a dry laugh. “You serious? Ellie, come on. She’s not leaving without you. You know that.”

“She won’t have a choice,” Ellie said, jaw tight.

Jesse shook his head, his voice rising slightly. “She’ll fight it. She’d fight tooth and nail to stay here, even now. Even like this.”

Ellie rubbed a hand down her face, fingers pressing into her eyes. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I know.”

She leaned harder into the railing, the tension making her shoulders curl inward. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again. “But if something happens to her… or the kid… because I dragged her through all this shit—I won’t survive that, Jesse.”

He didn’t respond right away. He just looked at her, really looked, seeing how exhausted she was, how frayed her edges had become. Ellie wasn’t asking because she wanted out—she was asking because she was already giving everything she had just to hold it together.

Finally, Jesse let out a long breath. “We’ll figure it out.”

Ellie exhaled slowly, her fingers tapping a rhythmless beat on the railing. “Tomorrow,” she said, eyes still locked on Dina’s sleeping form below. “I head out. I find Tommy. Then we leave.”

Jesse turned to look at her, one brow arched. “What about the crew that came to Jackson? The ones that started all this?”

Ellie didn’t answer right away.

Her jaw clenched. Her mind pulled her somewhere else—back to that room in the hospital. To Joel lying there. Blood-soaked. Beaten to hell. Barely breathing. The sound of the monitors beeping, too slow, too uneven. Her stomach twisted at the memory. She blinked hard, grounding herself again, forcing her gaze back to Dina. To the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. The promise in her body of something new. Something more than revenge.

“She and the kid,” Ellie said finally, voice quieter. “They’re my priority now.”

Jesse studied her face, his expression unreadable. “So that’s it? You’re really okay just… walking away?”

Ellie scoffed lightly under her breath, but there was no humor in it. “If Dina’s safe, then yeah. I don’t care.”

He leaned forward, arms crossed on the railing. “You’re not even worried they’ll come back? Try again?”

Ellie’s eyes darkened. “If they do, I’ll put a bullet in their head. Plain and simple.”

Jesse’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You find out why they did it?”

Ellie looked away, jaw tensing. “Doesn’t matter anymore,” she said after a beat. “What’s done is done. Joel’s made enemies. Pissed off a lot of people. People who don’t forget.”

Jesse was quiet at that, nodding slowly as if the pieces were falling into place. The silence between them was thick, the kind born from shared grief and years of watching the world rot from the inside out.

Ellie’s voice cut through it softly, almost lost to the thunder that rolled outside. “I’m just tired, Jess.”

He nodded again. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

The thunder cracked again, a long, rolling growl that rattled the windows and echoed through the empty rafters of the theater.

Jesse shifted beside her, his hands tucked deep in his jacket pockets. He let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

Ellie turned her head toward him, brows knit. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “Better chance we find Tommy together. Watch each other’s backs.”

He reached out and clasped a firm hand on her shoulder—steady, grounding. The kind of silent promise they didn’t need to spell out anymore.

Ellie stared at him for a second, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. She gave a small nod. “Thanks, man.”

Jesse gave her shoulder a brief squeeze, then leaned forward against the railing again. Below them, the dim flicker of a lantern painted the room in soft gold. Dina still lay curled on the couch, her chest rising and falling steadily. Safe. For now.

Ellie’s eyes found her again. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. The weight of everything—of what came next, of what they had already lost—sat heavy in her chest. But there, in that quiet moment between thunderclaps and uncertain plans, she let herself breathe. Just for a second.

Chapter 16: SEATTLE DAY 3

Rain tapped gently against the windows, a steady rhythm that filled the quiet theater as the early morning light crept slowly across the floor. The sky outside was a dull gray, still heavy with storm clouds, but the worst of it had passed.

Ellie sat alone near the front row, Joel’s revolver resting in her hands. She turned it slowly, her fingers tracing the worn metal like it was some kind of relic. The weight of it felt heavier than usual—like it carried more than just bullets.

She stared at it, jaw clenched, her thumb grazing the etched grip. She wondered if he was awake right now. If he was even still breathing. Or if, somewhere in that sterile, too-quiet room in Jackson, his body had given up without her even knowing.

God, she needed him to wake up.

There were things she had to tell him—things she didn’t know how to say to anyone else. About the baby. About how fucking terrified she was of being a parent. About how every second she wasn’t checking Dina’s pulse or watching her breathe, she felt like the world was collapsing under her feet.

He’d understand. He had to. He was just a kid himself when he had Sarah—barely older than Ellie is now. He’d told her that once, in a moment that felt like it came from another life. And she’d laughed it off back then. But now?

Now it felt different. Heavy. Real.

She exhaled through her nose, eyes burning, thumb still slowly moving across the revolver’s frame.

“No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.”

The words echoed in her mind, in Joel’s rough, familiar voice—low and certain, like he was right there beside her. Back then, when he first said it, Ellie hadn’t fully understood what he meant. She thought she did, thought it was just about survival. About getting from one day to the next. But now…

Now she understood completely.

She could see it so clearly—why Joel had done what he did with the Fireflies. Why he chose her over a cure. Back then, she couldn’t make sense of the blood he spilled, of the weight he carried to keep her breathing. But now, sitting in the dim silence with her fingers still curled around his old revolver, she finally got it.

It wasn’t just about protecting her. It was about love. About fear. About knowing you’d burn the whole goddamn world down just to make sure the person you loved made it to the next sunrise.

People had always just assumed Joel was her father. No one ever asked. And Joel never corrected them. He wore that role like a second skin—never needing to say it out loud. He just was.

And now, with the thought of the life growing inside Dina, Ellie knew—without a shred of doubt—that she would do the exact same thing. If it came down to it, she’d tear apart anyone, anything, just to keep that kid safe. To keep Dina safe. Just like he did.

Because now she understood.

With a slow breath, Ellie stood. The creak of the wooden floor beneath her boots echoed softly in the quiet morning. She slid Joel’s revolver into the back of her jeans, the familiar weight grounding her, even if only a little. The rain had softened into a steady drizzle outside, and pale sunlight filtered weakly through the dusty windows as she stepped out into the theater’s main hall.

Jesse was near the entrance, crouched low as he double-checked his pack—rifle parts, ammo, rations. His face was tense, focused. But Ellie’s attention was already locked elsewhere.

Dina.

She was awake now, sitting upright where she’d been resting. A blanket was still wrapped loosely around her shoulders, her hair mussed and damp from the night before. She looked up as Ellie approached, and something in her expression—relief, weariness, love—made Ellie’s chest ache.

“Hey,” Ellie murmured, quickening her pace. She dropped to her knees beside the couch, hands already moving with purpose as she peeled the edge of the blanket back to inspect the bandages on Dina’s leg.

Dina let out a shaky breath and gave a soft smile, her fingers brushing against Ellie’s cheek. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “Just a little sore.”

Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the pain she was trying to downplay. The smile faltered as she winced and instinctively pressed a hand to her thigh, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

Ellie gently caught her hand, steadying it. “You don’t have to pretend for me,” she said quietly, brushing her thumb over Dina’s knuckles. “You don’t gotta be strong all the time.”

Dina looked at her then—really looked—and Ellie could see how tired she was behind those dark eyes. But also how stubbornly alive she still burned.

“I know,” Dina breathed, and leaned forward just enough for Ellie to catch her weight.

Ellie wrapped an arm around her gently, grounding her with the same quiet fierceness she always did. Her other hand drifted down, hesitating for a moment before settling over Dina’s stomach. Her palm rested there, the fabric of Dina’s shirt thin and warm beneath her fingers.

Dina watched her, eyes soft. “They’re okay too,” she said with a faint, tender smile.

Ellie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her thumb moved in small, slow circles across Dina’s stomach—still flat, still silent, but carrying everything that mattered to her in the world. She looked up, her eyes darker now with something heavy and quiet.

“I’m heading out. Jesse and I—we’re going after Tommy.” Her voice was even, but there was a tremor in the space between the words. “Lock the door behind me, yeah?”

Dina’s eyes flicked down to her bandaged leg. She didn’t argue—couldn’t. The frustration sat heavy on her features, her jaw working with the words she didn’t say. But eventually, she just nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Ellie leaned in, brushing their foreheads together briefly before pressing a kiss to her lips—gentle, grounding, lingering.

But when she started to pull back, Dina caught her hand. “Wait—hold on.”

Ellie paused, brow furrowed, as she watched Dina reach toward her own wrist. She untied the worn leather bracelet she always wore—faded and fraying in places, but still whole. At its center, the evil eye bead shimmered faintly, the blue striking against the warm tones of the leather.

Dina took Ellie’s hand, slipping it carefully around her wrist and fastening the clasp with practiced fingers. The charm sat bright against Ellie’s pale skin.

“It’s for good luck,” Dina said, voice soft but certain.

Ellie scoffed gently, her eyes flicking down to the bracelet. “You know I don’t believe in luck.”

“Yeah,” Dina said, fingers brushing Ellie’s knuckles. “Good thing I do, then.”

Before Ellie could respond, Dina leaned forward and kissed her again—this time firmer, more insistent. A promise. A plea.

“Come back to me,” Dina murmured against her lips, her voice quiet but unyielding. “Or else.”

Ellie gave a small smile, something bitter and full in her chest. She pressed their foreheads together once more, then whispered back, “Always.”

From across the room, Jesse’s voice broke the silence, calling out as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “You ready, Williams?”

Ellie lingered a second longer, brushing her thumb one last time over the curve of Dina’s cheek. Then she leaned down and pressed a final kiss to her lips—soft, reverent, reluctant.

“Yeah,” she murmured as she straightened, grabbing her backpack and shrugging it on.

Dina watched her, something unspoken clinging to her gaze. Just as Ellie turned, she called out, voice laced with affection and quiet anxiety, “Hey, Jesse—watch her ass, alright?”

Jesse huffed a short laugh, already tightening the straps on his pack. “Always.”

Ellie rolled her eyes faintly but didn’t hide the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she glanced over her shoulder one last time.

Dina gave her a small wave, still seated on the couch, hand resting protectively over her stomach. She didn’t say anything more—but she didn’t need to. Her eyes said everything.

Ellie gave a nod, and then she and Jesse stepped through the heavy front door, the metal creaking as it closed behind them. Rain still drizzled softly from the grey sky, and the city—battered and waiting—stretched before them.

The search for Tommy had begun again.

---

The streets stretched out before them like a drowned graveyard—crooked buildings leaning into each other like drunks, vines snaking up rusted lamp posts and spilling over shattered car windows. The rain had started again, soft at first, then steady—each drop slapping against Ellie’s jacket like a quiet insult.

