A/N post-script.
¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸
Chapter Twenty-One: Stumbled Upon
¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸
-ELLIE-
Fall was gone.
There was just white.
Winter.
It had occupied the land in a quick, silent matter. And yet its arrival was lethal. The season had proved to me that nature was impassively relentless. Nothing could stop it.
It was ruthless.
And I felt helpless. Unable to aid myself.
The small, shallow sources of freshwater had frozen over. Trees that used to bear fruit were no longer an option. Hands that were so accustomed to the heat were too numb and stiff for any sort of movement. Creating fires became a risk, and footprints were more than obvious in the snow. Clothing attires were unmistakably thin and ineffective.
Everything I had wasn't enough.
It had already been hard, to think that I could care for myself at such a grueling season of the year. That I could sleep well enough. That I could fend off the bandits and loot abandoned areas. That I could eat little and be satisfied. That I could just get by.
But having an injured companion along with you does not bode well.
His impalement was unnerving. I'd never seen Joel that vulnerable.
He needed warmth more than I did, and offering him the only sleeping bag I could find was not easy. He was immobile, and so I had resorted to lay his wrapped, shivering body on an unhinged portable bathroom door, tying ropes around him and attaching them to Callus' saddle. After stitching his open wound, I sought out for shelter, eventually happening upon this empty resort by the lake.
The houses were fit for winter, sure, but most of them had already been ransacked and looted. There were beds whose blankets and pillows had been robbed, cabinets and pantries with nothing but cobwebs sticking out at the corners. The most supplies I could find were too little. The houses were nothing more but walls and roofs.
But I found a place.
It seemed enough to get by.
Now I was sitting by Joel, watching as his chest uneasily rose and fell, his lips slightly quivering. The basement was cold, and the cemented floor even colder. In an attempt to warm myself, I wrapped the jacket around me tighter, lying down and scooting myself closer to my companion.
The cold still pressed on.
My face was stinging, my hands frozen, and my lips so chapped that they bleed.
I didn't care.
I had the antibiotics. I had to make him well.
We needed to move.
Away from this place.
Away from David.
-RILEY-
"Get down."
"What—"
"Shush. There . . . Beyond the bushes."
Leon's confused eyes followed mine, and they landed upon a small wooden lodging, surrounded by the snow-encrusted forest.
"I know," he whispered, slightly irate. "We already saw this cabin from yards away."
"No," I looked at him sternly, my finger cautiously pointing at the window. "Look closer."
We watched the dirtied glass pane for a moment, and a figure from within appeared, pacing inside the room.
"Oh."
We were hunched behind the bushes, the powdered snow that tousled with the wind was an additional bonus to our makeshift camouflage. We studied the lodging's surroundings, noticing the unlit campfire by the side.
Leon's shoulders brushed mine.
"You think he's got company?"
"Only one way to find out."
We started to near the lodging, our backs low and feet cautious, eyes wary for any nearby noisemakers. The winds seemed to be against us, as it bickered and forcefully whipped our jackets around like it was trying to dissuade. Notwithstanding the cold, we pressed on, and eventually reached close enough to the cabin — our bodies just inches away from its wooden exterior.
Leon was the first to press his ear to the wall to listen.
I followed up.
". . . be shootin' rounds in no time, boy's a fast learner."
It was male. The voice between tenor and baritone. His pronunciation obviously from southern roots. I assumed he was young.
(One of the drills that I underwent during my time as both a Firefly and cadet was to describe a person's profile to the best of my abilities. Obviously, it'd worked well.)
We continued to listen.
" . . . ain't worried 'bout that, but just imagine the look on Ma's face by the time we get back'n she sees that gun on his hands. He's still . . . "
Another male. Baritone voice. Also southern. Assumed to be older.
We snaked to the left, arriving at the foot of the door. Our breaths felt like they were anticipating something.
" . . . seriously, kid's gotta watch himself. You want him hidin' behind our backs all the damn time?"
Leon's eyes found mine.
And they were not shaking — nor were they anxious. His eyes had just been looking at me. Steadily. Readily.
I exchanged the look.
And then our routine started.
My conscience began to shut down.
What occurred next became a blur. Our guns were out. Safeties off. Leon's hand was on the doorknob. Something swung open, and then two figures looked to our direction. I could see nothing but the expressions on their faces. Surprise. A look of casualness simply draining into panic. One of them barked something, but I paid no attention — our plan was to just do the routine, like we always did.
There was a blur again, a whirlpool of voices and movements. Now the two men appeared—kneeling on the snow outside the cabin. Leon handed me something that seemed like rope, and I tied their hands behind their backs. My conscience seemed to be saying something, but I would hear none of it. My mind had to run on static. Our goal was to take what we needed. We had done this before, and we would do it again.
Slowly, my lucidity had been acquired.
I realized that I was standing, surrounded by snow, facing a pair of kneeling figures. Beside me was Leon, his eyes narrowed.
We had dragged the men outside. I could identify them better — one was in his twenties and the other older and bearded. Both blond-haired. Leon's hands were holding guns. (One was his, the other was that of the older man's.)
"You pull anything, and you're dead." Leon's tone was unnervingly nonchalant, aiming the two guns at the men respectively. He turned to look at me.
"See if there's anything else in the cabin, I'll watch 'em." I said, tossing my head to the direction. Leon nodded and handed me the guns as he went inside.
I aimed both guns at their foreheads. The older man bit his lip.
"You don't have to do this,"
It was always the same sentence. The same tone. The same plead. You don't have to do this.
