Author's Note: Room for a little more action in this story! It came out… anyway, I like it. Hope you do, too.

Bunker East, as it's called, is a one-story building with corrugated aluminum walls, maybe twenty five feet long, nestled against East Gate. It serves as a break area for the guards, but because of its size, it's also used as a meeting area and houses desks and files for leadership. So it's kind of headquarters for them, too. Abby's taken her mid-shift meal there a few times, when stationed nearby.

So when she walks in at 5:00 AM on the morning of her shift to find only Jones inside, she's surprised.

He looks up from where he stands behind one of the desks, looking over some paperwork. "Andersen. Punctual. Good. Come on over."

Suddenly a level more nervous, Abby keeps her expression level, closes the door behind her, and walks around the long table in the middle of the room, over to Jones' desk. "Sir? I thought the others would be here."

He examines her for a moment. "After collecting your horses, rally is in front of the gates. You'll be rolling out of North today, in fact, with Whistler."

Abby's stomach twists. Clement Whistler? On the first day?

"He's one of the day shift captains. Good for showing you the ropes. That a problem?"

"Not on orders, sir." She second guesses herself. It's a Firefly saying basically meaning not if you're ordering me.

Fortunately, Jones chuckles. "Good attitude. Whistler's shrewd, to be fair. He'll get you out and back safe, though. Just about no trail out there he hasn't run under me."

"Sounds like a valuable trainer."

"Indeed." Having been glancing down and shuffling papers here and there, he lays the page in his hand down and walks around the desk, stopping in front of Abby. He considers her. "You look like you're struggling not to salute."

"Old habits, sir."

He smiles. "Your discipline is obvious, Andersen. And we value that here, but we are a bit different, I surmise, from the Fireflies."

"In a lot of good ways, sir."

"Easy on the 'sirs,' I get it." Jones is maybe 45, still muscular. He's got a band of gray hair on the sides of his hair, the top close cut and parted. Neat. He's honestly pretty attractive to Abby, a fact she instantly decides never to tell anyone. "Any bad ways?"

Abby frowns. Good leaders ask tough questions. "Ah… Well," her cheek pinches, "it's part and parcel with why we came here… but if there were ever a major attack on the city, the organization level… it's mostly civilians here, after all…" He must know what she means. She doesn't really want to give voice to it, seems unnecessary, to speak that kind of ill. "I mean, the bakery was packed when I walked by yesterday…"

Jones smirks. "You sound like me."

That surprises Abby.

"I've been working Maria's ear to establish militia, so we're not vulnerable to some kind of emergent assault. Some sizable party does move in our direction, patrol will sniff them out, sure, but won't give us the time we need to train hundreds of folks around here how to use guns and follow orders."

Abby's cheek pinches again. "Not pleasant to think about. Impossible to know how likely."

"Therein lies the rub. No matter, that needn't be your concern. I'm just curious about you. What rank did you hold in the Fireflies?"

Surprised again, Abby answers honestly. "Third. Sorry, short for 'guard third.' It's like a lieutenant captain, I suppose."

"So like my second, interesting. And the WLF?"

Now Abby's taken aback. "You know about that?"

"Andersen, it's been almost two years since Tommy and the others dragged their beaten asses back here from Seattle."

That stirs up an ugly feeling in Abby and she has to look away.

"Hey, I'm sorry." He gestures but doesn't touch her arm. He means it. "I'm sorry, that was cavalier. I don't need to investigate you, not that way. What was your rank?"

"Guard Superior," Abby replies, voice a little tight. "Basically one up from a guard."

"But you knew the leader. Isaac, right?"

Abby nods.

"How does that…?"

Still allaying the feeling that had come up, Abby has to think for a few seconds. "He had an informal network of people he trusted. He liked having them in various levels of command. He didn't trust easily. Not at all. He trusted me, though. I did things for him, sometimes."

Now Jones' brow is wrinkled, head tilted. No hostility, but totally serious. "Anything you regret?"

Abby swallows. "Sometimes."

Jones makes a gesture of dismissal. That'll do. "You don't miss it, do you?"

