Chapter Text
Harry takes a slow drag off his cigarette.
“Shit.”
All of this had been building for some time now and he’d been too damn busy keeping his eyes averted to notice how deep in he’d really gotten. It wasn’t until after his shitty boss had walked away with the key- until he saw those damn things emerge from the dark- until he saw one of them eat someone alive- that he realized how truly fucked he was.
He’s almost too busy feeling sorry for himself when he spots a figure emerging from the building. His first thought is Gideon but the build and body language is all wrong. Before he can get a better look they’re obscured by the fence. He waits. Soon they’ll realize the gate is locked and the only path leads to him.
It doesn’t take long, barely a minute before he sees the figure head for him- for the helicopter. Harry squints trying to make them out, the movements are a bit awkward… but not jerky in the way he’s seen from those things. They are also carrying something. Maybe... just maybe.
“Hey!” he exits the helicopter hoping he’s not making another mistake, “Stay right there.” He can hear shuffling on the other side. When he turns the corner he sees something unexpected- it’s not just one person- but two. It’s not something being carried but someone- a child.
The white lady can’t be much older than twenty. Her shirt and jeans fit neither the bill for patient nor staff. The only real indicator any which way is her shoulder dressed in a bloodied bandage.
She stops advancing, hurriedly putting the child down.
“I-it’s okay, w-were not infected…” She looks down, eyes not visible. He keeps his distance just to be safe. Eyes flitting between the two.
“So you’re normal?”
“I uh… I-I think so.” She makes brief eye contact, her scleras aren’t that angry red he’s grown familiar over the past hours and besides that this was a direct response… not a repeat of what she’d just said or a gurgling cry but-
“Thank fuck.”
Harry nearly collapses with relief right then and there. The rest of their conversation feels like a blur from convincing her he’s not a threat to the realization that this is his way out. Then comes the laughable question of if he’s lying to her. The option to lie is a luxury. The offer to look after the kid seems to finally be enough to push her over the edge, he’s never been so happy to hear the words ‘it’s a deal’.
He lets them have their moment, keeping watch as Grace reassures Emily and gives him her thanks before cautiously entering the warmly lit house. She’s survived the inside of the care center he reasons, that’s gotta mean she can make it through that house. At least that’s what he hopes.
So not much to do but sit back down in the Huey, strap in and wait. The kid- Emily- is quiet and he supposes she’s trying to sleep so no point in disturbing her. That is until he hears a low growl.
At first he looks around, panic digging into him- what if those things are back? But there’s nothing- no rain, no angry red eyes, no shuffling sounds, no mutters. It’s only then he realizes it’s coming from her stomach.
Oh...
She’s hungry.
He almost feels like laughing. But instead he reaches into the document bin, and there, beside the paper and pen that almost definitely doesn’t work he finds the energy bar he’d stowed away for later.
“Hey kid, you’re not allergic to anything, are you?” He tries to soften his voice a little, considering what she must have been through.
“Huh…? Um... no.”
“Good, here.” He tosses her the energy bar but she just kinda… holds out her hands like she’s about to take a shot but otherwise just sits there, not really reacting until it hits her square on the chin. She lets out a surprised ‘bwuh’. There’s no way it’s dark enough that she can’t see it… not unless she can’t see. Their previous interactions play in his head combined with the fact that she came from a chronic care center. He feels like an idiot, “Sorry, thought you’d catch it.” He hopes he doesn’t come off as even more of an asshole, “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“I’m fine.” She picks it up, brushing her fingers over the energy bar for a moment as if looking for something.
“It’s not poison, you know I was gonna eat it.”
“Oh.” She then finally opens it, snaps off a piece and starts eating. It’s too dark to see her expression, but she seems to like it at least. Then she holds out the bar back to him.
“Done already?”
“You said you were gonna eat it.”
“Nah, you can have the rest. I had a big dinner.” Plus he’s pretty sure that if he eats anything now he’s gonna throw it right back up the next time he sees a zombie.
“Oh! Okay.” It’s almost fascinating to watch how she practically inhales it. If it wasn’t for the need to watch out for infected as Grace dubbed them he’d be staring with a raised eyebrow. Once she’s done with it she seems a bit unsure what to do with it, and holds it back out. He takes it and puts it back where it came from, he does not have enough shits left to give about dirtying Victor’s helicopter.
“How’d you wind up here anyways?”
“Grace carried me.” No shit.
“I meant how you wound up at Rhodes Hill.”
“Oh, I’ve always been in my room.” She says easily. Somehow that’s more concerning than every other answer he’d assumed and the way she says it makes it sound like the most normal thing in the world.
“What’s your room like?”
“It’s not scary.” She begins, pausing for a moment before continuing, “It’s bigger than here but smaller than the other places. It’s also really quiet. I always have a book to read.” Her voice wavers a little, “I miss my books.”
“Hey, I’m sure Grace will find you another book.” He tries, not wanting to make a child cry.
“You think so?”
“If she doesn’t I will.” It slips out before he can take it back. He should have just said something like ‘of course she will’. But that old phrase just slips out, at least it seems to make Emily happy.