"We're just taking what we need . . . we don't want any trouble." I replied, my eyes trailing to the younger, more aggressive man. He had cold dark eyes, his breath dampening the air like a flying cape.
"Y'all've got some fuckin' nerves for a pair of kids." he growled, his shoulders hunched. "Comin' in our cabin, demandin' us to give you our weapons, stealin' what's rightfully ours—"
"Hey." the older man said, his eyes glaring at his companion. He stared for a second or two, before angling them apologetically to mine. "Easy, child, he just doesn't think as often as he speaks."
The younger man shot him a glaring look, his face flashed with annoyance and arising anger. "Are you fucking kiddin' me? You're afraid of some kids?"
"They're armed."
"And they're still kids. You think one of 'em's got the guts to kill a goddamned man—"
Leon suddenly kicked him from behind. Hard. The man fell forward, and a garbled cry of pain flew out of his mouth as the older man watched in shock. Leon was yet to be satisfied, and he pulled the man back up on his knees by his collar, their faces fiercely close.
"You sure about that?" he snarled. His blue eyes were narrowed. "Because I'd be glad to prove otherwise."
You'd expect the man to stay submissive by now.
He didn't.
He slammed his forehead on Leon's instead.
Suddenly the man was on him, his hands somehow freed from the ropes as he continued to attack Leon. Shouts and spits and curses were flying everywhere, zooming over my head and scattering around the forest. They rolled around violently in the snow, while I'd been too stunned to take action.
That was when the man went on top of Leon and grabbed for a rock. He raised it high in the air, attempting to smother it forcefully on his face.
And then I tackled him.
I held him down long enough for Leon to regain his senses. I could feel the man's entire body trying to push against mine. He pounded his fists against my back, and all I could do was bury my face in his chest as I held my grip on him tighter. Hands pried my arms away from him, and I was so sure they belonged to Leon's.
It was the older man's.
He tore me away from him and shoved me across the snow. Cool slushes of white kissed my cheeks as I landed on my back, only to find Leon standing some meters away from me with a gun aimed at the younger man.
The shot sounded louder in my head.
And then suddenly the loud, angry noises had been quietened. I trailed my eyes reluctantly to where Leon aimed, and found the younger man lying still on the ground — there was a bullet hole on his forehead. The snow below him eagerly drank the blood, and his eyes were wide open and mouth hauntingly agape.
The older man fumbled away from the corpse, completely in shock.
Leon sloshed through the snow and aimed his gun again. The older man froze and raised his hands in the air.
"Please," he said, his voice breaking. "Please . . . don't. You don't have to do th—"
The second shot shook the air, and he fell quickly to the ground.
...
It was always the same sentence.
The same tone.
The same plead.
You don't have to do this.
...
"You okay?"
I turned to Leon shakily.
"Yeah . . . "
He helped me up to my feet.
We had collected their belongings — taking the food and supplies from the cabin. The whole time, my mind was in shock, still trying to process what had just happened.
"Look," Leon spoke, as soon as we were about to leave the site. "What we're doing is—"
A rapid sound of footsteps from behind interrupted him.
"Infected?" I whispered.
"No, this one's too quiet." He grabbed my arm. "C'mon, to the bushes."
We hid. The noise of the footsteps started to crescendo and it sounded like someone running. We ducked our heads low, anticipating for the figure to appear from the foliage.
...
A boy emerged. Pale-skinned and short and out-of-breath, his face drained color when he recognized the bodies lying in the snow.
Shit.
Everything that happened next was grim. He fell to his knees at the sight and began sobbing. The boy remained in that position for a few moments, before he reluctantly mustered up the emotional strength to stand again and look at the two bodies in front of him.
Holes in their foreheads. Blood soaked in the snow. Eyes wide open and skin as cold as the weather itself.
And he lost it.
He fell to his knees again — crying and shaking and refusing to allow the reality to sink in. The absolute sight of him was awful, and it was only at that time when I noticed the color of his hair — blond. Like the other two men.
My heart dampened.
"Come on," Leon said, tugging at my arm with unwillingness. The boy's wails were beginning to grow so loud that it had become painful to listen. I took a steady breath and faced Leon, his face lost of all its hardness.
"I know," He glanced at the boy and shook his head. "But we have to go."
It took three more minutes before we actually left. His cries were still audible in my ears.
...
"How old do you think he was?" I asked, when we were hundreds of feet away.
Leon bit his chapped lips and ran a hand through his hair.
"No more than ten."
A sick feeling lurched inside my stomach.
No more than ten.
x
"This can't be it."
Leon lifted his head up curiously, the contours of his face emphasized by the shadows and fire.
We were back at our own camp. Nightfall had already arrived.
"Killing people . . . " I continued. "Stealing from them . . . when did this become ordinary?"
"Have you been asleep these past twenty years?" he scoffed, sitting across from me as he ate his cans of beans. "Since the damn world fell apart."
"No."
He returned his glance to me.
"You weren't like this before, Leon." I said. "You and your father, I know you were good people . . . I know that you still are."
There was a silence. I hugged my sides and inched closer to the campfire, my gaze curiously watching Leon. I eyed the scar on his cheek — his own reminder for the parent he'd lost.
"My father was a good man," he mused, eyes focused on stirring the plastic fork in his can. "Ever since the outbreak, he'd been helping folks with his medicine and all. He loved what he did, and lots of people were grateful." For a moment there was a faint, tiny smile on his lips. It lingered for a while.
Then it was gone.
