No Way Out - Chapter 2
The door opens slowly and (thankfully) silently, until there's enough space for the both of them to slip out of the stockroom and into the main store. Fen takes the lead through the center of the room and Marian follows behind in his footsteps as quietly as she can, focus jumping back and forth between the walkers at either of their sides fast enough that she'd be worried about giving herself whiplash in any other situation.
One of them by the cash registers – what used to be a middle-aged man – opens its mouth and drags out a rasping breath. Its eyes are dead and dull around the edges, but in their center where the dark circles of its pupils should be there's a white-blue light, the same disturbing glow that cracks across its skin like scars. The light is muted but still bright enough to show through layers of tattered clothes, and Marian feels a shiver rush through her at the sight of it, goose bumps cropping up along her arms. More than a year since the first outbreak and they still manage to scare her shitless. They don't even look human anymore, more like some fucked up version of Frankenstein's monster gone horribly, horribly wrong. Hell, for all she or anyone else seems to know, that very well could be exactly what they are.
Regardless of what the walkers are or aren't, they don't seem to take any notice of them as they pick their way slowly towards the exit, their heads turned down towards the ground while they shuffle amongst themselves. Fifteen feet, ten feet, five feet from the door, and none of them have even given so much of a twitch in their direction. By the time Fen steps over the glass still clinging to its frame, a manic little grin has started to pull at the corners of her mouth. Good to see that stroke of luck she'd been hoping for has finally decided to make an appeara—
A muffled groan and a quick flash of movement out of the corner of her eye is the only warning she gets. The overturned display of "Get Well Soon" cards at her right jerks, and she jumps near out of her skin, her mouth snapping shut instinctively on the shout she almost doesn't catch in time. She's quick, but not quick enough, and before she's able to get herself out of reach a mottled hand has shoved itself out from beneath the cardboard shelves and locked around her ankle. The walker's arm and head are there in the next second, mouth lolling open as it pushes itself forward on legs little more than mangled stumps. She feels her heart lodge itself high in her throat, eyes going wide as the card display is knocked to the side by its other arm, the cracks of blue in its skin and eyes flaring impossibly bright, like magnesium that had been set on fire.
"HAWKE!"
Fen's shout snaps her out of her stupor, her eyes clearing enough for her to see that second hand coming dangerously close to her knee while the walker starts to pull itself closer with the first, leaving a smeared trail of black blood and gore behind it. Stomach flipping upside down and turning hard as rock, her hand shoots to her hatchet as she watches the walker's jaw fall open, a mouthful of broken teeth inches away from the meat of her calf.
The hand ax comes free and swinging, and at the last second Marian closes her eyes and turns away, an arm shooting up to protect her face from anything sent flying when the blade buries itself in the walker's forehead. There's a strangled grunt, the sound of a head falling hard against the floor, and then the grip around her ankle loosens, breaking when she pulls her foot away with a firm jerk. Behind her she hears Fen stumbling through the doorway and yanks her hatchet free before turning to meet him, her arm falling away from her face.
"Are you alright?" he asks, barking the question while he looks her up and down. His machete is still up in front of him, and his face as close to white as she imagines his darker complexion can manage. "Did it – are you—" he makes a rough gesture down towards her legs with his free hand, and she swears she see him go even paler. "Have you been bitten?"
She shakes her head and feels the world spin around its edges, adrenaline still pumping hard in her veins and making her jittery. "No. No, I'm ok. Promise. See," She picks her legs up one after the other, and while there's now a nasty smelling stain on her jeans from where the walker had grabbed her, there's no sign of fresh blood or torn denim. "Nothing."
The worry lining Fen's face shifts into something better resembling irritation. His brows draw down into angry slashes, and for a moment she feels the unavoidable sense of dread of a child about to be scolded by their parent, complete with the urge to duck her head and scuff the toe of her shoe against the floor.
His mouth purses, but whatever it is he's about to say is cut off by another moan. Both of their eyes snap up, Fen's narrowing while she turns to look back over her shoulder at the other walkers still inside the store. Oblivious as they had been at the start, her run-in with their crippled friend apparently hadn't been as quiet as she hoped; arms raised and mouths open the lot of them have started making their way towards them, the light in their eyes and along their skin growing brighter with each shuffled step.
He throws out another curse beneath his breath, hand snapping to the stock of his shotgun while he shoves his machete back into its sheath. By the time Marian turns back to meet his eyes, the hard glint has come back to them in full force.
"Right," she says, reading his expression easily, hatchet already switched to her opposite hand while she pulls her pistol free with her right. "Get the hell out of Dodge first, lecture about common sense and watching where I walk later."
Shotgun now out and held between his hands, Fen nods. He's already starting to step backwards towards the door, the heel of his boot crunching down on broken glass. "Quietly as possible – we don't know how many of them are still out—"
"FEN, BEHIND YOU!"
