Emma had waited too long to move off the open road. She saw that now, as she walked down an eerily empty main street in the gloom of dusk. She'd considered continuing through the night, but knew she was too tired to stay alert in the dark. This whistle stop town was only slightly out of her way.
Her sweat soaked shirt clung uncomfortably to her back. It had for hours but she hadn't dared shed the protection of her leather jacket. The strap of her small messenger bag dug into her shoulder. She'd over-tightened it, afraid she couldn't retrieve ammunition fast enough if it was loose.
She gripped a Glock in each hand. One gun she'd brought from Storybrooke, the other she'd stolen off a body her first day on foot. The bug was trapped amongst other cars somewhere south. She missed it. Especially when it got dark.
A two-story house caught her attention. A section of roof stuck out just below the upstairs windows. It would be a fast and safe exit in the morning.
The glass panel by the front door broke easily with a rock. Emma thought she heard the sound echo down the street and hoped she had only imagined it. She snuck inside and pulled the door shut, re-locking it quickly just in case.
She paused inside the door, aiming a gun through the room. She listened for movement as her gaze swept through the buzzing silence. When nothing stirred she stepped carefully through to the kitchen.
With her gun aimed at the doorway she looked to the back door. Locked. Good. An ax leaned against the wall next to it. Emma made a mental note to take it with. A ripe smell drifted from the fridge. It had been without power for too long to look inside.
Her stomach twisted painfully. She hadn't noticed the hunger while walking. Dizziness washed over her and she braced herself against the counter with one arm. She lowered the gun, unable to keep it steady, and shuffled over to the slatted pantry door.
Only one shelf was still stocked. Her eyes were drawn past the pasta boxes to a half empty case of bottled water. She set the gun down on the nearby counter so she could pry some of the bottles out. As she shoveled them into her bag she cursed their weight, unable to carry them all.
Emma glanced to the doorway before heading for the ax. She picked up the tool and turned the handle over in her hands. It looked unused. Emma wondered if it had been bought at the start of the outbreak. When most people still thought it would resolve itself quickly.
A memory flashed through her mind. Henry running down to breakfast with an unbelievable story he'd seen online. She remembered her horror when she realized it was true. The knot in her stomach when she realized that she could, or had to, try to help. Mostly, she remembered Regina's hug when she begged Emma not to go.
A creak in the floorboards behind her snapped her out of her thoughts. A chill ran up her spine.
She spun towards the noise just as a red-eyed woman lunged towards her with a hungry growl. Emma stumbled backwards, barely enough time to lift the ax above her head.
She swung the weapon down with all of her petrified strength. The ax sunk into the woman's skull with a sickening crack. For a second she seemed to keep walking. Emma quickly realized the body was falling towards her. She sidestepped out of the way and pulled her second gun from her hip.
She steadied her breath as she waited for the next attack. A painfully silent minute passed. No one else appeared. She raised her foot over the back of the ax and pushed it further into the woman's head. Just in case. Blood oozed from beneath the blade and pooled onto the tile.
Emma stepped carefully over the mess, her gun still aimed at the kitchen doorway. The floor creaked again as she walked slowly back to the counter. Still no sounds of movement. She grabbed her gun and bolted for the stairs.
She used the last of her day's strength to push the dresser in front of the master bedroom door. She'd only had enough light to check the one room for tenants and didn't feel safe with just a lock. She knew she couldn't stay awake for long and would need a warning noise.
The soft cradle of the queen bed was a welcome comfort. Emma set the loaded guns within easy reach on the nightstand. The last of her granola bars had found their way to the bottom of her bag. They had warmed on her walk and now stuck to their wrappers. After finding no food in the kitchen she was glad to have them. With her heart still pounding, she consumed her feast in the dark.
Bo ran through the crisp chill of dawn. The gravel path beneath her boots crunched with each step. Please be ready, she thought as she headed for the waiting barn.
She could hear the pack behind her. Their growls echoed off the side of the house as she led them past. The creatures didn't run, and they weren't very bright, but they were persistent. And they seemed to stumble much faster when they caught the scent of food.
She glanced over her shoulder. Only six. The packs were getting smaller. It was still an intimidating sight. The way they rushed desperately forward, dried blood from past kills smeared across their faces. Festering wounds on necks and arms marked the bites that had doomed them.
Bo let out a sigh of relief when she reached her destination. She pushed the tall doors open, skidding to a stop to turn and push them loosely closed again.
She sprinted across the open floor of the building and leapt across a large patch of straw on her way. At the other end she jumped again, this time onto a waiting ladder. She climbed up to the loft.
"You took your time." Tamsin grumbled as she helped Bo pull the ladder out of sight.
"Impatient much?" Bo shot back. She did so as a courtesy. She'd noticed Tamsin's own look of reassurance when Bo returned to the loft. She could see the worry still clinging to her face. She wouldn't make Tamsin admit to either.
Tamsin walked over to her waiting rifle and took a knee. She aimed towards the barn doors. Her body looked frozen in the silence around them. Bo was struck by the way Tamsin's hair framed her determined gaze.
She was pulled from her observation by a familiar crunch of gravel. She picked up the second waiting gun and matched Tamsin's stance.