"He ended up helping the wrong type of person," His voice was solid, with no hints of breaking. "and it's what's gotten him killed."
Leon looked at me now. His blue, electric orbs stern and hard. Shadows danced on his face, and I could hardly recognize him.
"You can't be a good person in this world anymore, Riley. Because there is no good or bad. You just"—he shook his head—"You just survive. And that's what we're doing. Surviving. We aren't bad for killing those people, we had no other option."
Leon set the can of beans aside and leaned in forward, just enough that the fire barely licked his face. I could see the flame's reflection in his blue eyes, his stern face was looking directly at me.
It sent chills.
"We are survivors, Riley." he said flatly. "Anyone who isn't that ends up dead."
-JOEL-
29 HOURS LATER
The snow was blinding him.
In his peripheral, Joel could only spot the white freckles whizzing past him, the frosting wind bit at his skin, and not even his beard could insulate the cold. But he saw it.
The fire.
His eyes had widened and suddenly everything became clearer, the restaurant was glowing a bright orange, battling with the frostbite air. Pops of embers flew and settled on the snow, only to be engulfed by the white slush that came down and tackled it.
Joel's frozen feet moved, they moved faster than he thought possible in such freezing conditions. His legs cooperated in rhythm and he found himself calling Ellie's name, only to be muted by the intense howling of the wind.
She was in that burning restaurant.
He knew it. He knew she had to be in there.
So he ran even harder.
Upon arriving at the entrance, the fire's smoke had clouded his vision. What seemed to be the doorway became a pile of unapproachable flames. Joel cursed under his shivering breath, his hazel eyes racing around the boundaries of the restaurant to find for an entrance. The fire roared and soared higher in the air, puffs of smoke escaping out of the building to attain freedom in the sky. He didn't know if he had gotten every last one of those men who were hunting him, but it was apparent that the smoke would arouse attention.
He had to act fast.
Joel rounded one side of the building, eyes squinted in search for a possible entrance. The snow covered his view again, and when there was a brief respite, he found the dull metal gleam against the white surroundings — an emergency door. Perfect.
When he hobbled over, feet almost slipping as they encountered an unexpected sleet on the ground, Joel rammed his shoulder on the knob-less door, and it swung open. He doubled over, gritting his teeth before straightening up again. There was no time to wince at the pain that was erupting from his abdomen. Ellie was in there and it was all that mattered.
He was inside now, he had to find her.
The environment had changed abruptly, from the biting ice came the suffering flames. They clashed together, heat against cold, fire against snow. His cheeks were hot and smoke was filling his lungs, coughing haggardly, he stumbled around to regain focus.
Suddenly, he heard the metallic clangs.
The whumps.
He heard the shrieks of a man, only to be replaced by those of a girl's.
Joel's stomach wrenched.
Ellie.
He sprinted toward the sound, and the metallic whumps increased in volume until it pounded his eardrums and shook his legs. Among the tables and the floating embers, Joel spotted a figure.
He froze for a millisecond.
There she was, on top of someone, punching them — no, hitting them with what seemed to be . . .
A machete.
Whoever it was, she was making a cake out of them.
Slicing,
dicing,
cutting.
Each swing, each thrust looked painful and forced, and Joel was taken aback by such ferocity. Something that he had never seen in her until that very moment.
He didn't remember, but the next thing he knew, he was holding her. Ellie screamed in his grasp as she dropped the knife, demanding to be let go, not knowing that her assaulter had been her guardian. Her companion. Joel could only jabber words that he hoped would pass through her raging head.
"Don't fucking touch me!"
Joel turned her around, cupping her face that surprisingly had tears streaking down her bloody cheek.
"It's me."
When Ellie started to recognize him, her breath hitched. She was in disbelief of what she was seeing. It was impossible, how could he be standing there? How could he be right in front of her, holding her and being there for her as if he'd never been hurt?
How could he be here at this given moment? Just after someone had intended to violate her, how could he be up and standing?
It was only then that she realized how emotionally and physically pained she was.
How was she still alive?
"He tried to—"
Joel pulled her in, to wrap her in his arms. "Oh, baby girl . . ." he whispered, his head resting on hers.
Baby girl.
That was it.
Ellie's barrier had been breached, and she started to sob on his shoulder. From exhaustion, from everything, from trauma.
David had traumatized her.
He shattered every last glass of innocence left in her fragile state of mind. He ripped her apart from the world she once viewed before, and was thrown into a foreign one — an unfriendly one. One that made her shiver against the cold, one that broke her ribs and clenched her throat. He altered her view of the world permanently.
She didn't realize that Joel had a warm texture that hadn't been there weeks before. Before, he had that twang of coldness emancipating as his aura. Before, he was just a cold, shivering body with a stitched wound. Before, he was pitiful, weak, and vulnerable.
There was blood on her face, blood that didn't belong to her. Blood that permanently stained her soul, lingering as a painful reminder for the things she had been through. He had never seen her cry, not once, not once in their journey did she ever break past that emotional barrier. But here she was, her shell had been broken and she was left with a quivering figure and a vulnerable heart.
They were both vulnerable.
And in that restaurant, it seemed that everything else became inconsequential, and there was stillness between the two as they sought for each other's comfort beneath the embers and cold.
Nothing but two things now.
Just them.
Just warmth.
-RILEY-
MONTHS LATER
"So," Leon said, chewing on the bone of a rabbit's leg. "Wyoming, is it?"
