Steve and Bruce drive us hard. They're determined to catch up with the runners. When we're not running, we're jogging. When we're not doing that, we're falling down with exhaustion. But even the rests aren't long. Three, four hours of sleep, max. It gets everyone on edge. Nobody can even talk to Natasha anymore. Not since Tony tried it and nearly got stabbed with her hunting knife.
So we don't talk, but Natasha and I still take turns climbing trees every day. Trying to see if we've gained any ground on the runners. But every day we see nothing. Just the highway, stretching into the distance.
Once or twice Tony tries to hot-wire a car for us. But even when it works, we don't get anywhere. All the cars we come across were drained of gas long ago.
After a couple of days, we all realize we need to keep our spirits up. So we start telling each other stories.
We take turns. I talk about visiting Dallas. How I was trapped in a parking garage for a couple of days before I found a truck that would start. Bruce talks about a summer job he had at a particle accelerator. The science talk is confusing, but we all let him go on. Only Natasha ever refuses to tell a story. And no one argues with her.
But it's Coulson's stories that we all can't wait to get to. He knows how to make things exciting. How to distract us from the pain in our legs and the cramps in our sides. He talks about his life at home. Enlisting in the army. Serving with Steve in the war.
He never talks about the outbreak. I think we're all thankful for that.
Whenever we stop at night, we stay up a little later to hear Coulson tell a scary story from his childhood. They're the kind of things Boy Scouts tell each other while flashlights shine up from below their faces. They're spooky and funny and none of them involve zombies.
After a couple of days of this, we all want Coulson for company. But it's Thor who runs beside him the most. Tony likes to point out that it's a strange pair: the one who talks most and the one who talks least.
Tony: "I mean, I get that he's cute and tiny, but really. You're kinda leaving the rest of us out."
We're sitting around the fire one night. Steve wants us to move again in two hours. Coulson, Bruce, and Natasha are asleep. The rest of us stare into the flames.
Steve: "It's not like he ignores the rest of us. He's just protective. Right, big guy?"
Thor: "True."
Tony: "Why? When did you go all Blind Side on us?"
Steve: "Seriously? You're gonna ask why someone likes to protect his teammates?"
Tony shrugs.
Tony: "You got a more interesting question, be my guest. I'm tired. Sue me if I can't quip like I used to."
Steve rolls his eyes. The firelight makes it look weird.
Tony: "Come on, Point Break. Say something deep. Big guy like you, you strike me as more the standoffish type. But you're just a big teddy bear, huh? How's that? When did you get so cuddly around the little guys like us?"
Thor doesn't hesitate.
Thor: "When I failed to save my brother."
Nobody talks for a while. Tony clears his throat.
Tony: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
Thor: "I know. I am sorry to bring up something like that. But I have been thinking about this as well. And I believe that is the reason."
Me: "You couldn't save him. So you try to save everyone else."
Thor: "Yes. That will always be my biggest regret. Escaping that house when he could not. Now that I have you all, I will protect you with my life. I will not let go of this new family so easily. But Coulson is different. He reminds me of him."
Steve: "In what way?"
Thor: "They...share the same spirit. The same determination. Like my brother, Coulson is not in charge. But he has a good mind, and he is not afraid to make himself heard. Perhaps that is why I am so attached to him."
He wraps his arms around his knees. He looks small. That doesn't happen often. But he looks small now. Like a kid.
Thor: "Perhaps by protecting this family, I can make up for failing the last one."
Steve: "You know nobody blames you for what happened."
Me: "Everyone's lost someone."
As I say it, I wonder if it's true. Did I really lose anyone? Parents have been dead for years. No idea where my brother ran off to.
Guess there was nobody for me to lose by the time the outbreak happened.
Thor: "That does not stop me from blaming myself."
He turns to Tony.
Thor: "Is that deep enough for you?"
Tony clears his throat. He looks shocked, still.
Tony: "Yeah. Plenty. Think I cried a little bit."
Thor laughs.
Thor: "I am glad I could help, metal man."
Tony: "Metal man? What, this?"
He holds up the glove. He's still been working on it. Ever since we met the siblings. He's been trying to get it to shoot straight. So far it still hasn't worked.
Tony: "I would hardly call this an achievement worthy of a nickname. Maybe someday."
After that, everyone gets quiet and falls asleep. Everyone but Steve, who stays on watch and wakes us after what seems like seconds.
Every time we wake up, he reminds us of what we're facing. Each day we don't see the runners means another day they could have reached Baton Rouge.
Nobody wants to say the obvious. We're people racing against zombies that don't tire or need sleep. We're already too far behind. We won't make it in time.
We keep climbing trees, but we will never see the runners.
That's not to say we don't see any zombies at all. As we move closer to ground zero, the number of regular walkers increases all the time. We see them on the sides of the road, shambling in and out of shattered storefronts or wandering down an exit. A few of them cross our paths. Steve assigns Thor and me the task of taking those out. Better to hit them with an arrow or hammer than waste bullets.
The task is good for me. Gives me something to do. Makes me feel like I belong. Even though retrieving the arrows means I have to run more than anyone else to catch up. I'm grateful that Steve's found a way to make me useful.
Bruce said it would take at least five days to get to ground zero. Every day he notes our progress on the map. Every day the lines on his forehead get deeper.
After three days—or maybe four, I lose track—we run out of supplies. Supplies meaning granola bars and water. Which isn't good for people about to assault a group of runners. Steve makes the call for a pit stop. Nobody argues.
We could all use a break. Even if we can't afford it.