“Jesus,” she muttered, tugging her hood higher as she stepped over a broken curb. “How the hell did anyone stay dry in this place?”

Behind her, Jesse let out a low laugh, boots crunching through puddles. “They didn’t. That’s why everyone here’s probably mold by now.”

Ellie snorted, not bothering to look back.

They walked in silence for a bit, the patter of rain and the distant creaks of the dying city their only companions. Then Jesse broke it.

“I’ve been thinking of names,” he said casually.

Ellie side-eyed him. “For what? Your next pet?”

“For the baby,” Jesse replied with a grin, unbothered by her sarcasm. “I was thinking Jesse Jr. rolls off the tongue pretty nice.”

Ellie barked out a laugh. “You serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“You want me to name my kid after you?”

“How bout a middle name. C’mon. After everything I’ve done? Saving your ass, hauling Dina to safety, giving up my beauty sleep to chase after Tommy…”

Ellie smirked, kicking a stray can off the road. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

A beat passed. Then Ellie slowed a little, glancing sideways at him.

“You’ve been surprisingly… cool about all this.”

Jesse blinked. “About what?”

“Me. Dina.” Her voice was quiet, but not unsure. “Most guys—most alphas, I guess—would’ve had a problem with it. Especially the way things happened.”

Jesse was quiet for a second, then sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, well… I’m not most guys.”

Ellie quirked a brow.

“I meant what I said—back then,” he went on, his voice steady but thoughtful. “When I told you I didn’t care. I wasn’t just trying to save face. It… it was a long time coming.”

Ellie slowed slightly, her boots scuffing against the wet pavement. “What do you mean?”

Jesse gave a dry laugh. “After me and Dina broke up—like, really broke up—she told me. About the feelings. For you.”

Ellie blinked, turning her head to stare at him, caught completely off guard. “Wait—what?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said with a nod, eyes on the road ahead. “Sat me down, all serious, said she needed to be honest. That it had been going on a while. Not anything physical, just… there. I told her she should go after what she wanted.”

Ellie frowned, her voice low. “You weren’t mad?”

“I was… surprised,” Jesse admitted, glancing at her. “But I wasn’t mad. I mean, hell—any idiot could see there was something between you two. I guess I just didn’t expect the ‘go for it’ part to happen with you two making out at the New Year’s party.”

Ellie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Okay, in my defense—Dina was drunk.”

Jesse let out a bark of laughter, the sound echoing off the cracked buildings around them. “Yeah, no shit. Only a drunk person would sloppy kiss in the middle of the dance floor.”

Ellie winced. “God.”

“I’m just glad you two are happy,” Jesse said, his tone softening. “That’s what matters. No hard feelings, seriously. You and me? We’re still best bros.”

Ellie glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, man. Really.”

Jesse nodded… then gave her a sideways smirk. “Still kinda fucked up, though. You made out with her like, what—two weeks after we broke up?”

Ellie groaned again, shoving his arm as she walked past him. “Jesus, let it go.”

He grinned, unfazed, jogging to catch up. “Tell you what—I’ll forgive you.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “That sounds ominous.”

“If you name the baby after me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, Jesse’s gender neutral. Could go either way!”

“Fuck off,” Ellie said, but she was laughing now, shaking her head as they walked.

Jesse beamed. “I’m just sayin’. Jesse Williams Jr. has a nice ring to it.”

Ellie muttered, “I will punt you into a flooded ditch.”

“Don’t be rude to your babies future uncle,” Jesse replied, unfazed.

Ellie snorted at that, the sound brief but real, mist curling from her lips in the cold air. “Jesus, you’re relentless.”

They trudged on through the rain-soaked street, their boots squelching through puddles and moss-slick concrete. The ruined city stretched around them, buildings leaning like old bones, vines choking what was left of once-bright storefronts. The drizzle pattered steady now, soaking through Jesse’s hoodie and dripping from the curls on Ellie’s forehead.

Then Jesse’s voice shifted—quieter, heavier.

“Do you think Tommy’s still alive?”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. Her fingers flexed around the strap of her rifle as she kept walking. “He has to be.”

“I saw what he did,” Jesse said. “Back at that hotel. Those guys tied to the chairs… the blood. It was like something out of a nightmare.”

Ellie didn’t answer at first, just turned her head slightly to show she was listening.

“I knew Tommy had a past,” Jesse continued. “He always hinted at it. But that? I didn’t think he had that in him.”

Ellie’s voice was steady when it finally came. “People are capable of a lot when they’re pushed hard enough.”

Jesse was quiet for a second. Then he looked at her, something uncertain flickering behind his usually calm eyes. “You really ready to walk away from all this? Just… go back to Jackson? Pretend it never happened?”

Ellie stopped walking. Rain slid down her face like sweat, catching at her lashes. She turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable for a long beat before she spoke.

“I have to,” she said quietly.

Jesse studied her for a moment, lips parted like he wanted to say something else. Then he did.

“Yeah… but will you?”

Ellie opened her mouth to respond—something biting on her tongue—but the distant sound of voices snapped both their heads toward the north end of the street.

Instinct kicked in. Ellie ducked low behind a rusted-out SUV, Jesse diving down beside her. She peered through a shattered window, heart hammering.

A small WLF patrol moved cautiously through the wreckage, rifles slung across their backs, rain dripping from their soaked hoods.

“They say when we ship out?”

“It’s going down today. All the units are being rounded up.”

“Who told you that?”

“Top man himself. We sweep this area clean, wait for the others… and then take the fight to the Scars.”

“Didn’t they say that last time?”

“It won’t be like last time.”

“Still. I’m nervous. If they’ve got the coast covered, where the hell do we go?”

“We hold. We wait. That’s the order.”

Ellie held her breath, her fingers tightening around the grip of her pistol. The soldiers were close—too close. She could hear the squelch of their boots in the mud, the quiet hum of their radios. Jesse crouched beside her, shoulders tense, hand already reaching toward his rifle.

Jesse and Ellie locked eyes—no words needed. Years of surviving together had taught them the language of glances, of sharp nods and steady hands. A plan passed silently between them.

Jesse shifted to the left, Ellie to the right, each moving with slow, practiced stealth. Rain muffled their steps as they crept around the wrecked car. The WLF soldiers were distracted—one lighting a cigarette, another muttering into a radio.

Ellie slipped behind the taller one, Jesse behind the second.

Three.

Two.

One.

They struck in unison.

Ellie’s arm locked around her target’s neck, knife driving quick and clean beneath the jaw as she yanked him backward. His body dropped with a thud, muffled by the wet grass. Jesse fired once—silencer purring—dropping the second soldier mid-turn.

The third barely had time to react before Jesse surged forward, knocking him off balance and finishing the job with a swift, brutal stab.

Then, quiet again. Just the rain, and their breathing.

They stood over the corpses for a moment, soaked and heaving, hearts pounding. Steam curled from the warm bodies in the cool air.

Jesse blew out a breath and muttered, “This place makes me thankful for Jackson.”

Ellie wiped her blade on one of the soldier’s sleeves, still catching her breath. “Yeah,” she agreed hoarsely, glancing at the red spreading into the mud. “Even on its worst days.”

Jesse nudged one of the dead with his boot. “They keep mentioning those Scars. You think it’s the same group that shot Dina?”

Ellie crouched beside the body, checking for maps or orders. “Yeah,” she said after a beat. “They’re at war or something—some religious cult. WLF’s been trying to push them out of the city.”

Jesse ran a hand through his damp hair. “And we just walked into the middle of it.”

Ellie let out a breath, pushing back from the corpse. “Could be worse,” she muttered, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “City could be filled with cannibals.”

Jesse scoffed as they began moving again. “You mean like those ones you ran into out east?”

Ellie made a face. “Bunch of dicks,” she said flatly. “Sick, creepy dicks.”

They fell into a tense silence as they moved through the streets, weaving between overturned cars and shattered store windows. Rain slicked every surface, the city gray and dripping like it was bleeding out from every crack.

Eventually, they came to a narrow alley partially caved in by a fallen fire escape. Jesse went first, ducking under the rusted metal and slipping into the shadow of an old building. Ellie followed, and as her boots hit the floor inside, her brow lifted.

The inside was half-collapsed, but intact enough to show what it once was. Colorful, dust-covered banners hung from the exposed beams above, their corners curled with time. Comic book covers—faded and water-stained—lined the cracked walls. A massive poster of Savage Starlight flapped weakly in the breeze from a broken window.

“Whoa,” Jesse muttered, turning slowly as he took it in.

Ellie’s gaze lingered on the Savage Starlight banner. “Ain’t that the one you like?” Jesse asked, pointing up.

Ellie nodded slowly, eyes wide. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It is.” Her voice had softened, almost reverent.

Jesse spun in a slow circle, mouth twisting into a half-smile. “Looks like some kinda… convention or something. Like, a big meetup spot for nerds like you.”

Ellie gave him a sideways look but didn’t argue. Her hands landed on her hips as she took it all in. “Man… we were born in the wrong time.”

Jesse chuckled, stepping over a decaying pile of cardboard cutouts. “You’d’ve fit right in—arguing about superheroes, running around in a cape.”

“I wouldn’t wear a cape,” Ellie grumbled, but there was a flicker of a smile.

He looked back at her. “You totally would.”

Ellie grinned now, shaking her head. “Only if it was black.”

They stood there a moment longer, surrounded by forgotten fandoms and rainlight filtering in through the broken windows, before Ellie gave a short nod toward the next doorway. “C’mon. Let’s find Tommy before this place caves in on us.”

They stepped back into the wet grayness, leaving behind the tattered remnants of a forgotten world. The city loomed ahead—its bones broken, spine crooked. Buildings leaned into each other like drunkards, windows shattered, metal frameworks jutting out like ribs. Rainwater pooled in the cracked concrete, spilling down from the open sky in rhythmic sheets. The wind howled through the alleys like something feral.

Ellie walked a few paces ahead, her boots crunching broken glass beneath the soft patter of rain. Jesse followed close behind, hood pulled up, shoulders hunched against the cold.

“Still kinda offended you didn’t ask me to come with,” Jesse muttered after a beat, kicking a rusted can out of his path.

Ellie groaned, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “You’re not gonna drop that, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ His grin was faint but real.

She shook her head with a sigh. “I just didn’t think you’d be cool with it.”

Jesse blinked at her. “Why the hell not?”

Ellie scoffed, gesturing at him loosely. “I don’t know… ‘cause you’re Mr. Jackson. You’re gonna be running that place someday with your stupid smile and your ‘We gotta rebuild the town’ speeches.”