I had laid the map on the floor. There was a rickety wooden lodging by the side of the road, so Leon and I had decided to eat lunch inside while planning the next state to visit. We were fairly supplied. We even had roasted rabbit for lunch, something that I thought we would never have on a daily basis.
A cool spring breeze entered throughout the house, and I smiled to myself. South Dakota was an interesting state. Earlier this week we had passed through a site I'd seen in documentary films and history textbooks. Mount Rushmore didn't look as beautiful as it had been several years in the past, the stress of the earth and the man-made catastrophes that occurred near it had caused the faces of the presidents to erode. Even some vines started to grow on it.
Nevertheless, it was a beautiful site. Leon and I had decided to set up a campfire as we faced the structure. Daydreaming and theorizing things that might've happened before the apocalypse.
"What's wrong with Wyoming?" I said. Leon shook his head and shrugged in-between chewing. "Nothing. I just never really heard anything about it."
I chuckled. "That sounds like good news nowadays."
"True,"
"Alrighty then," I huffed. "We leave for Wyoming in three days, any violent reactions?"
"I'll miss South Dakota."
"Bullshit, you'll miss Mount Rushmore."
Leon blushed. "Possibly."
As you could tell, we were getting our old relationship back. I was extremely grateful for it. Despite the grim things we had done and had continued to do, Leon had slowly warmed up to me, his sardonic and witty attitude regaining as each day passed by.
"Okay. Wyoming, three days, Leon likes Mount Rushmore. Did I get that right?" I asked, folding the map until it could have a snug fit in my backpack. Leon stood up and threw the rabbit bone into the bushes outside of the house.
"Yeah, let's go." he said, putting on his backpack as we headed out to explore.
This was the third state in the northwestern area we were heading to.
It had been months.
I still hadn't found her.
-JOEL-
DAYS LATER
He stood before her, he held the unconscious and fragile girl in his arms. The car was the one way trip to freedom, to finally leave everything behind in the dust. He would've entered the vehicle by now if it hadn't been for Marlene, her gun was aimed steadily at Joel's head.
She had tried to negotiate with him, to try and persuade him into doing the right thing. But was sacrificing the girl in hopes for a possible vaccine really the right thing? Even if the vaccine was successful, was the world really going to transform into a better place? It was already fucked in the first place, finding a cure for a dead Earth was like trying to disinfect the wounds of a corpse. Ineffective.
Marlene neared him carefully, bringing the gun away as a sign of peace. Joel mentally ridiculed her, she should've shot him when she had the chance. He felt for the handle of the gun in his back-pocket, waiting for the perfect time to bring it out.
Four feet away, three feet away, two feet away. Now was the time.
The gunshot echoed throughout the parking lot, and Marlene's face had been drained of all life as she fell on the floor, her abdomen leaking blood as fast as an overflowing water hose.
Joel ran for the car, all while carefully nestling Ellie. He laid her down in the backseat of the four-seater as she snoozed away in a drugged dream. She was completely oblivious to the events around her — she wouldn't know, and would probably never know what had happened just meters ahead of her.
He walked over to Marlene with an emotionless face. He wasn't proud of his deeds at all, but he needed to do it for the sake of Ellie's safety, to completely rid the Fireflies of tracking them down. He needed to do it, he had to.
"Wait," she pleaded. "Let me go."
"Please."
Joel had heard those requests a thousand times, all ranging from people that he had never gotten to know personally or would ever know, since it mostly came from hunters and cannibals. He wasn't certain of what Marlene would do if he'd ever let her go. She would most probably disappear from the face of the Earth, but he was as sure as hell that it wouldn't be the last time he'd see her.
Joel tightened the grip around his pistol, and he looked down at Marlene with deadpan eyes. They exchanged looks, his being detached and unfeeling while hers being desperate and despondent.
"You'd just come after her."
He pulled the trigger.
...
It's over, now. Joel thought.
It was all over.
THREE DAYS LATER
"Hey, wait." she called to him.
Joel turned around, his look away from the settlement after facing the girl.
The settlement. Tommy's.
They were so close, and despite Joel's hidden impatience, he humbly allowed her to speak up.
As Ellie watched his preparation to listen, her mind had been blocked, somehow forgetting what she was going to say. Frustrated and tongue-tied, she wrung her wrists together and sighed. It had been three days. And the redhead knew so little. The second she had awoken after falling into the water and getting unconscious, she had found herself lying in a car, garbing a surgery gown that she did not recall putting on.
Why was she wearing a surgery gown?
When Ellie had queried, Joel had told her—in the most nonchalant tone—that the they had found the Fireflies.
x
"Turns out, there's a... whole lot more like you, Ellie," he said. "People that're immune— it's dozens, actually. Ain't done a damn bit of good, neither."
...
"They've actually st—"
That pause.
...
"...They've stopped lookin' for a cure."
...
"I'm takin' us home."
...
Home.
She closed her eyes tight, then opened it up again. A disbelieving action. Complete and utter repudiation.
Her heart had burned with such pain upon hearing those words.
It had devastatingly hit her with cataclysmic force. All those months of hardships, pain, sorrow, remorse, hell, all for searching for the Fireflies. For redemption. And for what?
Nothing.
Her memory flashed before her when she closed her eyes during that car ride.
Riley.
...
Tess.
...
Sam and Henry.
Their deaths were all in vain.
She would not avenge her best friend's sudden end, or Tess', or the two brother's. They were all flushed down the drain, to be forgotten. The upcoming water had burned her eyes, and Ellie turned to face the car seat, her mind blank and not responding.