If this goes on much longer Abby is gonna tear up. "Not that part, no."

"Okay. That's fine. We don't walk backward into the future."

Honestly confused, Abby looks at him.

He chuckles, absurdly. "Sorry, mom used to say that. Anyway, I'll not judge you for the past. I like the cut of your jib, Andersen. And I know you've got more know-how than most of my recruits. And you obviously take conditioning seriously." He gestures to her arms.

"Like I told Maria," says Abby, "I don't let my people down."

He nods. "And what's your position on risks?"

Abby has to think again. Jones asks good questions. "You pick the right ones."

He nods. "Good answer. That will do, I think." He turns around and walks behind the desk. "I don't send anyone out there I don't have some amount of understanding of. This work, under right practice, is not dangerous. But you do need to be prepared." He glances up at her. "Something I suspect you are readily capable of."

"You'd be right, sir." Abby hesitates. "Jones?"

He smirks. "Jones is fine. Practically my first name. But if you do call me Timothy," he wags a finger at her, "I may be cross. Go on, now."

"Thanks, Jones." Abby has to suppress the urge to salute as she turns to go.

Charlemagne, Charlie for short, is a muscled but easy going mount, a mature Bay. He carries Abby up the crumbled mountain highway in steady, plodding steps, a sheer slope of dirt and rocks to the right, and a steep drop off to the left, barred only by a wobbly old barricade of rotting wooden pillars with sheets of folded steel connecting them. They've been climbing out of the valley basin all morning, and now several snowy peaks are in view, even in the height of summer, crowning mountains draped in evergreen forests. A river runs white and strong at their base, far below, its roar a minute whisper at this distance. The sun is yellow and bright, by now it's probably after 9:00.

Abby likes the feeling of being on a horse. When she was younger, before even Salt Lake City, in Angole, North Texas, she had learned to ride on the Firefly base there. They'd had a lot of horses. She'd loved it, actually. That was a good time. Her mother was even alive for part of it. Later in Salt Lake City, and in the WLF and after, she'd scarcely ever had the chance. She finds herself settling back into it quickly. She give's Charlie's neck a little stroke.

Her partner is not as easy to get used to. When Clement's not directing her to do something, he's offered her little more than critical observations and wordless smirks. Fortunately, Abby's come a long way in managing her anger. If he pushes the envelope much farther, though, she's going to have to set some boundaries.

They reach a level off in the road, probably to the horses' relief. A mountain town opens up before them. A wood sign on the side of the road reads 'Owl's Head.' There's a lot of low, wooden buildings, but what stands out the most is the wooden bell tower, four or five stories tall, in the middle of town.

Clement surveys the town before them. His long, straight brown hair hangs messily, reaching his shoulders. He's got a red bandana tied as a headband, and he's wearing a green canvas coat. It's cooler up here, but Abby's managing in her preferred layered tank tops.

He turns to her, wearing his perpetual smirk. "Excited yet?" His beard is sparse. Abby wouldn't advise it, herself.

"This is a regular route, right?" she asks. "Get many infected, anymore?"

He cocks his head. "Town's mostly clear. Never know when they'll wander down out of the hills, though. The hell knows where they keep coming from."

Abby can't tell if he's earnest or if he's just trying to intimidate her, but she'll be on alert either way.

They pass the first buildings, some humble wooden houses and what looks to be a general store. The streets are paved, but cracked to hell. Bushes and tall, yellow grass dominate all spaces untouched by concrete. Even the road, in some places.

"You know it's not a sure thing, right?" asks Clement, eyes narrow. "You, out here."

"I'm aware."

"We don't give just anyone who thinks they're tough run these trails. This job is important."

"I'm not just anyone, and I understand important."

"Is that so?" Clement pretends to surveil the buildings around them. "So why'd you leave the Fireflies? Was that not important?"

The coals of anger redden for a moment. "We did what we set out to do."

"Right," he replies in a tone that suggests that's bullshit, "and they had no more use for you?"

"No, but they let me go anyway. I worked hard, while I was with them." She turns to him directly. "I don't really know what you're getting at. You're aware I grew up in the Fireflies, right?"