Jesse let out a dry laugh but didn’t answer right away. They turned a corner, stepping around a collapsed awning half-covered in moss. The air smelled like wet rust and mold, thick with decay.

After a moment, Jesse’s voice came quieter, more grounded. “I look up to Joel, you know?” His brows furrowed as he spoke. “What happened to him… it’s messed up. Real messed up. And yeah, I care about Jackson. But if you’d asked me to come, Ellie?” He glanced over at her. “I wouldn’t have thought twice. No questions.”

Ellie’s pace slowed. She didn’t say anything right away, just stared ahead at the wet horizon, at the jagged silhouette of the next building slouched against the storm.

“…Thanks,” she said at last, voice barely audible under the rain.

Jesse nudged her shoulder lightly. “We’re family, dumbass. You don’t gotta do all this alone.”

Ellie let out a breath, heavy and soft through her nose, before muttering, “Thanks… again.”

Jesse gave her a crooked smile. “Don’t make it weird,” he said, bumping her arm again as they kept walking.

They moved cautiously down the block, the street slick with rain and broken asphalt. Ellie pulled the soaked map from her back pocket, squinting at it under the dim morning light. Her eyes traced the faded lines, then flicked up to the distance ahead—what was once a street now gaped wide open, the collapse having devoured the road and filled it with rushing water. The current churned between the broken edges of the sinkhole, dark and fast enough to sweep a car away.

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed, folding the map and stuffing it away.

Jesse stepped up beside her, scanning the divide. “There’s gotta be a way across. Some scaffolding, a plank, something—”

The sudden sound of voices made them both freeze. Ellie dropped into a crouch and Jesse followed, keeping low as they edged toward the lip of the hole and peeked down.

Across the water, on what remained of the other side of the road, two WLF guards were standing near a small motorboat. One of them—leaning over the engine—was swearing under his breath as he smacked it with the heel of his hand.

“Damn thing’s always finicky,” he grumbled, trying again to start it.

The second guard stood with his arms crossed. “You need help?”

“Nah. Just being a pain in the ass,” the first muttered.

Before either could say more, static crackled from the radios on their hips. Both guards immediately stiffened, their heads tilting as the message came through, distorted but urgent:

“Sniper spotted in 12. I repeat, sniper sighted at the marina. Likely a trespasser. Any nearby units report. Over.”

A new voice rang out from off to the side—a woman’s, sharp and commanding as she jogged into view from a side alley. She wore WLF gear and a hard-set expression.

“You,” she pointed to the second guard, “stay here and watch the boat. You,” she said to the first, “grab your gear and head toward the marina. I want eyes on that sniper now.”

They scrambled to obey. The one in the boat groaned. “We’re really just gonna sit here while people are getting picked off?”

The woman shot him a look. “We’ve got orders. This is our post—so sit tight, keep your radio on, and listen for updates.”

More WLF soldiers could be seen sprinting in the distance, some already peeling off toward the marina’s direction. Ellie’s eyes narrowed as she tracked them, heart hammering.

Beside her, Jesse crouched lower, pointing toward a jagged crack in the wall just beyond a collapsed storefront.

“We can cut through there,” he whispered. “It’ll take us closer to the marina.”

Ellie shook her head immediately. “No. We’re taking the boat.”

Jesse blinked. “Did you not hear them? That sniper—it’s gotta be Tommy.”

“We don’t know that,” Ellie snapped, eyes still on the guards across the water. “Even if it is him, he’ll be gone by the time we get there. This is the faster route. We stick to the plan—head for the library.”

Jesse stared at her, brows knitting as rain streaked down his face. “Ellie… what if he’s in trouble?”

“He’s not,” she said, voice firmer now, more final than convincing. “Tommy can take care of himself.”

Jesse let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.” He turned away, hands on his hips, trying to gather whatever patience he had left.

Ellie kept her gaze locked on the boat, watching the WLF guard now lazily pacing along the dock, his back turned every few seconds. She was already calculating the timing in her head.

“Tommy’s probably headed to the library anyway,” she added, quieter this time. “That’s where we’ll find him.”

Jesse turned back to her slowly, frowning. “Right. So what is it, then?” he asked, voice low and even. “You want to go to the library to find Tommy… or to find the people who hurt Joel?”

The words hit her like a stone to the gut.

Ellie didn’t answer right away. Rain slipped down her brow, her breath coming slow and shallow. Her fingers flexed at her sides, restless, aching for something to grip—gun, knife, anything.

Ellie didn’t answer him.

Her gaze drifted, unfocused, somewhere past Jesse, past the broken streets and flooded craters. For a moment, the storm around them faded into silence.

Flashes came, sharp and uninvited—Joel in that hospital bed, his face barely recognizable, swollen and bruised to the bone. Tubes in his nose. Blood crusted in his beard. Skin the wrong shade. His chest rising, falling—slow, too slow. The hiss of machines keeping him tethered.

She swallowed hard. Her throat felt like it was closing.

The rain pressed against them, steady and cold, soaking through her jacket. She blinked against it, breath hitching once before she forced it down. Her hand tightened on her backpack strap like it could anchor her in place.

“I…” she started, voice hoarse, but the words caught in her throat.

Jesse’s expression softened a little, but he didn’t speak.

Ellie turned back toward the dock, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “I’m taking the boat,” she said finally. The edge in her voice wasn’t just resolve—it was fear, grief, guilt.

Jesse just stared at her for a long, silent moment. The rain tapped steadily against his hood, running in streams down his face, but he didn’t blink. His eyes held something heavy—disappointment, maybe, or worry—but not surprise.

“I really hope you make it,” he said finally, his voice low and steady.

Then he turned without another word, his boots sloshing through the shallow water as he made his way toward the crack in the wall. Ellie watched him go, his silhouette slipping into shadow, swallowed by the ruin of the city. And then… he was gone.

She stood there, alone again.

The rain felt colder now, almost sharp against her skin. Her hands were shaking, the tremble starting in her fingertips and crawling up into her arms. She looked down at them—muddy, wet, blood on her knuckles she hadn’t even noticed.

Ellie closed her eyes. The sound of the marina ahead—voices, the hum of the broken motor, radios crackling—faded behind the rushing in her ears.

She breathed in, deep and shaky. Then again. She forced her fingers to flex, forced the shake out of her limbs, shoved the storm down into her ribs where she always kept it—buried, burning, contained.

Her eyes opened.

And she moved.

---

The Seattle Central Library, once a gleaming architectural marvel of glass and steel, now stood like a fractured monument to a forgotten world. The diamond-shaped panels of its exterior had shattered in places, sharp edges glinting dully beneath the gray overcast sky. Vines crept across its walls like veins, threading through the cracked structure and clinging to what glass remained. Water pooled at the base where the street had collapsed—an entire corner of the road washed out from years of rain and neglect. Rusted cars were half-submerged along the sunken curb, their doors hanging open like broken jaws, tires swallowed by moss and debris.

The main entrance had long since caved in, buried beneath fallen signage and a twisted mess of scaffolding. But Ellie found another way.

Her shoulders broke the water’s surface with a sharp inhale as she swam through the dark, jagged hole at the library’s lower edge—a breach torn into the foundation by time or explosion, she couldn’t tell. She pulled herself through with a grunt, boots scraping stone, the water sloshing around her knees as she rose into a half-submerged storage room.

Dripping, panting, she slung her pack off and squeezed water from the hem of her shirt. The inside of the library was silent but not still. The wind moaned through broken windows far above. Dust motes floated lazily in angled beams of light. Ivy and ferns had overtaken whole shelves, curling up staircases and between the rails of the once-sleek escalators. Books lay scattered across the floor, their pages warped and fused from years of moisture—little islands of words drowned by time.

Ellie moved carefully, stepping out of the flooded room and into the open atrium. Her boots made soft squelches on the mossy tile, rifle slung across her back, hand on the grip.

And that’s when she saw her.

A lone woman sat on a plastic crate just beyond the information desk—her back to Ellie, slouched slightly, head bobbing faintly to a rhythm only she could hear. Tangled black hair was pulled into a lazy bun. One hand rested on her thigh; the other held a half-eaten protein bar. Earbuds snaked from her ears into a pouch on her lap—no situational awareness. No idea she wasn’t alone.

Ellie moved like a shadow—silent, soaked, deliberate. Her boots made no more sound than the creaking groan of the ancient library walls as she crept closer, knife already drawn, the steel slick with condensation and tension. Her breath was shallow, heart thudding hard in her ears, though she kept her movements steady.

The woman didn’t hear a thing.

In a flash, Ellie was on her. She grabbed the woman by the shoulder and yanked her backward just enough, her knife flashing up and pressing cold and hard against the side of her throat.

The woman gasped, jerking instinctively—but froze as Ellie’s arm locked across her collarbone.

“Don’t,” Ellie warned, voice low, right against the woman’s ear. “Don’t scream. You do, I slit your throat.”

The woman’s breath hitched, body tensing, the protein bar falling from her hand with a soft plop onto the concrete floor. Her fingers twitched, but she didn’t fight. Didn’t move. Her earbuds hung loose now, dislodged in the sudden scuffle.

“I don’t wanna kill you,” Ellie said evenly, her voice shaking just a little—not from fear, but from restraint. “You just need to answer something. Be straight with me, and I’ll walk away. You’ll live. Understand?”

The woman gave a faint nod, throat tight under the blade.

Ellie kept the knife steady as she shifted, her other hand reaching into her pocket. She pulled out the worn Polaroid—creased edges, water-stained corners, smudged writing.

She held it in front of the woman’s face, just inches from her eyes.

“You recognize anyone in this photo?”

The woman blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Her voice trembled. “No. I—I don’t think I do—”

Ellie pressed the knife closer, enough to draw a bead of blood.

“Bullshit,” she hissed. “Look again.”

A breathless silence. The woman’s eyes widened, darting between the faces frozen in time on the photo—Ellie watched every flicker of her reaction.

The woman swallowed hard.

The woman swallowed hard, breath shallow against the edge of the blade. Her fingers twitched at her sides before she slowly, carefully raised one hand.

“I’ve… I’ve seen her,” she said, pointing a shaking finger at the photo Ellie held up. Her nail tapped the glossy surface just below the image of a sharp-eyed Hispanic woman with dark hair pulled back into a sleek bun—Kira.

“She’s the captain of this zone. I don’t—” the woman’s voice cracked slightly, “—I don’t really know her. I was just assigned here two days ago, I swear.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed, studying the woman’s face. Her hand didn’t move from the knife.

“Where is she now?”

A tense silence followed. Ellie could hear the distant echo of water dripping from a crack in the ceiling above them. Somewhere in the library’s vast skeleton, a piece of metal creaked under its own rusted weight.