For the span of an instant time comes to a near stand-still, the image of the walker – the damned walker he'd warned her about out on the sidewalk – coming up behind Fen's back with its eyes and skin on fire burning into the backs of her eyes. Then it lurches, kicks into high gear and fast-forwards like one of the old VHS tapes she and Bethy used to watch together in their grandparents' basement. She throws her hand out without thinking, fingers brushing against the buttons of his thermal when she tries to fist her hand in his collar to pull him away – but she isn't fast enough. Instead she watches, horror struck, as the thing's hands close around his shoulders, his eyes going wide while he's pulled backwards off his feet.
One of his arms fly out to clutch uselessly for the door. It's a last attempt to keep himself from being yanked out onto the street that only ends with him making a choked, pained noise, the shard of glass the top of his arm catches on ripped out of its frame and landing on the tiled floor, blood glinting along its edges.
A voice in the back of Marian's head yells at her to move, damn it! and she pushes herself forward, unable to see but hearing when he hits the pavement. The back of his head snaps into the ground with a crack loud enough to make her flinch, another groan tearing out of his mouth at the same time something metal skitters against the concrete; his gun falling from of his hand and out of reach. Her breath comes hard and fast, pulse pounding in her ears and feet feeling like they're weighted down with lead for all the good they're doing her – since when did running a fucking yard take so damned long?
Finally she makes it to the door, launching herself through it and nearly tripping over her own feet when she lands. Her pistol snaps up with her head, chest heaving and pieces of her hair catching in the corner of her mouth, and what she finds is nearly enough to make her freeze in her tracks. In the time it took her to get outside the walker has managed to pull him away from the door and out towards the road, already dropped down onto its knees over him. Fen is sprawled out awkwardly on top of his duffle bag, the fist of his uninjured arm wrapped around the thing's throat. His neck cords, struggling to hold it back while it tries to angle itself to bite at his wrist, its jaw snapping in his hand. Strong as he might be the walker's thrashing makes his hold hard to keep and Marian watches as his elbow starts to bend, knotted fingers coming close enough to start clawing at his chest.
BANG.
The bullet slams into its shoulder, the pistol recoiling in her hand before she fully realizes she's pulled the trigger. The walker shifts backwards from the force, head flying back and away from Fen. Her mouth thins, eyes narrowing as she lines up another shot without hesitating, because fuck whatever else might hear it.
BANG.
The thing jerks to the side at the last second and she misses, her shot pinging off the hood of a rusted out police cruiser behind it. Oh well. Too late for subtlety now anyway.
BANG BANG.
One hits just below what's left of its nose, the other so perfectly centered between its brows she knows Varric would have thrown some smart ass comment her way if he'd been here to see it.
The walker jerks, then slumps forward, eyes wide and dimming. Fen throws it off and to the side with a groan, wincing when he brings his injured arm up to cradle it against his chest. In the next second she's at his side with her hatchet stuffed back into its holster, Fen glancing up at her from beneath dark lashes as she drops down next to him.
"What happened," he asks, grunting when she bends down to drag his good arm up and over her shoulder, "to 'quietly as possible'?"
She snorts, heart still pounding while her free hand clutches at his side and she shifts her feet beneath herself. "Extenuating circumstances. Don't tell me you're actually mad that I just pulled you off the dinner menu?"
He chuckles, but the sound is cut short, his eyes screwing shut as he sucks in a sharp hiss of a breath when she drags the both of them to their feet without bothering with a warning. It takes him a minute to right himself, his hand hard on her shoulder while he sways in place, most likely dizzy from the hit he took to the back of his head. His eyes open once he's steady, only to have his expression grow stony as they flick a quick glance through the rest of the street.
"I think it's a bit early to say that much."
Marian cocks a brow at him, but when he doesn't move to return the look she follows his gaze out towards the road as well. A second later and her goose bumps return in full force, the fear that had just started to ebb away plowing back into her like an eighteen wheeler with no brakes.
"Shit."
There are walkers everywhere. Between cars, stumbling out of the alleys, even dragging themselves out from beneath the bench at a bus stop across the street, for Christ's sake. She knows without trying she'd never be able to count how many there are even if she'd cared to. But if anything is coming out loud and clear through the panic she can feel building where the bottom of her stomach has dropped away, it's that there's no way in hell they have enough bullets between them to stand their ground. Her head snaps back to look down the street they'd come up, hoping it's at least clear enough to pass...
"Shit!"
No such luck. They're completely surrounded, the circle of clear space around them shrinking by the second. Her head reels, mind racing while her eyes flit back and forth through the crowd of undead, but despite her search and a silent prayer to any divine powers who may be listening in, no opening or miracle presents itself. Desperate, she looks back towards the pharmacy, the three walkers they'd left inside now nearly to the window.