"Easy now," he replies, with a dangerous undertone.

Abby turns away, focusing on her breathing like Townes taught her. Thankfully, they ride on in silence for a bit. Other than the sound of birds, the town is silent. Seems unlikely they're going to run into infected.

"So what's with you and the kid?" Clement asks.

Abby's hackles rise, but her features stay even. "We look out for each other. We've traveled a lot together, since Seattle. That's it."

"Those scars on his cheeks," says Clement, with eyes that make it clear he's trying to get under her skin, "I heard he was one of those fanatics."

A spasm goes across Abby's face. She cocks her head. "Not anymore. And that story will stay between me and him. He's like a brother to me, now. You got any younger siblings?"

Still eyeing her, he nods.

"Then be careful what you say about him."

It's her first open challenge, but if it was what he was looking for, he doesn't press it. Infuriatingly, he smirks again, and turns back to the road in front of them.

They're coming up on the bell tower building. It's two stories, and pretty long. Abby sees a sign reading Weathervane Hotel. The first floor windows are all boarded up.

"Let's tie up," says Clement.

They dismount near the base of the tower. Next to it, there are tall, wooden double doors with big glass panes leading into the building. It appears to be the main entrance.

"Where's the checkpoint?" asks Abby.

Clement points up to the top of the bell tower. He walks up to the double doors and pulls them open, walking in without hesitation. Abby follows.

It's the lobby of the hotel. Everything's made of various types of wood. There's a long counter along the back with old fashioned tills, various rotting rugs and furniture, a couple wooden tables, and a large elk head mounted above a huge, cobblestone fireplace. There are uncovered windows higher in the room, and it's fairly well lit.

Clement walks around a corner on their left. This section of wall is a different type of wood. Abby follows. There's a door set into it, around the corner. It also looks more old fashioned, like the rest of the building was built around this structure sometime later.

"The tower?" Abby asks.

"That's right." Clement is standing in front of the door, but he doesn't open it.

"What's up?"

Clement looks her face up and down. "There's a wing," he inclines his head, "back a ways."

"What about it?"

"Only part of the building we never cleared."

If he's waiting for something Abby doesn't know what. "Is there a reason to?"

"Bound to be more supplies. Clearing infected can only make the area safer."

"Do you really think we should?" says Abby.

"Are you scared?"

That doesn't make Abby angry, just annoyed. Of course she is, but it also has nothing to do with it. It's not how she makes decisions. She can't afford for it to be. And if he were to say he weren't scared, it would say a lot about him.

"A few hours ago, Jones asked me what I think about risks, and I told him 'you pick the right ones.'"

He looks her face up and down. "And?"

She turns, exhaling in exasperation. She knows he's not going to stop testing her until he's satisfied, so they should probably just get it over with. "It's good."

He waits.

"Let's clear it."

Clement raises his eyebrows, then proceeds across the lobby and into a dim hallway, and Abby follows. Fifteen feet into the hallway they turn on their flashlights automatically. The doors are all closed, and it's pretty dark. They walk on for a little while, taking a couple turns through the long building. They reach a T intersection. Light filters in through the cracks in the boarded windows in front of them. To the left is a single hotel room and a dead end. To the right are a barricaded pair of double doors. Clement looks at Abby.

Without further ado, Abby walks over and starts pulling down the furniture barring the door. Clement joins her wordlessly. After they pull away the last couch together, the new pile of furniture behind them blocks two thirds of the hallway, but there's still room to pass, quickly, if necessary.

"Well," says Clement, pistol in hand, "be my guest."

Abby hates that she feels like she needs to impress this prick, but the fact is that she's nervous. Then she thinks about the demolished building in Seattle that she and Lev had miraculously climbed down through after the skyway disaster, and there's just no way this can be half as bad.

Abby pulls out her pistol, lays a hand on the doorknob, and pushes. The door opens easily and quietly, which is a good start.

The hallway beyond is much like this one. There's enough light from the boarded windows to leave their flashlights off, which will help for stealth.