Everything else started to shut down around her. Her surroundings became insignificant.
...
"I'm sorry." Joel mumbled, and it seemed to pierce her through rather than comfort her. His words were like blades, and it emotionally pained her to feel its sharpness, its edge. There was disappointment, hurt, and anger present in the girl's veins, but she kept it all inside. She faced the car seat, refusing to look at Joel.
Refusing to believe his words.
...
And on that point, she let the silent tears flow.
...
All for nothing.
x
As Ellie pondered through the recap, she looked back up at his companion.
He was not the same man when she first met him.
This was a different person. He was but a shell of what he used to be towards her. From cold and brooding to paternal and loving, Ellie was stunned at seeing such transformation. A transformation that had ultimately decided on whether or not Joel would deliver her to the Fireflies without causing trouble.
But you know what had happened, don't you?
You all know.
If she wanted to spill whatever she needed to spill to him, now was the right time.
She had to tell him. Before it would eat her up inside. She had to.
"Back in Boston," she said, looking up at Joel, "back when I was bitten,"
...
"I wasn't alone."
Joel shifted slightly to the right as he continued on listening. Ellie swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to find the words on how to lay it down.
"My best friend was there," she continued, "and we didn't know what to do."
"So. . ." she trailed off, glancing away from him for a minute.
Ellie remembered quite a lot. It was one of those days that definitely fit the word bipolar in its description. One minute, she'd found herself crying, and the other, she had been on the brink of choking out a gut from laughter. To describe it? It was a roller coaster.
A really, really, loopy roller coaster.
". . .We decided to make the most out of it, since she figured that I was going to die in a matter of days, why not do it with the best of memories? She wanted to stay, even if she knew I was done for. She said she'd rather . . . you know, be all poetic and just lose our minds together.
"Eventually, we ended up meeting Marlene . . ." she mumbled. "And she figured out that I was unaffected by the bite."
Marlene.
Ellie thought of the last time she had seen her, and wondered why Joel hadn't brought up the fact that he hadn't mentioned the woman during his explanation back at the car ride to Jackson.
Not once.
But Ellie shrugged off the thought momentarily, focusing back to the story.
"We were originally deployed without the smugglers, but . . ." Ellie muttered, remembering the shot that claimed Riley's life. "She got . . . killed . . . during a hunter incident. She got blasted off of this bridge, and fell in the water. After that. . . I, uh, was forced to get smuggled out instead."
She remembered it all. Riley's look of mystification, the blood draining out of her face, the thrashing and settling of water, the fall, and the collision. It seemed all too fictional to her, that Riley wasn't living. No matter how hard she tried to accept it, she couldn't take the fact that she was gone. That she wasn't standing beside her, ready to embrace their new lives in Jackson.
"I'm still hoping that somehow, she made it out."
"Ellie. . ."
"Her name was Riley, and she was the first to die." She gulped. "And then it was Tess, and then Sam."
He attempted to solace. "None of that is on you."
It was funny, though, just several months back, he had been mentally blaming her for what had happened to Tess. And despite none if it being true, it still felt like the poor girl had been held accountable. She kept it in, she was dealing with survivor's guilt. She was physically and mentally affected from everything.
So what position was Joel in that gave him the right to say something that sounded so ignorant?
Ellie sighed. "No, you don't understand—"
But he cut her off. Patiently, understandably.
"I struggled . . . for a long time with survivin'." he stated slowly. "And you— . . ." He tripped his words, and Ellie found him gliding his fingers across his broken watch.
Sarah's gift.
Somehow, it made the girl's heart ache knowing that that was the last thing that resembled his only daughter. A broken watch that had been given as a gift countless moons ago, something that Joel had told her during the wee hours of springtime.
"No matter what, you keep findin' something to fight for."
An exasperated sigh escaped Ellie's lips, the man was expecting this.
"Now, I know that's not want you wanna hear right now, but it's—"
"Swear to me." Ellie interrupted him, her green eyes were now glued onto his.
...
"Swear to me that everything that you said about the Fireflies is true."
...
There was a short hiatus, his breath hitched on the last second. But it'd been too late.
"I swear."
Too late.
And she stood there, gawking at him.
She didn't know what to feel. He had gone to his business to lie to her, as if shrugging off her story like it'd been nothing, and beguiled her. No, she couldn't be fooled. She was too wise and too witty to know any better than to believe him. Against it all, she couldn't feel betrayal when she wanted to, she couldn't feel anger when she needed to, and she couldn't push him in frustration when her body craved to. There was a pinch of trust she had for the man. Trust. Out of all things possible, it had to be trust.
How could she be able to trust him, after everything they'd been through, and the man had still lied to her?
What did he mean, anyway?
She contemplated on his previous words, to find something to fight for.
And then suddenly, she realized it. Like it was waiting for her to discover the epiphany, something clicked in her head.
Joel was talking about her.
Of course he was referring to her. She knew that. But this newly acquired knowledge had hit her with different force. It came to her attention that Joel was living because of her. For her sake and his own. It became apparent, that after several months of trekking together, bonding together, that Joel had stopped viewing her as an escort. He viewed her as something much, much more bigger.
And when his hands had trailed to touch his broken metal watch, she knew it.
He viewed her as a second daughter.
Not for the sake of replacing Sarah, not because he promised Tess to look after her, and certainly not as a burden that he was obliged to carry on because she didn't have anywhere else to go.
But because he loved her.
He loved her more than anything else in the human world that he had gone to the troubles to kill everyone and anyone in the hospital that served as a possible threat toward her. He loved her with the same amount that he felt for Sarah, his only child.