“Third floor,” the woman said quickly. “She has a room up there—the old reading lounge. East corner, past the children’s wing.”

“This’ll hurt,” Ellie muttered coldly.

“No—wait—”

Thwack.

Ellie’s fist cracked sharply against the side of her head, and the woman crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll. Not dead—Ellie made a promise after all—but she’d wake up to a skull-splitting headache and a fat bruise to remember it by.

Ellie caught her breath, rolled the unconscious woman behind a stack of toppled filing cabinets and plastic storage bins, then stood and steadied herself. Her fingers flexed around her knife one more time before slipping it back into the sheath at her side.

The library groaned around her—quiet but not silent. She moved through its lower level with practiced caution, keeping low and close to the broken walls, her steps light over splintered tile and carpet gone soft with mold. Bookshelves had collapsed like dominoes, forming jagged barricades of warped literature. Ferns spilled from cracks in the foundation, curling across the floor in patches. Ivy threaded up broken window panes and poured in through crumbled corners in the ceiling, dripping with rainwater. Old displays for local author readings and long-forgotten book clubs still hung on peeling bulletin boards. Water pooled in shallow dips across the floor, reflecting the gray daylight leaking through broken glass above.

Ellie moved soundlessly up a stairwell whose railing had long since rusted through. On the second floor, voices filtered through the still air.

Laughter.

She pressed herself to the wall at the landing, peering around the corner. A group of ARK soldiers were gathered around a makeshift table. They were playing cards with damp, dog-eared decks, passing around rations and chewing noisily, boots kicked up on broken chairs. One of them was singing under his breath, something tuneless and low.

Ellie held her breath and timed her movement with a clap of thunder rolling through the distance. When they laughed again—at a bad hand or someone losing a bet—she slipped past behind a shattered display case, weaving between toppled shelves and old reading cubbies, careful not to step on broken glass or rusted cans scattered across the floor.

A silent climb brought her to the third level, where the air grew heavier, quieter. The laughter below faded. This floor felt different—older. Forgotten.

Here, nature had taken over with less resistance. The carpet was damp under her boots, the ceiling sagging in places from water damage. Hallway lights hung by wires, long since dead. Paint peeled from the walls in long, curling strips. Mold crept up from the baseboards in jagged green-black blooms. The children’s wing was visible down the corridor—rows of tiny chairs and colorful posters faded to pastels, a storytime mural flaking away on the far wall.

Ellie passed a deflated bean bag chair and a collapsed puppet theater, then paused, her eyes locking on the door at the end of the east corridor. A sign still hung above it, barely legible through grime: Reading Lounge.

Ellie reached the door, handgun drawn. Her fingers flexed around the grip, sweat mixing with the lingering rain on her skin. She pressed her shoulder against the wood and slowly, carefully, pushed it open with the barrel of the gun.

The room beyond was wide and dim, lit only by the muted gray light filtering through a long, cracked skylight. Plants had crept in through the fractures, vines draping across shelves like curtains. The air smelled of rot, mildew, and damp paper.

At the far end of the room, a woman stood hunched over a table layered with old maps, photographs, and scribbled notes. Her back was to Ellie. She muttered to herself—too quiet to make out the words—but her voice had an edge of irritation, focus.

Ellie stepped inside, raising her pistol.

“Turn around,” she said flatly. “Slow.”

The woman froze. Her shoulders tensed, and her fingers stilled on the edge of the map. A beat passed. Then, slowly, she turned.

Hispanic, late twenties maybe. Dark curls tied back in a messy bun. Sharp cheekbones. Tired eyes. A thin scar ran along her collarbone, partially hidden by a jacket too light for the weather. She blinked as she took in the sight of Ellie—gun aimed, body rigid with purpose.

”Remember me?” 

Recognition flickered across her face. Her mouth parted slightly, but no words came.

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “Yeah,” she muttered. “You remember me.”

Kira kept her hands up, her posture calm but coiled, eyes fixed on Ellie’s gun. “What do you want?” she asked, voice low and steady.

Ellie didn’t blink. “Answers.”

“I don’t have any,” Kira said quickly. “And if you shoot me, every soldier in this building’s gonna be on you in seconds.”

Ellie took a slow step forward, gun still trained on her. “Yeah,” she said coldly, “but you’ll still be dead.”

A flicker of unease passed across Kira’s face, but she didn’t flinch. “We could’ve killed you. We didn’t.”

Ellie’s nostrils flared. “Maybe you should’ve. Or maybe,” her voice sharpened, “you should’ve stayed in this shit-filled city and away from my home.”

Kira’s jaw worked for a moment, then she spoke, her tone carefully neutral. “The old man was tough. Wouldn’t say a word. No matter how much we hit him.”

Something snapped. Ellie’s eyes narrowed to slits, her hand tightening around the grip of her gun. “Shut the fuck up.”

But Kira kept going, her voice growing sharper, testing. “We had to break bones, and he still—”

“I said shut up!” Ellie barked, lunging forward. Her arm reared back, fist clenched, ready to strike. “Fucking cunt—”

A blur of motion—Kira’s hand snatched a heavy book from the table and hurled it. The thick spine cracked against Ellie’s forehead with a dull thump, making her stagger with a sharp hiss of pain.

“Shit—!” Ellie cursed, stumbling a step back as her vision blurred.

Kira didn’t wait—she shoved past her hard, nearly knocking Ellie over as she sprinted toward the door. Papers scattered behind her, the table rattling in her wake.

Ellie recovered fast, shaking the sting out of her head, and spun around—fury building in her chest like wildfire.

Kira’s boots thundered down the hallway, her voice slicing through the crumbling silence of the library.

“Trespasser! She’s armed!”

Ellie burst out after her, already firing. “You fucking bitch!” she screamed, breath ragged, feet pounding hard against the warped floorboards. Her gun barked once—twice—ricochets snapping off metal shelving and shattered glass.

Guards down the corridor spun at the noise, card game scattering to the floor. One shouted, “There! She’s on the third floor!”—and suddenly, the whole building roared to life.

Bullets tore into the walls around Ellie as she sprinted, ducking low behind a row of mold-eaten filing cabinets. Plaster exploded overhead, chunks of ceiling raining down. Kira darted left through a warped doorway just as Ellie skidded after her, shoving shoulder-first through it with a snarl.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

The hallway ahead was chaos—one guard was fumbling for his rifle, another already aiming. Ellie dropped to a slide, bullets screaming overhead, and rolled into cover behind an overturned book cart. She returned fire blindly, forcing them back, then scrambled to her feet again.

Kira kept ahead, weaving between doorways, shoving over tables and chairs behind her to block the path. A metal display rack toppled with a crash, spilling decayed children’s books across the floor. Ellie leapt over it, her breath burning in her throat, gun still raised, eyes locked on the fluttering edge of Kira’s jacket just ahead.

She chased her down a crumbling staircase, paint peeling from the walls like skin. Gunfire echoed from below—more guards pouring in, confused shouts echoing off stone and steel.

Doors slammed open. Radios crackled.

“Third floor! West wing!”

“Cut her off—get someone on the south stairwell!”

Ellie veered through a side corridor, nearly losing her footing on a wet patch of moss-covered tile. Kira slammed through the exit doors at the end of the hallway, sunlight flashing as they burst into what remained of the lobby—a cavernous, half-flooded space lined with broken shelving and shattered glass. Water had seeped in through cracked foundations, pooling across the marble floor, slick and shimmering.

Kira turned to glance back just as Ellie raised her pistol and fired again. The shot missed by inches, striking the pillar beside Kira’s head with a harsh crack. She flinched but didn’t stop, leaping over the half-submerged check-in desk and out into the street beyond.

Ellie burst out into the open, boots splashing hard into the flooded pavement. Her gun barked again and again, muzzle flash strobing through the rain. Kira ducked and weaved through the wreckage-strewn street, barely keeping ahead, until she threw herself down a concrete stairwell and vanished into the yawning dark of the Seattle subway.

“Fuck!” Ellie hissed, her legs burning as she followed, barely pausing before descending after her.

The stairwell reeked of mold and rust. It plunged into near-complete darkness, the flickering remnants of a long-dead security light barely illuminating the first few steps. Ellie yanked out her flashlight, thumbing it on—its cone of pale light slicing through the murk just as she hit the bottom landing.

“You can’t fucking hide forever!” she shouted, voice echoing off tile and steel as she surged into the tunnel.

Kira’s silhouette flickered in and out of view ahead, weaving between broken benches and crumbling support beams. Ellie raised her pistol and fired again—too far, too fast. The shot went wide. Kira ducked, disappearing down a side corridor littered with debris and collapsed ceiling tiles.

“Shit!” Ellie muttered, charging after her. Her breath came hot and shallow. Sweat mixed with grime on her brow as she rounded the corner—

And was hit hard in the gut.

“Ungh—fuck!” she gasped, stumbling back as a thick piece of wood slammed into her ribs. Kira lunged out from behind a support beam, swinging again.

Ellie blocked it with her forearm, teeth gritted, then tackled her sideways. They crashed into the wall, grappling in the dark—grunting, kicking, fingers clawing for control. Kira threw a punch that grazed Ellie’s temple. Ellie responded with a headbutt that sent both of them staggering.

The concrete beneath them groaned.

Cracks spiderwebbed beneath their feet.

“Oh shit—”

The floor collapsed.

They dropped through the rotted platform in a burst of dust and splinters, falling into a ruined maintenance tunnel below. Ellie hit the ground hard, her shoulder slamming into wet concrete. Her flashlight flew from her grasp, flickering wildly across the far wall before going out with a sharp click.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck!” Kira’s voice, panicked, echoed in the dark. Then, footsteps—fast and fading, splashing into the darkness.

Ellie groaned, rolling onto her side. Her ribs screamed. Blood trickled from her scalp, warm and sticky. She reached out, grabbing her flashlight, slapping the side until it sputtered back to life in a weak, trembling beam.

Spores drifted in the air around her, thick and glowing in the beam like dust motes.

For a moment, all was still.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Then she stood—slowly, every bone aching—and turned toward the path Kira had taken. The tunnel stretched ahead like a throat, choked with debris, water, and decay. Somewhere far ahead, she thought she could hear boots splashing, heavy breathing.

She clenched her jaw and started forward.

Ellie moved carefully now—each step through the dark tunnel measured and quiet, the dim beam of her flashlight guiding her through collapsed ductwork and shallow pools of stagnant water. Her breathing was steady, but her heart still raced. She listened, alert for the faintest sound.

There.

A soft, rasping wheeze—shallow, labored.