Since they're ostensibly here to gather supplies as well as clear infected, Abby stealthily and firmly tries door handles as they pass them. The first one is locked, the second one barricaded pretty hard. The third one opens.

It's pretty standard. A bathroom on the left, a bed visible. Abby steps inside. She notices a cabinet that might offer something, then her next step makes the floorboard creak. A beat later, a runner walks into view in investigate. It rears back in surprise. Abby points up and blows its dome.

Abby's muscles are taut. The gunshot could draw more infected. She turns her head to listen for footsteps.

Clement's right behind her. "Not bad." Apparently he thought she was looking for approval, but she ignores him.

In the distance, she can indeed hear an agitated runner, and, unless she's imagining it, some clicks. Clement catches on at that point. They wait a few seconds, but there are no sounds of approach.

Abby looks at him. "You still like this?"

"It's what we do."

They find a bottle of isopropyl and some decent clothes in the room, and move on.

Most of the doors Abby tries are impassable, but now she's a lot more concerned about roaming infected. They approach an open area on the interior of the building. It's a four way intersection with a large pillar in the middle. Light filters in from the outer hallways, so there's still visibility. An infected walks into view from the left. Abby dips down and crouches behind a small table.

The runner plods on slowly, unaware. It passes behind the pillar. As Abby creeps up to the pillar, she sees another runner at the end of the hallway, but it's not looking her way. She waits, and eventually she hears the closer one lurch away from the pillar a few steps, at which point she moves, gets behind it, grabs it and opens its throat. She lays the body down.

Clement moves to the wall by the hallway, just around the corner, out of view. Abby does the same on the other side. She peeks. The infected at the end of the hall is looking their way now. She looks around, grabs a small vase from a table next to her, and tosses it into the entrance of the hallway. It lands on the threadbare carpet with a bump and rolls to a stop.

The runner sees and hears, and to her relief, he seems to be the only one. Not fully activated, it moves forward to investigate. Clement looks bewildered. Abby's got her combat knife out, and the longer they keep this quiet, the better.

It arrives at the vase and stares at it in fascination, only three or four feet away from Abby. All at once, she steps out from around the corner and when it looks at her in surprise, she rams her knife up under its jaw to the hilt. It dies instantly, its weight falling on her arm. Supporting it, she lays the body to the ground and retracts the knife, wiping away the blood as best she can.

A quick glance at Clement tells her he is impressed, but he quickly hides it. Abby proceeds down the hallway. Clement opens one of the doors behind her, but Abby shoots him a look. There are occasional clicks further in, closer now. She gestures with her head. He closes the door and follows her.

Around the corner, she finally spots it. It's facing their way. She curses under her breath. It's not time for this to get loud yet. She looks around. Some parts of the wall are damaged from previous fighting. She grabs a jutting piece of wood and removes it. It's small, but probably enough for a clicker. Clement is concealed behind a barricade. She joins him there, then tosses the wood over it into the clicker's line of perception.

It makes a startled sound, then indeed moves forward to investigate in its strange, unnatural gait. It finds the exact piece of wood and studies it, cocking its head in puzzlement.

There's enough room for Abby to get behind it, but when she's still three feet away, the floor creaks again.

It whips around, and a shock goes through Abby. Then, she does something she's never done before, she rears back and pistol whips it as hard as she can in its fungal plating.

The blow lands and the clicker staggers back into the wall. She takes aim and puts three quick shots into its head, and it goes limp to the floor.

Sure enough, at that more runners sound up, in more than one direction. She can hear at least one clicker, too.

"Weapons up," Abby growls.

Two runners appear at the end of the hallway and make her, but she can hear footsteps behind her as well, so she retreats into the hallway where Clement is, holstering her pistol and pulling out her assault rifle.

The runners are charging, as expected, but right before they enter view Abby hears a clicker turn the corner behind them. She looks back at it. "Clement!" she barks.

The runners burst around the corner and Abby goes into drive mode. The assault rifle starts barking, in burst fire mode. The first takes two in the chest and one in the face, the next takes three in the torso, and the last takes two. The first two go down but the third is staggering toward her still. She gives it a powerful kick to the chest and it lands on its back, she puts another burst into it and it's down.

