Disclaimer: Zombies, Run! isn't mine.

"Hey, Ed," Sam leaned out of his booth to where Ed was installing a new range booster. "Head over to the armoury for a bit. Runner 5's got something you'll want to see."

Reluctantly, Ed packed up his tools, grabbed Molly, and headed for the armoury. It was only next door and Ed could see what Sam was talking about as soon as he stepped outside.

The gates were just closing behind a rusty-looking fire truck. Runner 5 jumped down from the driver's seat.

"You know, I didn't know until today, but it turns out I've always wanted a fire truck. What do say, Ed? Do you think you can fix it up?"

Ed gave the truck a once over. "I should say so, yeah."

"Cool. The zombies seem to love the sirens, but they hate the high power jets."

5 ruffled Molly's hair on the way by and started for the hospital for a post-run check-in.

Ed went back to comms to get his tools. There was something about 5 that he wasn't sure he liked. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. The air of levity, maybe, as if the zombie apocalypse were some sort of game.

That wasn't really it though. Runner 5 took missions very seriously, didn't flinch or complain when they were dangerous, followed orders well, worked hard, and seemed to genuinely care about the other residents at Abel. Ed hated to even mention it (and he hadn't) because everyone else seemed to think Runner 5 could walk on water.

He had thought so, too, when they first met. After all, Runner 5 was risking life and limb to save Molly at the time. But then, over time, he had become... unsure.

Ed set to work on the fire truck 5 had brought back. He'd have to ask about it later. Surely 5 and Sam would have a wild story to tell about where it had come from.

The fire truck seemed to be leaking every possible fluid from every possible system. Puddles of coolant and oil and transmission fluid were already collecting underneath it.

Ed set Molly on the ground and opened up the hood. It smelled a little like a tire fire.

"Dada!" Molly yelled to him.

"Not now, Molly."

"Dada!" she insisted. She pulled on the leg of his trousers. "Dada!"

"Dada is working, Molly."

"Ed," said a voice behind him, "do you want me to take her?"

He turned to see 5, still a bit flushed from the run, ice packs taped around both knees.

"No, we'll be fine." After a beat, he added, "Thanks, though."

"Are you sure? I can take her with me to the farm. Leave you to work in peace. She can help me feed the chickens."

Molly lit up. "Bok bok bok," she said.

"That's right," said 5, crouching down to be level with Molly, "chickens say 'bok bok'. There are even some little fluffy yellow ones now. Cheep cheep."

Molly repeated, "Cheep cheep cheep."

Ed sighed. "You want to go feed the chickens, Molly?"

She nodded.

"All right."

"You want a piggy back ride?" 5 asked. Molly nodded before being scooped up and spun around, giggling wildly. "See you in a bit, Ed."

"Yeah," he said, somewhat tenuously, "see you in a bit."