"Fen," she says without looking away from them while she tries to squash the voice in her head screaming about how this has 'bad idea' written all over it, "Can you reach your gun?"
He straightens, pulls his arm off her shoulder and she hears the bottom of his boots scrap against the sidewalk before he rushes off without a word. He's back at her side in seconds, and doesn't bother to ask for an explanation when she snatches the shotgun out of his hand and shoves the nine millimeter into his chest.
"Keep them back." She pumps the gun once, a cartridge sliding into place. "Once the path is clear, we make for the stockroom like there's a dragon breathing fire up our asses. Got it?"
She hears the hammer of the pistol click into place. "There's no need for motivators, Hawke," he says, the words coming out level but tight.
"Ok," She cradles the butt of the gun into her shoulder, wincing in anticipation of the kickback. "Here's hoping this works..."
BLAM.
The shotgun explodes in her hands, ramming back into her hard enough to make pins and needles shoot out from her collarbone and down her bicep. The pellets shred through the center of the middle walker's sternum and she catches a glimpse of the pulpy mess she's made out of its chest before it collapses onto the pharmacy floor, still sputtering but incapacitated enough. Another spike of adrenaline rushes through her, the same manic smile coming back in full force at the realization that this just might not end as terribly as she though.
"God bless whoever invented buckshot!" she yells out while the spent cartridge goes flying, the laugh that follows sounding a little deranged if she's honest with herself.
Fen replies with a round of three shots from the pistol, the metallic smell of gun smoke thick enough now to bite at the inside of her nose. "Speed would be appreciated, Hawke!" He growls over his shoulder to her before firing another round. "I only have so many bullets!"
BLAM.
"Spoilsport!"
BLAM.
The walkers left at either side of the door fall one after the other, one making a wet gurgling noise as it collapses with a hole in the center of its chest while the other's head is blown clean off its shoulders, black blood and pieces of bone splattering on the display stand behind it. Arm now completely numb, Marian swings her hand back to grab at Fen's shoulder, fingers twisting into his sleeve.
"All clear!" she shouts as she whips him around and pushes him back towards the pharmacy, shoving hard enough to nearly make him stumble. "Now move!"
He's at the entrance in seconds, jumping over the door frame at a run with his injured arm pressed close to his chest, grunting when his feet hit the floor. The walker with the mangled chest throws an arm out from where it twitches on its back, close enough to try to grab for his ankle.
BANG.
Marian reaches the door herself in time to watch the thing's arm fall limp on the floor, the light in its eyes and skin going dim while smoke floats out of the bullet hole Fen's shot has left in the middle of its forehead. In the next breath she's throwing herself into the store, landing on one foot in a puddle of blood from the now-headless walker.
"AH!"
The rubber of her sneaker slips in the mess, her foot skidding along the tile as it shoots out awkwardly to one side. The whole of her top half lurches, arms sent swinging to steady herself while her other foot comes down hard enough to send a flash of pain lancing up her calf. She feels something shift and fall away from her back as she jerks herself upright, and its only after she's steadied herself and thrown her hand back to check that she realizes Aveline's radio is gone. A fresh wave of panic drops over her like a bucket of ice water and she spins in place, aware of but ignoring the way her leg screams in protest from the sudden movement.
"Shit shit shit," she hisses when a quick glance does nothing to help her pin-point where the radio fell. Not by the door, not near any of the downed walkers, not under any of the shelves that she can see- "Shit shit shit DAMN it!"
"Hawke!"
Marian looks up at Fen's shout, whatever color was left in her face draining away when she ends up staring out into the street. The first of the horde outside has made it across the road and onto the sidewalk, the closest no more than ten feet away.
Something hard closes around the strap of her backpack and for a moment she thinks she's forgotten about another damned walker, but when her head snaps back around she's met only with a very green, very angry glare.
"God damn it, Hawke," Fen grinds out past clenched teeth, the pistol digging into her shoulder as he tightens his grip, "come on!"
"Fuck!"
He's already dragged her through most of the distance separating them from the stockroom by the time her feet can catch up. There's a crash behind them, glass cracking under multiple pairs of feet, and somewhere in the back of her head she takes note that whatever chance she'd had of finding the radio is now officially lost. Fen drops his hold of her to push the door out of their way with his good arm, turning as soon as they both make it inside to hold it shut with his shoulders. At the same time Marian shucks her pack and the shotgun off into some corner, spinning around in the next second to take hold of the closest set of shelves. Muscles protest from the effort as she hauls it towards the door, its metal shrieking against tiles while boxes of meds fall and break open on the floor, pill bottles sent scattering in every direction. Fen waits until she has it nearly in place before jumping out of the way of the impromptu brace, wasting no time in throwing his weight behind the next one and the next as well, until they've placed four sets of storage shelves between them and the walkers outside, sealing themselves in.
With no other way out.
Fuck.