The clicker is screaming now and flailing toward Clement. He's got his shotgun leveled at it, and waits until it's almost on him to pull. The pellets fill the clicker's chest, and it spasms and goes down.

There's more screaming behind walls, in the rooms around them, there's pounding on doors. It's unnerving, but those infected shouldn't be a threat. The problem is the noise they're making.

"You giving me orders now?" Clement asks her.

It's absurd to Abby. "You let me lead, and now is not the time—"

More footsteps are approaching.

"I say we take one of these rooms till it quiets down," Clement says.

"They could trap us in there—"

Abby is interrupted by three more runners turning the corner, which is manageable, but then she hears the distant grunt of a bloater. A quick glance at Clement says he heard it, too.

The runners make their appearance behind them, Abby turns and starts firing. They go down, the last one getting within ten feet of them, but it also drains Abby's clip. More clicks from the same direction they came from.

"Come on, motherfucker!" says Clement, shouldering his shotgun. The clicker appears, hesitating at the entrance to the hallway. Then there are heavy footfalls, and Abby and Clement look the other way.

In the T intersection where Abby killed the first clicker stands a massive bloater. It's close to seven feet tall, limbs swollen with age. Half its vile, fungal flesh is twisted and blackened from some old burn wound. It gurgles a few muted clicks, then issues a deafening roar at them.

"Clicker!" calls Abby, desperately reloading her rifle. She locks the mag in and chambers the first round, but right as she's about to pull the trigger, she sees the bloater lobbing an acid pod at them. "Shit, dive!"

Abby does, but Clement doesn't follow in time. The pod bursts right next to him in a cloud of acid.

"Agh!" Clement cries out, stumbling forward onto the ground. His left hand and part of his face are already turning an angry red.

The clicker is now staggering forward, flailing toward Clement. Abby scrambles to her feet just as it's about to fall on him. She grabs it around some ridge of corrupted flesh on its shoulder and yanks hard, throwing it onto its back. She manages to put all three bullets into its face, and it spasms and goes limp.

Clement climbs to his feet, looking furious. He's lost his shotgun. The bloater is advancing, and Abby starts pelting it with AR rounds that sink into its torso plates, but it doesn't even slow it. In fact, it starts to charge.

"Run, run!"she shouts.

They turn at the same time and sprint back the way they came. They pass through the open area with the central pillar and turn back toward the entrance to the wing. There's a massive crash, and Abby turns to see the bloater has collided with the pillar, blasting through the wood and drywall, stopped only by the central support beam. It can still hear them, though, and it resumes its charge. Infected are screaming behind many of the doors now.

They're tearing back the way they came in a full sprint, but the bloater is surprisingly fast. They reach the double doors and Clement goes to open them, but there's something wrong with the handle. Abby turns, the bloater is within line of sight.

"Fuck, hurry!"

"It won't fucking open, shoot it!"

Clement backs away but Abby doesn't bother with her gun, she moves forward and puts all her weight into a kick near the door's latch, and it flies open with a bang. Clement rushes through, and Abby follows. Right as they're about to reach the intersection leading back to the lobby, there's a flicker in the corner of Abby's eye, a pop and a rush of air.

"Gah!" cries Clement, in the middle of the cloud. Abby squeezes her eyes shut but has to move through it herself. The acid mist sends a sharp sting across her whole face and both of her arms.

Outside the cloud, they cough and spit. Abby opens her eyes, thankful to still have her vision, until she realizes where they are.

Disoriented, they stumbled through the acid straight into the dead end she had noticed earlier.

There's a terrible crunching sound as the bloater pushes through the still closed double door as if it were an annoyance. Blocked by the barricade they downstacked earlier, it pushes mightily against it with its arm, sending furniture flying. Abby ducks under a chair. By the time she gets her feet, she can tell it's about to charge again.

Heart pounding, she drops her assault rifle to the ground and pulls out her shotgun. With no time to waste, she aims and starts blasting as the four hundred pound monstrosity pounds up the hallway at them.