He saw her as family.
And most surely, Joel could not afford to lose another daughter again.
So when Ellie looked up at him and saw his hazel eyes that reflected those of her green ones, she could see only him. And she realized that no one else other than Riley had absolutely cared for her more than the world itself. More than their own lives.
It hit her with even more force when she devastatingly loved him back.
Despite her resentment toward him for lying, despite everything they had been through, she loved him like a father that she never had. Suddenly, she understood why she felt that trust. Like it was an instinctive reflex for her to put faith in him. She didn't know what had gone on in the hospital when she was unconscious, but she had a hunch that the lie was protecting her from something.
Could it be the survivor's guilt, the possible notions of the Fireflies, heck, it could be from herself. He was stopping her from giving up her life for an uncertain cure, that Ellie looked so willing to do anything to relieve the guilt she'd been trying to suppress ever since Riley had died. To make up for leaving all her previous companions behind in the dust. The guilt she had because everyone else had died and she didn't.
Compensation.
Unaware, she looked beyond his shoulders, and she saw the view of Jackson. Beautiful, fortified, Jackson. It was waiting for them. Tommy's settlement represented as their unlikely home, a place for them to start anew, a place for them to leave their past struggles behind and to embrace the new life.
They were home, and Ellie would be damn lying if everything they had been through was all for nothing.
She knew she was wrong.
It was for their new life.
Their new beginnings.
...
"Okay."
The two neared the gates, and though they anticipated it, they both flinched as a bullet appeared and grounded the grassy floor in front of them, the boom sounding off into the air like a bomb.
Ellie backed away in swift pace, caught off-guard from walking in such a hypnotic state. "Jesus—"
Joel caught her in her feet, pulling her back from where the bullet ended up in. The ground advertised an artificial hole, the bottom base of the bullet poking out like a head.
"That's close enough."
A man emerged from the the towers in the gate, sporting a hunting rifle that blinded Ellie's vision for a second.
"Look," Joel muttered, "we don't want no trouble, we just—"
The man cut him off. "Hey, Josh Brolin, hands in the air."
Joel pursed his lips.
With narrowed eyes, he did as told, and Ellie mimicked him from behind.
"What's your business here?"
"Name's Joel." and he gestured toward his companion. "This here's Ellie, we've been 'ere before, just returned from a little . . . trip. Tommy's my brother, you can ask him for confirmation."
The guard didn't seem convinced; with his gun still trained on the Texan, he removed the clipped radio from his shirt pocket, muttering something inaudible for Joel and Ellie.
Upon receiving a static voice, the guard's stern face eased slightly, probably already getting affirmation from Tommy that he was indeed his brother. He disappeared from the watch tower, only to emerge at the front gates as it started to creak open. The man's brown hair was what Joel saw first.
"I'll be damned," he said, his attitude completely different from before, "yeah, sorry, I remember you two from months ago. Welcome back."
Ellie took a breath, her feet unsteady and her eyes nervous. She wasn't supposed to be feeling such timidity, but the thought of actually settling in Jackson was so... alien to her. She had never been inside, never stepped foot into the cobblestone roads to view the bustling village.
There's a first time for everything, right?
When they were ushered in, a familiar breeze that reminded them of the dam settled in and waved at their noses. The guard returned back to his station, and left Joel and Ellie in peace to ogle at their surroundings in silence. The settlement was large, larger than they thought compared to the last time they had viewed it during fall. Houses were lined up along the sides of streets. Roads were like mazes, and there were cul-de-sacs that had crops at their ends. People—actual people—were roaming around, chatting with others and allowing their children to frolic. Ellie spotted a young pup burst through the door of a house, only to be chased by a giggling little girl and her presumably yelling mother.
The peace was so unsettling to her that she started to shake, she subconsciously grabbed Joel's arm and clenched.
The Texan looked down at her, quirking a brow.
"What is it?"
She didn't reply at first, Ellie steadied her shaking body and shook her head.
"Man, it's just . . . different. I mean, look at it."
Her query had made him hesitate for a moment, and even he began to question it as well. Joel smirked, another waft of spring breeze going past them.
"Well," he said, "sometimes when you live on edge for too long, you forget what it's like to just sit down n'take a breather."
...
"I miss this, y'know." he mumbled, and Ellie looked up at him. Her green eyes were yearning him to continue.
"This... liveliness. You ain't seein' this in the Zones, where everyone's all buried in 'em buildings, their windows boarded up like it's the damn holocaust." He sighed. "You're just . . . tryin' to survive all day, and ironically, you forget how to live. Forget what it's like to wake up n'the morning and breathe in the air. . ."
He pictured a distant memory. He was sitting on the couch, an arm wrapped around his daughter as they watched the World Cup on the flat screen television with microwaved popcorn sitting on the coffee table. He could hear Sarah jeering at the enemy team, groaning when one of the goalies she resented had caught the ball. Joel was more of an American football type of guy, but watching his daughter react was probably more fascinating than the game.
An ache found itself in Joel's chest, and his eyes looked away from the view, suddenly focusing when they heard a distance voice yelling behind them.
"Joel?"
He turned around.
Tommy stood from afar, six feet in height, his pupils enlarged in incredulity.
"Tommy," he said.
And he pictured the memory again, it continued with Tommy walking in and joining Joel and Sarah on the couch, his hair short and face shaved. He grabbed the bowl of popcorn and wolfed it down, only to be castigated by the young girl and demanded that he shared. He remembered seeing himself laughing, and after an argument about whose team was better, the three of them had watched the game in tense silence, with Sarah wedged between the two brothers, muttering every now and then at the goalie who kept catching the ball.