The doors burst open. Decaying bodies jostled against each other while trying to be the first inside. They stumbled forward, walking into the heart of the barn. They reached the patch of straw as a group.
The thatching gave way under their feet, sending all but one tumbling into the waiting pit below. The zombie left standing on the edge looked up at the loft. His hair was greasy and matted, his clothes torn to reveal unnoticed wounds. He bared his teeth and a low growl escaped through them.
Tamsin fired her weapon. The creature's head snapped back as the bullet plunged through his forehead. The rest of his body followed the momentum and fell backwards to the dirt.
Tamsin shifted her aim to the pit. The zombies were tall enough to escape, but the fall had confused them. A soccer mom with a broken arm tried to pull herself out. The flesh around the break tore further as she clung to the crumbling edge. Tamsin fired at the woman's temple. Blood and fragments sprayed across the others.
They didn't seem to notice the mess, but the gunshot refocused them. They looked up at Bo and Tamsin's perch. The movement raised the hair on Bo's arms.
"Nothing like some zombie killing in the morning." Tamsin declared with a smile. She reloaded her rifle.
"You might be a bad influence on me." Bo pondered out loud. She fired at one of the creatures. The body dropped to the ground beside the others. This was getting more fun every day. And she was getting really good.
"No one influences you." Tamsin defended. Bo fired her second shot before turning to smile in agreement. Tamsin didn't see it. She was already focused on her final targets.
With their rifles slung across their backs, Bo and Tamsin continued their journey east. The plan had always been to find survivors and get them to safety. Six weeks into the crisis, most people had found a safe zone or perished on the way there. Bo and Tamsin had taken to hunting the creatures to combat boredom.
Though, as the number of survivors dwindled, so did their zombie encounters. And so did their hope of finding a cure. Bo wondered sometimes if they kept moving the search to find helpless humans, or if it was simply to avoid going home. They had promised to find a way to save everyone. They were trying to be the heroes. They were no closer than the day they left.
The past few days had felt especially quiet. Bo almost didn't believe her eyes when she saw a figure in the distance.
"Do you see that?" She asked. Tamsin was looking to the horizon as well, but she didn't answer. When they got closer Bo raised her rifle and peered through the scope. The figure's determined strides were clearly human. If they hurried, they could intercept whoever it was.
Emma turned to check behind her. She'd been on the road for a few hours now, and hadn't run into another soul. She was overdue for a sighting. She scanned her surroundings, checking the horizon for signs of danger.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw two blurry figures ahead, down a road to her left. She couldn't tell if they were moving towards her or away. She kept walking, her eyes trained on them.
In under an hour, they were close enough for Emma to see they didn't have the lurching walk of the infected. She was still wary of their approach. She pulled one of her guns from its holster.
Bo knew the woman had spotted them. She had picked up her pace, and by the time Bo and Tamsin reached the highway she was 100 yards ahead. They gave her space at first, wary of the handgun.
The highway was empty. Surrounded by low fields, Bo could see they were the only ones for miles. As they got closer it felt awkward just following the blonde. But she wasn't stopping.
"Hey!" Bo called to her.
Emma paused when she heard the woman's voice. This encounter was inevitable. She turned towards the women. They seemed harmless, but it was strange to see them so far from a city. She had run into trouble with plenty of humans on her journey. As they got close enough to talk, she aimed her gun at them.
"I don't want any trouble." She tried to keep her tone steady, but her nerves shone through.
"We're just seeing if you need help." Bo assured her.
"She's seeing if you need help." Tamsin clarified. "And we're not the ones pointing the gun."
"Where I'm from that doesn't mean much." Emma countered. Something about the way she said it caught Bo's attention.
"I'm Bo." She offered. "This is Tamsin."
"You know, the safe zone is the other way." Tamsin added.
"Maybe I'm not going to the safe zone." Emma said.
But it's… so safe. Tamsin thought. She didn't trust the woman's answer. Especially with her gun pointed at Bo.
"If you're not going to the safe zone, where are you going?" Bo asked for her.
Emma hesitated. She wasn't sure she should tell them. But there was something about the pair. The way Tamsin's look of suspicion turned to one of tenderness when she looked at Bo. The way Bo seemed to subconsciously move her arm to shield Tamsin each time Emma shifted. It was sweet. She missed that. She lowered her gun.
"I'm going home. To my family." She said.
"Okay, so where is home?" Bo asked.
"I'd rather not say." Emma admitted. She started to turn away.
"Wait." Bo stopped her. She was intrigued. She understood having something to hide.
"There are a lot of those things still out there." Bo warned. "Wherever you're going, it's dangerous to go alone." Tamsin snorted with amusement at the line. Bo rolled her eyes. The wordless exchange felt familiar. It won a piece of Emma's trust.
"Look, she won't let it go, so just let us tag along for a while." Tamsin suggested.
Emma thought of the dwindling supplies in her bag. Having backup sounded nice. She still had so much further to go. It didn't hurt that Bo's look of genuine concern reminded her of Mary Margaret's. Or that she really liked their leather jackets.
"Alright." She nodded with a shy smile. She held out a hand to Bo. "I'm Emma."