Her rounds don't stop it and Abby finds a wall at her back. Clement is next to her, looking terrified. Right as the bloater is about to reach them, Abby sees her dad's face.

She twists desperately, and then is slammed by a massive impact and a deafening clamor that lasts for several seconds.

She's completely disoriented. She almost loses consciousness, but hangs on. She's on the ground. She rolls to the side and there's a shooting pain in her left shoulder. She looks, and a sharp piece of wood is sticking out of it. She yanks it out and tosses it. She manages to find her feet.

She's in a small square room. There's a light source somewhere far above. The bloater is there, too, and it also seems stunned by what had just happened. There's a gigantic hole in the wall the bloater had just bowled through. Clement is laying in the hole. Abby had been pushed all the way through. He's conscious, struggling to his feet.

Then the bloater grunts, and turns to them. There's a staircase next to Clement. He and Abby see it at the same time.

Instinctively, they scramble to their feet and sprint for it, tearing up the stairs as fast as they can. The bloater follows them. It falls onto the lower stairs, perplexed, but it only deepens its rage. It finds its feet and begins climbing up after them, bellowing mindlessly. The old wooden stairs creak in protest at its weight. It grabs the hand railing, which snaps like a toothpick, but it keeps climbing.

Abby's heart is pounding. She doesn't know what happened to her shotgun. She doesn't even know if she has enough ammo to take this monster down. So they just keep climbing.

Abby realizes they're in the bell tower. At the tenth or twelfth landing, they run into a gate. It separates the rest of the tower from the final stairs to the top, where old wooden beams support a huge bronze bell. Clement tries the door, but it's locked. He starts digging desperately for the keys. Finally finding them, he pulls them out too quickly, and they fly into the air, over the railing, and down through the empty air below.

For a second, they're both nonplussed. Abby looks at the gate. It's old, but it's steel. They can't force it.

The bloater roars again, still climbing. It's only a floor away from them. Clement looks at Abby, scared, stunned. He doesn't know what to do. Neither does Abby.

She looks, and there are number of long, heavy looking ropes suspended from the bell structure at the top. Without thinking, she picks one, puts a boot on the railing, jumps and grabs it.

She swings, slamming into the railing opposite, then swinging back. "Come on!" she calls to Clement.

He looks at her like she's insane, and maybe she is, but the bloater is closing in on Clement.

"I can't fucking do that!" he cries desperately.

"You have to!"

The bloater reaches the landing below Clement, growling and reaching for him.

"God damn it!" Abby bellows. She uses her legs and swings.

With all the force she can summon she plants both her feet into the bloater, kicking it backward. It stumbles back into the landing against the wall. It roars in anger.

It searches about for Abby and seems to sense her. It reaches out for her.

Abby starts swinging toward it again, unable to stop it. She rears back her legs and tries to kick it again, but this time she's unable to force it back. Its bloated hand grabs her pant leg by the thigh.

"Fuck!" she cries.

As it moves forward to get a better hold of her, its body pushes against the hand rail, which snaps with a series of loud cracks, then falls into the open air.

It doesn't let go of her, and Abby is jerked hard as it rips a huge chunk out of her pant leg. Her hands burn with their strain on the rope, but she manages to keep hold.

The bloater tumbles through the air bouncing off the stairs, taking huge chunks of wood with it, spinning another way and hitting the stairs on the other side, before finally crashing down into the wood planks at the bottom. More wood clatters to the bottom, and then for a few seconds, it's silent.

Clement and Abby look at each other in disbelief. Then there's a groan. Down below, the bloater, stunned by the fall, is rousing itself. Abby looks at Clement.

"We're going to half to—"

But she's unable to finish, because there's another loud cracking sound from above, and Abby drops six inches. She freezes, and looks up.

The old wood of the large beam supporting the massive bronze bell atop the tower is splitting. For a fraction of a second, she knows she needs to swing to safety, then the beam gives way entirely.

The rope goes slack and she starts to drop. She shouts in terror and desperation. Twisting in the air, she sees a handrail within reach and she manages to get her arms over it. It slams into her upper chest heavily and there's a cracking sound, but the rail bears her.