He didn't realize how much he missed it, to live.
And how much he missed his own damn brother.
"Tommy." Joel said it again, much louder.
The younger sibling jogged towards him, and the former did the same.
They hugged in silence, not needing words to fill in what they wanted to say. They shrugged off the sibling rivalry, the horrible occurrences that happened between them, everything that presented negativity. Joel's exhaustion got the better of him, and he sighed and patted his brother's neck.
They had an explosive relationship, these Miller brothers, and that was putting it lightly.
"Nice t'see you again, baby brother."
"Jesus." Tommy's voice was muffled against Joel's denim shirt. "You fuckin' worried us to death, y'know that?"
He worried himself, too.
Ellie approached the two brothers, and Tommy didn't hesitate in pulling her in for an embrace.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he told Ellie, and she smiled at him, trying her best not to show her own tiredness.
"Where's Maria?" she queried, Tommy scratched his neck.
"Back at the dam, I got 'er on the horn and told the good news, she'll be here soon."
He looked back at his older brother.
"So how was it? Did you find 'em?"
Oh, of course. He was expecting this question.
He waffled for a moment, not noticing Ellie's transforming expression.
"It's, uh, about that—"
"It's a long story." Ellie interrupted, glancing back at Joel with a familiar look. Tommy seemed to have caught on, and he raised a slightly skeptic eyebrow at his brother, who only shrugged in response.
"Right," Tommy said, "well, we can discuss that later. Need to show you around the damn place, 'scuse my manners."
Exploring Jackson, Ellie was completely nonplussed by everything. It would take some time getting used to, now that she realized that the buildings had people who resided in them, people who had made their house a home. Everywhere she looked, she saw people going in and out, she couldn't believe Tommy's statement, more than twenty families? It looked like there was a hundred thousand in Jackson.
The houses were lined in a fashionable way, most were slightly shabby, but inhabitable and cozy nonetheless. One house seemed to have gotten Ellie's attention, the one just at the end of the road. She looked up at the humongous view of the two-story building.
"Wow, is that your house?" she asked.
Tommy laughed, a sheepish hand scratching his neck. "No,"
"Well, who owns it then?"
...
"I'm looking right at 'em."
Joel turned to him, dumbfounded, and his mouth dropped to form an O shape.
"What—?"
The elder brother gawked at him, then at the house, then back at him.
It was large, probably the best-looking one out of the whole block. It had a backyard, a patio, everything. There was even a well-built chimney system that would make a wonderful fireplace. The house's paint had torn off, though some of the color remained. Despite the shortcomings, it was a beautiful house, and the sheer possibility that it could be their home was overwhelming.
"I got a 'lil too excited, haven't I?" He fiddled his thumbs. "We've been renovating this house for months, now. And since you hadn't returned for . . . well, we thought you were gone for good."
"You didn't need to do this for us." he said, but Tommy could only scoff.
"Yeah, well, I do a lotta shit that don't need doin', don't I?"
With nothing else to object, Joel smiled, and it had been one of the rarest, genuine grins that he had ever given. He stretched his arm out and placed it on Tommy's shoulder, shaking him brotherly as they both started to chuckle.
"Ellie," Tommy beamed, "think you could do the honors?"
She took no time in smiling back. "Absolutely."
She brushed past them in a childish manner, opening the door clumsily to their new humble abode. Immediately, unfamiliar sights had filled her vision, and she spotted the living room first, which consisted of a wide space that had two refurbished couches, a large rectangular coffee table, and a television.
Ellie's eyes widened.
A television.
"Does it— . . ." She didn't want to jinx it, but she couldn't help it. "Does it work . . ?"
Tommy's response had sorrowfully disappointed her, but her excitement had repleted once she began viewing the house's milieu again.
With Joel beside him, Tommy smirked, both of them stood with their arms crossed, the elder one's head swiveled in multiple directions, reveling the sight of their home.
"She means a lot to you, doesn't she?"
The question caught him off-guard.
...
He breathed in, his eyes focusing on the girl as she examined the drawers and cupboards, muttering gibberish thrill as she scavenged the house like a small child. There was just something about Ellie that made him feel like he was a father again, like he was capable of loving again. As he watched her, he smiled, before turning back to his waiting sibling.
"More than you'll ever know, baby brother."
"Well," He slung his arm over Joel's broad shoulders, causing the elder one to chuckle again.
"Here's a chance to live again."
-ELLIE-
6 DAYS LATER
Joel and I had made an agreement.
Well, I forced him to, anyway.
In return for hunting alone for the day, I was supposed to deal with scrubbing the dishes for the next week. I internally laughed, back in the military school, dishes were nothing compared to cleaning the toilets. Yes, including the inside.
So it was a fair trade, might I say, and hunting really helped my mind stay in peace. So, after leaving without acknowledging a proper farewell to my guardian, I sped off.
I flew out of the house and to the streets of Jackson. The water puddles from yesterday's rain shower were drenching my worn out sneakers, the same sneakers that I had worn ever since we were in Boston. And as the water was kicking at my heels, I heard Joel's distant voice as I ran.
"Be back before sundown!" he yelled in a concerned manner. I threw a thumbs-up in the air as I ran, making sure that I got the message. As I zoomed past groups of people I eventually arrived at the exit gates, and Vance -one of the guards- had greeted me with a smile.