Ellie crept toward it, gun lowered but ready, until her light caught movement ahead. Kira was slumped against an old emergency exit, one arm clutched tight to her chest. Her shoulders heaved with effort. She had no mask—just labored breaths dragged through tainted air. Sweat beaded on her brow. The spores danced like ash all around her.

Ellie stepped closer, boots splashing softly.

“Hi, Kira.”

Kira’s head jerked up, eyes wild as she pressed her back harder against the door. She bared her teeth.

“You stupid bitch,” she spat, voice raw. “We’re both infected now.”

“Am I?” Ellie didn’t flinch. She holstered her pistol slowly, deliberately, then stepped forward into the heart of the spores. But she stopped just feet from Kira—calm, unbothered—and then, without breaking eye contact…

Took a breath.

Deep. Unhurried.

Kira blinked.

Watched.

And for a long second, said nothing.

Then her expression began to change. Confusion first. Then disbelief. Then something colder… older.

Recognition.

“…It’s you,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, the words barely carrying over the distance. Her body sagged slightly against the wall, like the weight of her own realization had just struck her harder than anything Ellie could’ve done.

Ellie’s brow knit. “What the hell does that mean?”

But Kira didn’t answer—not right away. She just stared, mouth slightly open, as if seeing a ghost.

She gave a choked little laugh, then another, and soon it spilled into something unhinged—raw and bitter.

“It’s you,” she wheezed again, slumping further down the door. “You’re her.” Another laugh tore from her chest. “You were right there. Right under our fucking noses… and we didn’t even know it.”

Ellie’s stomach knotted. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she asked, voice low but shaking with tension.

Kira didn’t answer. She only grinned—mouth twisted, teeth streaked with blood from a bitten lip.

“Why should I tell you anything now?” she said, spitting the words like venom. “I’m dead anyway.” Her breath rattled. “Not like I get out of this.”

Ellie’s eyes dropped briefly to the tunnel floor. Something glinted beneath the stale water and half-rotted paper flyers: a rusted lead pipe, jagged at one end.

She stepped toward it.

Kira didn’t flinch.

Ellie bent, slow and quiet, and picked it up.

The metal felt cold in her hand. Heavy.

She stepped back toward the dying woman and stood over her, pipe at her side.

“Then let’s speed it up,” Ellie said evenly. “You can tell me what you know, and I make it quick.” Her voice hardened, darkening. “Or I make it so much worse.”

Kira’s face twitched at that—something flickering behind her bloodshot eyes. Not fear. Not quite. Something closer to resignation… and spite. Like she was already making her choice.

She licked her lips. Smiled, just barely.

“Do your worst,” she said, voice ragged, but steady.

Ellie didn’t move for a moment.

She just stared at the woman slouched against the rusted door, lungs rattling from the spores, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. The pipe in Ellie’s hand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Her grip had turned white-knuckled, trembling—not from weakness, but from the flood of heat rising in her chest. Rage. Fear. Everything she’d been holding in since she found Joel, broken and bleeding. Since the pain started to rot her from the inside.

Her jaw clenched.

“You don’t get to laugh,” Ellie said softly. Then louder—“You don’t fucking get to laugh.”

She raised the pipe with a snarl and brought it down.

---

The rain came down in sheets, drumming against the crumbling pavement and soaking Ellie to the bone. She stood in the weak glow of the theater’s marquee—its flickering bulbs barely cutting through the darkness, casting distorted letters across her rain-slicked jacket. Her hand trembled as she lifted it, pausing just before the door. She drew in a shaky breath, chest tight.

Then she knocked. Softly.

“It’s me,” she called out, her voice fragile, barely carrying over the rain.

A second later, the door wrenched open.

“Ellie,” Dina breathed, her face breaking into pure, overwhelming relief. She didn’t wait—she pulled Ellie into a tight hug, arms wrapping around her, holding her like she might vanish again. Ellie melted into her, clutching Dina back just as fiercely, her fingers digging into the fabric as she inhaled that familiar scent—vanilla, smoke, and home.

Dina pulled back after a moment, her hands going to Ellie’s face. Her eyes widened at the sight of the blood streaking her cheeks, her soaked hair plastered to her forehead, the haunted look in her eyes.

“Are you—? Ellie, are you okay?” she asked, her voice low, urgent.

Ellie gave a faint nod, her voice hoarse. “I’m fine.”

But her body said otherwise. She swayed on her feet, shoulders stiff, hands stained red and trembling.

Dina didn’t push. She just grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, quickly barring the door shut behind them.

“Jesus, kiddo.” Tommy’s voice came from deeper inside the lobby, rough with concern. He stepped into view, his expression darkening when he saw her. “What the hell happened out there?”

Jesse stood just behind him, arms crossed—but his relief was visible in the way his posture relaxed the moment he saw her. The set of his mouth softened, and Ellie could tell he was holding back something between a grin and a sigh.

Dina glanced over her shoulder. “Jesse explained you two got separated,” she said gently.

Ellie followed her gaze to him. Their eyes met. She didn’t speak—she just gave the smallest nod, her expression a silent thank-you. Jesse gave a half-smile back, like he understood.

“Yeah,” Ellie said, barely above a whisper. “We did.”

Jesse’s eyes drifted down to her hands, the blood that had begun to dry, cracked across her knuckles. His brow furrowed. “That yours?”

Ellie looked down slowly, as if noticing it for the first time. The red had soaked into her palms, beneath her fingernails. Her fingers twitched, faintly shaking.

“I… I—”

“She’s exhausted,” Dina cut in, stepping in close again. Her voice was soft but firm. “Let me clean her up first. Then we can talk.”

Ellie didn’t argue. She couldn’t. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Dina gently placed a hand on her lower back and guided her toward the side room—the old dressing room they’d been using to crash in.

Ellie walked stiffly, boots leaving muddy prints behind her. Her eyes were distant now, fogged over, shoulders hunched under the weight of something she couldn’t put into words. Somewhere beneath the surface, screams still echoed—Kira’s voice, the crunch of bone, the splash of blood. It all rang in her ears like a ghost she couldn’t shake.

Dina sat her down gently on the worn bench, brushing wet hair from her forehead before slipping away to grab supplies.

Ellie sat still, barely blinking. The blood on her hands stared back at her like an accusation.

It didn’t take long for Dina to return. She moved quietly, the door clicking shut behind her, arms full—an old tin bucket filled with warm water, a stained rag draped over the side, a threadbare towel slung over her shoulder. She didn’t speak right away. Just set the bucket down gently beside Ellie and knelt in front of her, eyes scanning the girl she loved.

“Okay,” Dina said softly, voice steady but thick with emotion. “Arms up.”

Ellie didn’t question it. She lifted her arms, wincing slightly as her stiff shoulders protested the movement. Dina peeled off her soaked, mud-spattered T-shirt and tossed it over the nearby chair. The sound it made hitting the wood was the only one in the room for a long second.

Beneath the shirt, Ellie’s body told a silent story—blood smeared down her arms and across her ribs, purple bruises blooming along her sides, faint red scratches trailing down her back like thorns had clawed her in a fight. The dim light above flickered slightly, casting shadows across every cut and mark.

Dina didn’t flinch. She reached for Ellie’s hands first, dipping the rag into the bucket and squeezing out the excess. Then she began wiping gently, slowly rubbing away the dried blood from Ellie’s fingers, her palms, under her nails. Her touch was careful, reverent.

Ellie just watched—silent, dazed—her eyes glued to the motion of Dina’s hands.

When Dina was done with her hands, she stood and moved behind Ellie, kneeling again as she wet the rag a second time. She touched Ellie’s back carefully, dabbing at the open cuts with a light hand. The cold sting of water meeting raw skin made Ellie hiss softly, her shoulders tensing.

“Sorry,” Dina murmured.

“It’s fine,” Ellie rasped, though her jaw clenched.

Dina didn’t stop. She kept working with slow, patient movements, wiping away the dirt, blood, and sweat. Her fingers brushed gently across Ellie’s spine, the curve of her shoulder blade, trailing down where skin had split open or bruises had bloomed. It was quiet work—the kind that said I’m here more than any words could. The only sounds were the occasional ripple of water and the soft, rhythmic thud of the rag dropping back into the bucket.

And then Ellie spoke—her voice low and rough, cutting through the stillness like glass.

“I found Kira.”

Dina’s hand paused mid-motion, rag hovering just above Ellie’s lower back. Her breath hitched slightly, but she said nothing—giving Ellie space, waiting.

Ellie swallowed hard. “I made her talk.”

The words were almost mechanical. Detached. As if spoken from somewhere far away. Dina didn’t ask what that meant. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she set the rag down carefully in the bucket. Then, without a word, she shifted forward and wrapped her arms around Ellie from behind. Her arms circled Ellie’s middle, her chin coming to rest gently on Ellie’s shoulder. It was instinct more than thought. A silent answer to pain too heavy to name.

Ellie didn’t move for a moment. Then her hands found Dina’s forearm and clung to it—desperate, trembling, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her head tilted slightly toward Dina’s, her lip trembling so hard she had to bite it to keep from breaking down.

“What happened?” Dina asked softly against her skin, voice warm and quiet and careful.

Ellie opened her mouth. Tried. The words were there, buried somewhere in the ash and wreckage inside her, but they wouldn’t come. They caught in her throat, choked off before they could make it out.

Her breath shuddered. And Dina, without pushing, without pressing, shushed her gently.

“Shh… we can talk about it later,” she whispered. “You don’t have to right now.”

Ellie nodded—just barely.

Then, after a long pause, her voice cracked through the silence.

“I can’t lose you.”

It was barely a whisper. Raw. Broken.

Dina’s grip tightened immediately, her arms anchoring Ellie like they could somehow hold back everything crashing down on her. Her voice, low and steady in her ear:

“Good. Because you’re not going to.”

Ellie closed her eyes, letting the words settle inside her like a weight finally put down. She leaned into Dina’s embrace, her head tilting until their temples touched. The quiet between them wasn’t heavy now—it was full, warm, alive. Not everything had to be said. Not tonight.

Outside, the rain kept falling, soft against the theater’s old roof. Somewhere down the hall, Tommy’s boots scuffed quietly across the floor. Jesse’s low voice murmured something and was met with a tired laugh. The world was still there. Still brutal. Still waiting.

But in that small room, for the moment, they were safe. Together.

Dina pressed a kiss to the side of Ellie’s head. “You’re okay,” she whispered.

Ellie didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

She just held on tighter.

Notes:

800 kudos and yet no 800 comments last chapter telling me how much you love me… suspicious

Chapter 17: SEATTLE DAY 4

Notes:

Man it has only been a month since I last updated. And y’all leaving RIP comments. Do you think that makes an author want to finish a story? Yes or no?