“Thank you.” He’s always been weak for his nieces and somehow Emily manages to tug those exact heartstrings. And god damn it now he has to. What a hole he’s dug himself into. At least that’s another reason to make it out of this. Some part of him in the back of his head says maybe after this is over Emily could meet his nieces, maybe they’d be friends. He buries that part quickly though and looks back out the window.
Anywhere else and this would be a quiet night. In fact technically it is right now, it’s his mind that fills it with noise. Just the knowledge of what lurks in those woods- in that care center is enough to make every rustle of leaves seem like the beating of drums. Then again, it might be wiser to say anyone else. Harry is well aware that the only difference between this night and every other is right now his worry is justified, right now it’s not unreasonable and caused by his past projected onto the present.
Any other night he’d just be feeling off kilter, unable to sleep, filling that time with work, chores, anything to occupy his mind. There’s a reason he takes the night shifts despite the additional work and risks, risks that don’t include being eaten alive that is.
What happens if Grace is surrounded? If his shitty boss finds her? Hell- he didn’t even warn her about him. If she dies down there, what then? What if Gideon still has the key, if he returns? Actually it’s not much different than before. He can’t run, can’t climb over those fences. Hiding is his best option. Emily can be quiet at least but he knows for a fact that he can’t carry her.
Those things probably wouldn’t spot them if they hid in the bushes or crouched down inside the airplane but that’s no guarantee. The courtyard is small, everywhere else dangerous. If Gideon returns he will spot them. Former training has instilled the bone deep knowledge that even what feels like a good spot can be perfectly clear from the right angle. Besides that he’s pretty sure Gideon's goggles have a heat cam or some kind of analyzer meaning that even if he were perfectly hidden his body heat would be a dead giveaway.
The best option if he turns up is to act like normal, if he’s lucky his bastard of a boss will find it amusing. Emily being here could put them both in danger though, and a half baked plan is better than no plan.
“Hey, kid?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s an empty spot under the chairs you can probably feel, if I say hide I need you to-”
The warm light turns a deep red and if he focuses he can hear alarms in the distance. He’d truly appreciate it if that was all but no…
Something moves in his peripheral… a lot of somethings. Emily might not be able to see but she can most definitely hear the cracking of branches and shambling movement. “Is that Grace?” Emily pipes up sounding worried.
“I-”
The sound of two gunshots ring out, “Yeah, yeah I think that’s her.” He turns to look at where the sound of the gunshots came from and is greeted by Grace running while looking like her name is Carrie.
“You get it!?” His tone is etched with a sort of dread and hurry as he watches more and more of the infected approach the fences, clawing at them, pushing.
“Yeah.” She hands over the keys, running to the side as he closes the door.
“Good.” The weight of those keys in his hand should give him any kind of sense of relief but all there is now is bone deep terror coupled with the knowledge that the helicopter needs time to start up, time they don’t have. Not when the infected are gathering against the fences, pushing pushing pushing. Not when Grace has only just entered the helicopter, not when he’s only just turned the key.
Not when those things have just broken through.
“What the fuck did you do?”
Harry focuses on strapping himself in, getting ready, making all the check is that are familiar while Grace moves back to reassure Emily. The blades start to turn but he knows it’ll take time. How many of those things are there? Twenty? Fifty? He doesn’t know, what he does know is that he’s gonna need a copilot.
A zombie bangs against the window, them two, then three and then they’re crawling onto the helicopter. Harry is just stuck sitting willing the helicopter to start up faster, trying to ignore the infected banging its head against the window.
“Come on!” Grace’s voice beside him is not helping.
“What’s it look like I’m doing!?” He yells back as Emily starts screaming in the back, the sound weaving together with the spinning rotor blades and growls only muffled by a glass pane.
“Hurry! Hurry!” Grace yells again.
“No shit!” If he could lift the damn thing with his mind he would have already. The glass in front of him begins to crack, “Get your gun!” To Grace’s credit she doesn’t question him, grabbing it with shaking hands and reloading it.
“Hold tight, I’m taking off!” The helicopter lifts but only a few of the things fall off, the majority holding on, clinging even as they rise in the air. Harry may know how to pilot damn well, but no one ever trained him for doing so while a dozen zombies are stuck to the window.
His and Grace’s screams weave together as the cracks grow and grow until it breaks. It’s like staring death in the eye, a pale hand reaching out, those yellow and red eyes. All he can compare it to is seeing an animal with rabies and how it twists itself and breaks itself reshaped into a form only made to spread the sickness.
He has to let go of steering to push its head away, desperate not to be torn apart. Just as the helicopter starts to tip down, Grace is at his side. A shot rings out, loud enough to almost deafen him, then another and another as more zombies find their way to the weak point. It lands boneless in the window and he doesn’t have time to push it out- not when the helicopter screams against the roof. The zombies may have all fallen off with that but the damage sustained is too much. There’s no way they’re getting back into the air.
He tries desperately to turn the helicopter- to do anything that will increase the likelihood of their survival even as he knows what’s coming. All he can do is brace himself as the roof before them dips, time slows down for long enough for every regret he’s had come to the forefront of his mind. If the previous hour was the chance to experience a prolonged death once more then this would be its opposite.
There’s the fall, the impact, and then there’s nothing.