"Hunting again?"
I gave out a quick nod.
"Knock yourself out." he said, opening the gates that led to the outside.
Okay, technically Vance was keeping an eye on me, so I wasn't lying to Joel.
The day after Tommy's tour, Maria had mentioned something about hunting, and almost immediately the interest had sparked in my head. She and Joel had hunted with me on the first few days, but later on I had learned to do it by myself.
"Please don't rain . . . " I mumbled, taking my bow out.
The forests of Wyoming were incredibly huge and gorgeous. There was a lake nearing the side of the forest where Joel had promised me that the swimming lessons would be taught there. Yes, swimming lessons, I know, it was about time.
The trees were as tall as three-story houses and the abandoned cabins acted as sanctuaries. But walking ahead, I had discovered a new path that led to a different route of the forest, meaning that I could probably hunt down a lamb if I could. A lamb. Oh, yeah, that'd totally be good right about now. Roasted lamb chops. Mmm. They'd served those delicacies during each end of the year back at school. The scent of minced, well-roasted meat came back to me, and my stomach started to growl.
And so without another thought, I walked through the new route, different views of scenery were shown in my peripheral and I was captivated by everything. The faint sounds of an endless water trickle were emitted to the west of me, and I followed the sound. Minutes later, I was standing before the sight of a wondrous miniature waterfall.
"Wow." I breathed out, nearing it. Wow indeed. It looked like something copied right out of a fantasy book. Red Riding Hood sort of scenery; with the luscious grass, the crystal water, and everything. I sat on the grass and took out my sneakers, placing them next to me as I soaked my feet into the cool and fresh water. Oh, yeah.
The lamb chops could wait.
Eventually, I had closed my tired eyes that deserved the rest, and the only sounds that I could hear were the bird's chirps and the water's movement. There was a faint rustling every now and then, but since I was obviously caught up in this watery nirvana, they weren't noticeable until they had grown louder.
And louder.
And louder.
And louder.
Suddenly, the rustles became footsteps, and before I could turn around, a hand had been clamped tight to my mouth, preventing me from breathing.
Oh, fuck.
So much for nirvana.
In a panic, I swirled around, trying so desperately to get whoever was assaulting me off. No use. I was stuck in place, with my wet bare feet still plunged into the cool water.
This was what I got for not going for the goddamned lamb chops.
I couldn't move my arms, he apparently had his other arm wrapped around me like an iron brace. Great. I was running out of ideas, and this guy was probably going to mug me. Hopefully, that'd be all he would intend to do . . .
And then I realized something.
I had feet.
I lifted up my left foot, bringing it down upon his shoe like that fucking mallet from the carnival Riley and I had visited all those months back. I think I could hear the bell ringing.
"Fuck!" cried the assaulter. A-ha.
He removed the grip, both his hands finding his poor, swelling foot. Now that he was distracted, I turned around, earning me a good view of my attacker. His head was covered with a black jacket's hood, a handkerchief covered his mouth.
He was a bandit.
My bow was nowhere to be found, my switchblade had fallen into the small pond.
So, with all the remaining strength I had in me, I leaped at him.
I rode him until he was on the ground, sending two rage-filled punches at his direction. He cried out and attempted to claw at my face, his fingers gripping onto my hair and ripping strands of it off. One of his fingers collided with my mouth, so I bit on it. Blood welled and I could taste copper. The bandit retracted his finger and became submissive for a few moments, giving me the chance to drag him toward the pond. Once we were close enough, I picked him up by the collar, and plunged his head to the water.
He thrashed around wildly, and I used both arms to restrict his head from coming up from below. Bubbles were quickly rising up from the water, and I knew he had limited time. But before I could successfully drown him, someone had lifted me up from behind, giving the guy in the water the chance to lift his head up.
He inhaled sharply, his eyes giving off a shade of electric blue. My new, wondrous assaulter seemed a lot more leaner, though it didn't stop me from going easy on him.
"Let go of me, you fucker!" I yelled.
And almost instantly, his grip had softened. The guy flipped me around so that I would face him, and he had a hoodie that was draped over his head. His mouth too was covered by a handkerchief, so that the only thing I could see was his light dark skin and his brown eyes.
Wait.
I squinted at him.
...
Brown eyes.
I squinted even more.
These brown eyes weren't just your average ones. No, these were a spectacular light brown, gifted with a familiar spoke of darker shades that splintered his iris like a Ferris wheel. I had seen these kinds of eyes before, and they belonged to a girl whom I had once thought of as my whole—
No. Stop thinking about her.
I swooped my foot down across brown-eyed bandit's leg and he fell to the ground, not getting back and only staring at me, it made my head heat up. Stop staring at me with those damn eyes for once.
...
Nope, still staring. Jesus. What the fuck was up with this guy? And his eyes? And his everything?
The other one whom I attempted to drown was coughing loudly, and as he turned to our direction, he was just as confused and irritated as I was. He looked over at the guy on the ground, taking off the piece of clothing that covered his mouth.
"Riley, you know her or something?" he asked him, a tone of annoyance present.
My blood froze. Everything in my world stopped existing for a moment. And there we were, just two people, me and that brown-eyed boy, staring crazily at each other.
"His . . . " I cleared my throat, no use. "His name is . . . Riley?"
Brown-eyed wonder took his hood off, and did the same with the handkerchief, revealing a familiar face. Too familiar.
...
Oh, shit.
It was a her.
...
Her name was Riley.
Take a breath before proceeding to the next chapter x