To the assigned field unit,

Target is confirmed to be residing in or around the Jackson settlement.

Your directive is to extract any verifiable intel the smuggler possesses.

His knowledge may prove pivotal to the future.

Prioritize information. Use violence if necessary.

Remember: the foundation must be laid before ascension can begin.

We endure in silence. We move unseen.

— D.

Ellie stared down at the letter, the paper worn soft at the creases, smudged with dirt and rain. Her eyes traced the words again and again, each line sinking in deeper than the last.

They had been after her. Not Jackson. Not Joel. Her.

And Joel... He hadn’t said a word. He never did.

Her throat tightened as she reached the end of the page, the words blurring.

He protected her. Again.

Took the beating. Refused to give them anything.

Her breath caught, chest rising unevenly. Behind her closed eyes came the memory like a gut punch—Joel’s face, bloodied and bruised, one eye swollen shut, lips split, skin stained dark from fists and boots.

Ellie made a strangled sound and crumpled the letter in her fist. The paper crackled in protest as her fingers clenched tight, knuckles white with fury and grief. Her jaw trembled, but she didn’t cry—not yet. Not out loud.

She forced herself to breathe—slow, shallow draws of air that scraped her throat on the way in. In. Out. Again. Her eyes shifted, pulled from the crushing weight of the letter to the figure curled on their makeshift bed.

Dina.

The dim light barely touched her features, but even in the shadows Ellie could see the pallor in her skin. Too pale. Her breathing steady, but faint. The faint furrow in her brow even in sleep. Ellie’s stomach tightened. Dina needed real care—proper stitches, medicine that wasn’t half-expired, hands that knew more than guesswork. But the world didn’t hand out miracles, and Jackson was a long way away.

Ellie sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over just enough to trace her fingers along the curve of Dina’s cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair away. The contact was feather-light, almost afraid to disturb her.

“I love you,” she whispered, the words barely catching in her throat before she let them out.

Carefully, Ellie pulled herself away, the warmth of Dina’s body leaving a hollow in the thin blankets. She moved quietly, socked feet silent on the old theater floorboards. At the door, she paused long enough to glance back—one last look—before she slipped out and eased it shut behind her.

The air outside the room was cooler, carrying the faint dampness from the storm that had passed earlier. She crossed the aisle toward the old guitar leaning against a faded velvet seat, its wood scarred but still holding together.

Ellie picked it up, the familiar weight settling into her lap like an old friend she hadn’t decided if she could trust again. Her thumb brushed over the strings, coaxing a low, imperfect note. She sighed, let her head drop for a moment, then began to pluck a slow, wandering melody—one that didn’t belong to any song.

Ellie kept plucking at the strings, the soft, uneven notes spilling into the empty theater. Her gaze stayed fixed on the worn fretboard, but her mind wasn’t here—it was split clean down the middle.

One part of her, sharp and relentless, screamed at her to finish this. To track them down, find out exactly what they wanted, and make them choke on it. To make them pay until the memory of Joel’s bruised, bloodied face didn’t burn so hot in her chest.

The other part—the voice that sounded too much like Joel when he was being the calm one—told her to let it go. Take Dina home. Mend. Raise their kid in Jackson where walls kept out the worst of the world. Pretend that this didn’t have to be her fight.

Her fingers stumbled over a string, the note buzzing wrong. She froze, breathing out slow, when a voice pulled her back.

“Pickin’ at it like that, you’ll wear a hole through it,” Tommy’s drawl came from behind.

Ellie twisted at the waist, glancing over her shoulder. The older man was making his way down the aisle, his steps steady but slower than she remembered. He lowered himself into the seat beside her with a low groan, rubbing his knee.

“Gettin’ old,” he muttered, more to himself than her, before leaning back and giving her a look. “How’s she doin’?”

His voice was casual, but the question carried weight—more than he probably meant to show.

Ellie shifted the guitar slightly in her lap, letting the strings fall silent. “She’s… hangin’ in there,” she said after a beat, her voice low. “Pale, tired… but she’s hangin’ in there.”

Tommy nodded, the motion slow and thoughtful, his fingers coming up to scratch at his beard. For a second, the movement hit her like a punch—it was so much like Joel, like muscle memory shared between them, that she had to look away before it stuck in her throat.

Then his tone shifted, quieter, almost testing. “And you? How you feelin’… about the baby?”

Ellie didn’t even pause to think about how he knew—Dina must’ve told him, or Jesse. It didn’t matter.

“I’m…” She blew out a breath, the corner of her mouth twitching in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m fuckin’ terrified.”

Tommy’s brows lifted just a little, then he let out a soft hum, leaning back in his chair. “Y’know… when I was younger, I asked Joel the same thing. ’Bout Sarah.”

Ellie’s head turned toward him.

“He told me he was scared shitless,” Tommy said with a faint smirk.

Ellie huffed out a laugh, small but real, shaking her head. “Yeah… I can only imagine.”

Tommy leaned back with a grunt, stretching his legs out as though the memory itself made him feel older. “Joel was about your age when Sarah was born. Man, I remember him damn near losin’ his mind tryin’ to get ready. Baby-proofin’ every corner of the house—drawers, cabinets, outlets… you name it, he was on it.”

Ellie’s lips quirked a little higher at the image, her chest tight with something sharp and soft all at once.

“He was so sure he was gonna screw it up,” Tommy went on, voice quieter now, more distant. “But then she came along… and it was like he’d been waitin’ for her his whole life.”

Ellie’s hand stilled on the strings, the last note fading into the hush of the theater. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on the wood grain of the guitar, but her throat worked as she swallowed hard.

Tommy’s gaze lingered on her, soft but steady. “He wasn’t perfect. God knows he wasn’t. But with Sarah… with you…” He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He gave everything he had. Every damn piece of himself.”

Ellie blinked fast, her vision blurring for just a second before she forced it back down, jaw tight. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice rough. “That sounds like him.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying her the way Joel used to when he was trying to read her without words. “So… what’s the plan, kiddo?” he asked finally, voice even but laced with concern.

Ellie exhaled through her nose, shoulders sagging as she closed her eyes. Behind her lids, the images came unbidden—Joel’s face swollen, bloodied. Then Dina, soft and pale in sleep, Ellie’s hand pressed against her stomach, the faintest whisper of movement beneath her palm. A life. Their life.

Her throat tightened. “They were after me,” she admitted, her voice low, raw. “Joel… he was just a means to an end.”

Tommy’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t interrupt. “How’d you figure that out?”

Ellie’s fingers curled tighter around the guitar neck as flashes assaulted her again—screams echoing through concrete halls, the wet crunch of metal striking flesh, the spray of blood warm against her face. She flinched and shook her head, trying to force it back into the dark where it belonged.

“It doesn’t matter,” she rasped, opening her eyes at last, the weight of them heavy but sharp. “I got what I needed.”

Tommy studied her for a long moment, but whatever questions sat on his tongue, he kept them locked behind his teeth. The silence stretched until Ellie broke it, her voice steadier than she felt.

“Dina needs medical attention,” she said. “We should pack up and head back.”

Tommy shifted in his seat, arms resting on his knees. “What about that crew?” he asked. “What if they come sniffin’ around for you again?”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, the answer immediate. “Then I’ll kill them.” She said it flat, like a fact of nature. “But right now… Dina needs a doctor. A warm bed. Not some shitty cot in an abandoned theater.”

Tommy’s eyes lingered on her, as if weighing her words against something in his own head. Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Alright.”

Ellie tilted her head, searching his face. “You’re fine with leaving?”

Tommy leaned back, staring off toward the dim outline of the rain-smeared windows. His voice, when it came, was quieter, tinged with something rougher than weariness. “I’ve done things out here I ain’t proud of. But…” He swallowed, jaw working. “I know what Joel would want. He’d want me goin’ with you. Making sure you and that little one of yours get home safe.”

The words settled between them, heavy but certain. Ellie felt her throat tighten, a pang that was half grief and half something like gratitude.

Tommy finally let out a long sigh and pushed himself to his feet, joints popping with the effort. “We’ll head out at first light,” he said, brushing his palms down his thighs like he was grounding himself. “I’ll get a map spread out, see if there’s a quick way back to Jackson that’ll keep us outta trouble.”

He glanced back at her, his expression softening just a fraction. “Try and get some more rest, kiddo. You’ll need it.”

Ellie gave the faintest nod, watching as he turned up the aisle. His boots thudded against the warped theater floor, fading into the dark until another set of footsteps came from the opposite direction.

Jesse emerged, rubbing the back of his neck, his face weary but still carrying a flicker of relief when his eyes landed on her. “Hey,” he said gently, almost cautiously, before settling onto the armrest of a nearby chair. “How’s Dina?”

Ellie exhaled through her nose, her gaze flicking toward the closed side room door before coming back to him. “She’s sleeping now,” she said, her voice low but steadier than before. “She’ll be better once we get her home.”

Jesse leaned forward a little, elbows resting on his knees as he studied her face. “What about you? How’re you holding up?”

Ellie sighed, dragging a hand down her face before letting it drop heavy against her lap. “I’m… tired,” she admitted, the word carrying more weight than just lack of sleep. Her eyes flicked toward the rafters, like the theater itself could hear her. “And I miss a real bed.”

That earned a laugh from Jesse, low and warm, breaking some of the heaviness that had been hanging in the air. “Yeah, no kidding. First thing I’m doing when we get back? Hot shower. Like, scalding hot. Then I’m climbing into bed and not moving for a week.”

Ellie snorted, shaking her head, but the corner of her mouth lifted. “Sounds nice.”

Jesse’s grin tilted into something more teasing. “You better catch up on sleep while you can, Williams. ‘Cause once that baby shows up?” He gave a mock whistle and shook his head. “Say goodbye to quiet nights. Gonna be a whole lotta screaming.”

That actually pulled a laugh out of Ellie, rough but real, easing some of the tension from her shoulders. She nudged his arm lightly. “I’ll take a crying baby over a clicker waking me up.”

Jesse chuckled, giving her a sidelong look. “Yeah… can’t argue with that.”

Ellie let out a long breath, rubbing her palm against the worn denim of her jeans before glancing sideways at him. “Thanks again… y’know, for coming out here.” Her voice was low, almost swallowed by the hollow vastness of the theater.

Jesse tilted his head, an incredulous half-smile tugging at his mouth. “C’mon, you don’t gotta thank me for that. You know I’d follow you to hell and back if you asked.”

Ellie huffed a humorless laugh, shaking her head as she stared at the floorboards. “Feels like we’re already there.”

That earned a chuckle from Jesse. “Yeah. Sure as hell ain’t Jackson.”

Before Ellie could answer, a sharp thud echoed through the theater—followed by muffled shouting. The sound rolled through the old walls like thunder. Both of them froze, eyes locking for half a beat, before Jesse’s expression hardened. He reached for his gun, motioning toward the double doors.

“Stay behind me,” he muttered, pushing forward.

Ellie’s heart kicked against her ribs, her pulse rushing in her ears as she followed. The voices grew louder—angry, frantic—until Jesse shoved the doors open.

The crack of a gunshot split the air.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. Jesse’s body jerked, then crumpled to the ground in front of her, his gun clattering uselessly across the floor.

“Jesse!” Her whisper tore out of her raw, throat burning, but his body lay still—unmoving. Her vision tunneled, panic threatening to drag her under.

“Stand the fuck up!” a voice barked, sharp and cold.

Ellie’s head snapped up, her chest heaving. Two silhouettes emerged from the shadows of the lobby, guns leveled.

“Don’t you fucking move, Ellie!” Tommy’s voice cut through the chaos, strained and furious. “Ellie, don’t—”

He was cut off with a harsh grunt as a boot slammed into his ribs, the crack of impact echoing. Tommy doubled over with a pained groan, clutching his side.

“Shut the fuck up, old man,” the second stranger snarled, his rifle swinging down toward Tommy as if daring him to speak again.

Ellie’s hands trembled where they hovered near her weapon, torn between rage and fear, her mind screaming at her to do something.

Ellie’s breath rasped in her throat as her eyes darted once—just once—back toward the theater doors. Dina. She was still locked away inside, tucked in the little room with the blankets and the bucket and the faint smell of disinfectant. They didn’t know. They had no idea she was here. Relief washed through her chest in a fleeting wave, just enough to steady her shaking hands.

Slowly, deliberately, Ellie began to straighten from her crouch. Her arms lifted into the damp, heavy air, palms open. Tommy’s voice cracked across the lobby like a whip.

“No!”

His cry was cut short by the brutal crack of a boot against his ribs. He folded, coughing wetly as he curled on the floor passing out.

Ellie flinched but forced her gaze up. She recognized them now—the last two. Faces seared into her memory, ghosts she’d been chasing across Seattle like shadows slipping through her grasp. Cam and Ty. The last of the Ark crew.

Ty tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she studied Ellie with something sharp and searching. Her finger twitched against the trigger, but she didn’t fire. “It’s her,” she muttered, almost to herself. “The girl from Jackson.”

Ellie’s throat tightened. She forced the word out, steady despite the hammering of her heart. “That’s right.”

Cam barked a humorless laugh, the barrel of his gun never wavering from Tommy’s head. “So what? Shoot her already, Ty. End this.”

But Ty didn’t move. Her gaze clung to Ellie like she was trying to peel her open and read what was inside. There was hesitation there, a crack in the mask of certainty.

Ellie swallowed, voice scraping its way out of her throat. “Your group has been looking for me.”

Ty’s brows twitched, her jaw tightening. “What do you know about what we’re looking for?”

Ellie’s lips pressed into a thin line. She drew in a breath, then tilted her head, defiance hardening her voice. “I know they sent you after the immune girl. The one who can’t get sick. The one who can’t turn.”

Slowly, Ellie tugged her sleeve up, exposing the ugly, raw wound still etched into her forearm from protecting Dina. The skin was puckered and pink, half-healed, the imprint of teeth unmistakable.

She angled her arm so the light caught it. “I found her,” she said, her words razor-sharp. Her eyes burned into Ty’s. “You’re looking at her.”

A harsh laugh split the silence. Cam spat onto the wet concrete floor, the sound ugly in the echoing lobby. “Bullshit.” His rifle never wavered, still trained on Tommy’s skull. “She’s just blowing smoke to buy herself time. Don’t fall for it.”

But Ty didn’t dismiss her so quickly. Her face furrowed, lines cutting deep across her forehead as she took in the mark on Ellie’s arm. Her grip on the gun was steady, but her voice wasn’t when she spoke. “That looks… very real.”

“Don’t you dare,” Cam snapped, voice rising. His finger twitched against the trigger. “We’re not wasting another goddamn second on this.”

Ty’s gun didn’t lower, but she turned her head, glaring at him now instead of Ellie. “And what if it is her? Huh? What if this is what we’ve been lookin for?”

Cam’s face twisted, lips curling back as he barked, “Don’t give me that shit. That old man said she was dead. Said it a dozen times with his teeth busted out. And you think this girl—” he jabbed the barrel of his rifle toward Ellie— “just waltzes in here? It’s a trick, Ty. A fucking trick.”

Ty pivoted fully now, gun raised but no longer on Ellie—her fury leveled on him instead. “Or maybe you’re too blind to see it. Maybe this is the one thing that makes all that loss mean something.”

Their voices climbed higher, the air between them stretched taut, neither backing down. Kill her. Take her back. Kill her. Take her back.

Ellie’s pulse thundered in her ears, the shouting muffled under the sound of her own ragged breath. This was it—her opening. Her fingers twitched toward the waistband of her jeans where Joel’s pistol still rested, the steel cool against her damp skin.

In one motion she drew, arm snapping up, the weight of the gun steady in her hands. Before Cam even registered the shift, Ellie pulled the trigger.

The crack echoed like a lightning strike in the cavernous theater.

Cam’s head snapped back, red blooming out across the wall behind him. His body hit the ground with a thud that rattled through Ellie’s bones.

Ty froze. For a split second, her eyes went wide, shock hollowing them out. Then rage ignited. She turned on Ellie, finger jerking against the trigger… but Ellie was already moving. She dropped low, boots skidding against wet concrete as the bullet shrieked past overhead. Heart pounding, she bolted for the exit, breath tearing at her lungs.

Bullets hissed past, splintering wood and tearing fabric as Ellie dove behind the thick velvet curtain. Her shoulder slammed into a stack of broken stage crates, sending up a puff of dust that stung her eyes. She pressed her back against the splintered wood, sucking in a breath that tasted like rust and mildew.

The heavy stomp of boots followed, Ty’s voice cracking through the dark like a whip.
“Come out now, you bitch! Make it easy on yourself!”

Ellie’s grip on the pistol was slick with sweat, her pulse hammering through her palms. She leaned out just enough to snap back, her voice sharp and raw: “Fuck off!”

The report of her gun echoed as she fired blindly toward the sound. The shot cracked through the gloom, wood splintering inches from Ty as the woman ducked behind a toppled lighting rig.

The answer came immediately—Ty’s rifle barked, sparks spitting from the catwalk above Ellie’s head. Metal shrieked as rounds chewed through old scaffolding. Ellie dropped low, rolling behind another crate as fragments of wood peppered her jacket.

Both women were pinned in the wreckage, the ruined stage now a battlefield of shadows and debris. The smell of gunpowder mixed with damp velvet filled the air, every breath sharp and ragged.

Ellie gritted her teeth, shifting to the next cover, the edges of her mind screaming to stay calm, to keep moving. Ty’s boots scraped across the stage, closing the distance. Neither of them willing to give an inch, both waiting for the other to slip.

The standoff broke in a thunderclap of gunfire. Ellie darted from cover, pistol barking, forcing Ty lower behind a tower of sandbags left over from some half-forgotten production. Ty answered with a sharp burst, the crack of her rifle splitting the air—then silence. A hollow click.

Her magazine was empty.

Ellie’s heart leapt. Now. She surged forward, teeth gritted, pistol raised. But Ty was faster than her empty weapon should’ve allowed—snatching up a splintered wooden plank from the wreckage at her feet.

The world slammed out of her lungs as the board drove into her stomach. Air exploded from Ellie’s chest, her pistol skittering across the stage as she collapsed to one knee, gagging. The second swing came high, whistling toward her head, but Ellie rolled hard to the side, the plank shattering against the crate where her skull had been a heartbeat before.

“Gonna bleed you out slow!” Ty snarled, face twisted with rage.

Ellie didn’t answer—she couldn’t. Her body moved on instinct, legs coiling, tackling Ty’s midsection. The two of them hit the floorboards with a bone-jarring thud, fists flying wild. Ty’s elbow smashed into Ellie’s cheek, white sparks flaring in her vision, but Ellie clawed back, fingers hooking Ty’s jacket to keep her close.

A wild punch opened Ellie’s lip. Blood filled her mouth, copper hot and slick, but she bit down and shoved back, smashing her forehead into Ty’s nose. The crack was wet, brutal, Ty howling as blood gushed down her face.

Ellie’s hand shot down to her pocket, fingers closing around the hilt of her knife. She tore it free, the familiar weight burning into her palm like salvation. Ty saw it too, eyes going wide with a flash of raw panic.

“Fuckin’—” Ty’s words cut short as she wrenched Ellie’s wrist, the knife tip jerking inches from her throat. They rolled, locked together, boots and fists slamming into the ruined stage. Ellie drove her knee up, connecting with Ty’s ribs. Ty grunted but didn’t let go, her strength fueled by desperation.

The knife quivered between them, its point glinting in the dim light, suspended in the trembling air between Ellie’s determination and Ty’s resistance. Their ragged breaths filled the silence, broken only by the scrape of boots and the low groan of strained floorboards.

Ellie snarled, her muscles screaming as she shoved, inch by inch, trying to drive the blade home. Ty’s teeth were bared, her breath hot and ragged in Ellie’s face as the two of them strained against each other, neither willing to give.

Then Ty twisted, catching Ellie across the jaw with a fist. Stars burst in Ellie’s vision, the knife slipping sideways. She swung back blindly, knuckles connecting with Ty’s cheekbone. The two of them rolled, tangled, fists and elbows flying in a blur of rage and desperation.

The old wood beneath them groaned.

At first it was faint, lost under the thuds of fists and the scuffle of boots, but it grew louder, sharper. A deep, splintering crack.

Ellie barely had time to register it.

The stage floor gave way beneath them.

The sound was deafening—wood screaming as it tore apart, nails snapping free like gunshots. Both women plunged downward, gravity ripping them apart mid-grapple. Ellie’s stomach lurched as the world vanished beneath her, dust and broken planks tumbling with her.

She hit hard. The basement floor rushed up and slammed into her side, the impact knocking every last breath from her chest in a brutal whoomph. Pain radiated through her ribs as she rolled over the concrete, wood splinters biting into her arms. Her knife clattered away into the shadows.

A groan pulled her attention—Ty, sprawled a few feet away. She’d landed on her back, one arm twisted awkwardly beneath her, breath coming in sharp, pained gasps. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, the basement filling with a choking haze of dust, the smell of rotting wood and mildew thick in the air.

Ellie pushed up on her elbows, every bone in her body protesting. Her ears rang from the fall, vision blurred by pain and the grit stinging her eyes. She coughed, forcing air back into her lungs, and blinked until Ty’s silhouette sharpened through the haze.

Ty was already moving.

She rolled to her knees with a guttural snarl, blood dripping from her nose, eyes blazing through the dim light. Her fingers scrabbled across the debris-strewn floor, searching for anything—anything to use as a weapon.

Ellie staggered upright too, chest heaving, dust coating her hair and skin. She swallowed the taste of blood, eyes darting to where her knife had vanished into the rubble. Her body screamed at her to stop, but adrenaline roared louder, propelling her forward.

They were both still in it. Hurt, broken, but not finished.

They came together like wolves colliding, boots skidding on the broken concrete as their bodies slammed into each other. Ellie swung first, fist connecting with Ty’s jaw with a meaty crack. Ty staggered but retaliated instantly, driving a knee into Ellie’s gut. Air rushed out of her in a choked grunt, her ribs screaming as she doubled. Ty’s hands seized her by the shirt, hurling her down against the floor with a brutal thud.

Before Ellie could scramble back, Ty was on her—knees pinning her arms, hands clamping down on her throat.

Ellie’s world shrank to the pressure. Fingers digging into her windpipe, the sour stink of blood and sweat dripping onto her face. She clawed and kicked, nails scraping uselessly against Ty’s arm. Her lungs burned, vision tunneling at the edges as black spots bloomed across her sight.

And in that haze came flashes—Dina’s laugh, her hand pressed to Ellie’s, the smell of Jackson’s grass in the summer sun, Joel’s voice calling her. All of it flickering behind her eyes as oxygen slipped away, as the world dimmed.

Then—

A shout.

Not Ty’s. Not Ellie’s.

The voice cut jagged through the haze.

Ellie blinked in shock as Ty’s head snapped toward the sound—just in time for a blur to crash into her side.

Dina.

She was pale, shaking, blood still seeping through her bandages, but she’d come anyway—Ellie’s knife clenched tight in her hand. With a cry ripped straight from her gut, she tackled Ty off Ellie, both of them slamming hard into the rubble. Dina raised the blade high and tried to drive it down, the point aimed for Ty’s throat.

But Ty’s reflexes were fast, even dazed. Her hand shot up, catching Dina’s wrist mid-swing. They strained, inches from death, the blade trembling above Ty’s chest. With a guttural snarl, Ty’s other hand darted out and found Dina’s bandaged leg. Fingers dug mercilessly into the arrow wound.

Dina screamed, the knife jerking dangerously. Pain buckled her body, her strength faltering. Ty surged upward, seizing the opening, and with a vicious crack of her elbow, smashed Dina across the face. The blow sent her crumpling to the ground, the knife clattering free.

Ellie was up now.

Every muscle screamed, but she moved anyway, snatching her pistol from the rubble, hands trembling as she leveled it.

Ty had Dina by the hair, dragging her upright, the knife now reversed in her hand and pressed to Dina’s throat. Blood streamed from Dina’s split lip, her eyes closed.

Ty’s chest heaved, her voice a harsh rasp.

“Drop the gun, or I open her up right here.”

Ty’s chest rose and fell in jagged bursts, sweat and blood streaking her face. The knife trembled against Dina’s throat, but her grip never faltered. A dark bead of red slid down Dina’s skin, cutting a thin line toward her collarbone.

Ellie’s stomach dropped. Her hand shook around the pistol, her heart hammering so violently it made the barrel wobble. Slowly, carefully, she lowered the gun until it pointed at the floor, keeping her eyes locked on Ty.

“Stop,” Ellie rasped, her voice rough with desperation. “It’s me you want. Let her go.”

Ty’s gaze flicked to her but didn’t soften. The knife pressed harder, Dina’s wince twisting Ellie’s insides to shreds.

“Please,” Ellie tried again, her voice breaking. She raised her free hand, palm out. “I’ll go with you. Wherever the fuck you want. Just—leave her out of this.”

The basement stank of mildew and blood, and in that silence Ellie’s words seemed to hang heavy, trembling in the stale air.

But Ty’s eyes were lit with something wild—anger, fear, obsession—and the knife only bit deeper. More blood welled against Dina’s skin, slipping over the curve of her throat.

Ellie’s breath hitched. She felt her knees give, the strength draining out of her like a snapped thread. The gun slipped lower in her grip until she let herself drop. Hard.

Her knees smacked the concrete, and she lifted her face toward Ty, tears burning unshed in her eyes.

“Please,” she whispered, the word raw. “She is pregnant.” Her hand trembled as she pressed it against her chest, voice cracking. “If you need to kill anyone, then kill me. Not her.”

The confession echoed like a gunshot.

For the first time, Ty’s mask faltered. The knife wavered, her eyes darting between Ellie on her knees and Dina bleeding in her grip.

“It’s yours?” she asked, her voice low, guttural.

Ellie nodded quickly, her whole body shaking. “Yes. It’s mine. Please—just let her go. I’ll do anything, anything you want. Just not her.”

Ty’s gaze darted between them, the knife never leaving Dina’s skin. Her lip curled like she couldn’t decide if she was furious or in awe.

“Do you even know what this means?” Ty demanded, words ragged. “This—this is exactly what Ark wanted. Don’t you get it? She’s carrying the future of the world.”

Ellie’s heart hammered. Her stomach turned cold at the words, but she didn’t move, didn’t dare.

Ty shook her head, almost to herself, tightening her grip on Dina, dragging her closer. “You’re coming with us. Both of you. She will—”

The rest of her sentence snapped off with a thundercrack.

Ty’s head snapped back, her body jolting like a puppet with its strings cut. The knife slipped from her fingers, clattering against the floor before her whole weight followed it. She hit the ground hard, eyes glassy, a neat hole between them already blooming crimson.

Ellie froze, her breath stuck in her throat.

Then, slowly, she turned her head.

Jesse stood in the half-shadow of the ruined doorway, one hand clutching the side of his bleeding head, the other still steady on the pistol he’d fired. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, but his eyes—those sharp, tired eyes—were locked on Ellie.

He was alive. Barely, but alive.

Ellie didn’t even have time to process the miracle. She lunged forward, catching Dina as her knees buckled. Ellie dropped to the ground with her, pulling her tight against her chest.

“Hey, hey—look at me,” Ellie pleaded, brushing trembling fingers across Dina’s cheek, searching frantically for the cut at her throat. It was shallow, thank god. Blood streaked her skin, but it hadn’t gone deep.

Dina blinked, dazed but now conscious, and Ellie’s heart nearly broke with the relief. She pressed her forehead to hers, whispering, “I got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Ty’s corpse lay cooling only feet away, but Ellie blocked it out, focusing only on the rise and fall of Dina’s breath against her.

Dina’s breath trembled against Ellie’s ear. “Ellie…”

Ellie pulled back just enough to see her face, terrified of what Dina might say. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Dina swallowed, her lips ghosting close to Ellie’s jaw. “I fucking hate Seattle.”

For a split second, Ellie just stared—then an incredulous laugh broke out of her, sharp and breathless. Relief bled into it, almost painful in its intensity. She pressed Dina tighter against her chest, burying her face in her hair. “Yeah,” she whispered, smiling through the sting in her throat. “Yeah, me too.”

The shuffle of boots dragged her attention up. Jesse stumbled toward them, his gait uneven, one hand pressed to the side of his head where blood leaked down his temple. His other hand still gripped the pistol, hanging heavy at his side.

“You two…” He grimaced, squinting at them. “You alright?”

Ellie shifted, rising slowly, arms locked around Dina like she’d never let her go again. She adjusted her grip, steadying Dina against her shoulder before answering. “We’re fine. We’re okay.” She searched Jesse’s face, heart hammering again. “But you—Jesus, Jesse, I thought you were dead.”

Jesse exhaled, half a laugh and half a groan, and pulled his hand away from his head just long enough to show her the wound. The bullet had grazed the side of his skull, leaving a deep, ugly cut that was still bleeding but miraculously hadn’t gone through.

“Yeah,” he muttered, wincing as he wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. “Dumb luck, I guess. Bullet had my name on it and still missed.”

He swayed a little, then steadied, lifting his free hand to point at both Ellie and Dina with a crooked grin. “Speaking of names—after all this? You better name that baby after me.”

Ellie blinked, then barked out another laugh—half shock, half hysteria—shaking her head as Dina huffed a tired, incredulous sound against her shoulder.

“You’re outta your damn mind,” Ellie said, but the smile tugging at her lips was real this time.

Jesse smirked weakly at Ellie’s laugh, then coughed, spitting a little blood into the corner of the room. “Nah,” he rasped, his grin pulling tighter despite the way his knees wobbled. “I’m just dying of blood loss. No big deal.”

Dina hissed, clutching at her side as the adrenaline began to drain from her system, leaving only raw pain in its wake. Her hand pressed hard against the bandage that was already soaked through. She leaned heavier into Ellie but still turned her head toward Jesse, sharp even through the fatigue. “Shut up, idiot. I’ll check you once we get upstairs.”

Jesse gave her a mock salute with the pistol, though his hand shook, and his smirk faltered as another wave of dizziness made him stumble. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ellie’s throat tightened. “C’mon,” she urged, adjusting Dina against her shoulder, then reaching out to catch Jesse’s arm when he swayed again. “We’re not staying down here.”

No one argued.

Every groan, every hiss of pain echoed in the cracked silence as the three of them staggered toward the collapsed stairs that led back up to the main floor. Jesse’s boots scuffed against the debris, his breathing harsh, while Dina bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood just to keep moving. Ellie kept herself in the middle, her body straining under the weight of both of them, but she refused to let go.

The theater’s bones groaned above them, old wood shifting as if the whole place had witnessed enough. At the top of the stairs, dim light seeped through broken windows, and the faint neon glow of the sign outside flickered red across the cracked floorboards.

By the time they reached the landing, Ellie’s chest was on fire, her arms aching, but she didn’t stop until she’d gotten them both to the safety of the main hall. Only then did she allow herself a breath, steady and ragged, her eyes darting between Jesse’s pale face and Dina’s trembling frame.

They were alive. Bloodied, battered, but alive.

Ellie tightened her grip on Dina, glancing at Jesse with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “Upstairs,” she muttered. “We patch up. Then we leave this fucking city behind.”

And with nothing more said, they pushed deeper into the theater’s shadowed halls.

Notes:

I’m in the medical field. I work in the emergency room and it has been busy as of late so I haven’t had time to write due to the fact I have been working OT

You guys gotta remember that I am a person. I have a life and job. I’m just doing this for fun.

Sorry it’s short.