The bell sounds deafeningly as it falls and impacts pieces of wood. Debris is falling everywhere. Something heavy barrels into her wounded shoulder, causing her to yelp, but she keeps her hold. She feels the air inches behind her displaced by the movement of massive object. Moments later, there is a colossal explosion of sound from below.

Seconds pass, and Abby is just clenching the handrail with all her might. She's close to snapping it herself. Her face is wet and she realizes she's crying. But she's alive.

Panting, eyes wide, she gets a leg up on the corner of a step, then the other, then throws herself over the railing onto the stairway. She looks up and sees Clement, a story up from her, staring. He's dumbfounded. Stunned, he starts descending the stairs toward her.

Shaking, Abby finds her way to her feet. She puts a trembling hand on the railing and peers over it.

For the first time since 'entering' the tower, Abby feels a familiar wave of vertigo at the height. Far below, she can't make sense of what she's seeing for a second. When she does, her stomach lurches.

Clement approaches behind her. He's still stunned, and neither of them have anything to say. They climb down the stairs. At a couple places where the bloater had impacted them the stairs are severely damaged and they have to jump a short ways, but the remaining stairs hold up.

At the bottom, they're greeted by a tremendous mess of dust, broken wood, and blood sprayed over everything.

The gigantic bell, probably over a thousand pounds, had landed on the bloater's upper torso and completely collapse it, half burying it under the floorboards of the tower. Its legs jut out at strange angles.

Still with nothing to say, Clement walks forward and bends down, picking something up. After a second, Abby realizes it's the keys. He walks over to the door, inserts a key, and opens it. Abby follows him, and they're back in the well-lit lobby.

For a time, the only sound is their mutual panting. Abby's hands are still shaking. She places them on her hips.

That was so fucked up. That might be her new number one near-death experience. Top three, at least.

Suddenly, Clement rounds on her and grabs her by the collar. "What the hell was that?"

Abby's speachless for a second. "What the hell was that?" She frowns. "What the hell was that? I don't fucking know, Clement. A fucking shitshow, I guess! Get your hand off me!" She slaps it away.

"That's how you handle infected, Abby?" Clement's eyes are wild. He's off balance, it's obvious, but he keeps pushing. "Because that was insane."

"I didn't even want to go in there!" Abby retorts loudly. "You practically made me. You're leading this patrol!"

"Didn't stop you from giving me orders in there." There's a danger in his eyes, like he wants her to give him a reason.

"It was life or death!"

"Yeah?" he says. He rubs his chin, eyes darting about nervously. "Life or death, huh? Like with Joel?"

That brings Abby to a full stop. A familiar chill creeps into her gut. She goes to respond, but no words come out.

"Joel used to be one of our best. Tommy, too." Clement's grimacing, but his eyes are… terrible. Rage, fear, sadness. "Till you came around."

Abby's lip trembles. If she balls her fists any harder she's going to pull a muscle. She takes a few breaths.

She reaches out and grabs him by his collar, pulling him close. His face contorts like he's going to try something, until she speaks.

"Have you talked about Joel with Ellie?"

He looks her face up and down, curling his lips.

"Would you say that if Ellie was right there?" Abby points.

He has nothing for her but hateful look.

"Because I talked to Ellie," says Abby. "About Joel. And if you fucking can't…" Abby's too angry to continue speaking. She shoves him away.

"You're a killer," he sputters.

"Takes one to know," says Abby. This fucking kid has no business being in charge of others. Abby takes a deep breath. She has to let this out. "Why don't you just fucking admit you hate the fact that I just saved your life?"

"Yeah?" he says. "Yeah? I wonder—" He reaches and pulls out his knife, moving toward her.

Abby holds up a hand and starts backing up, but before she can speak, someone else does.

"That's enough, I think."

Abby turns and there's an older man with graying blonde hair holding a rifle across his torso casually. She whips her pistol out of its holster and trains it on him.

"Easy now, Abby. It's me. It's Earl."

Abby does recognize him, then. She's never spoken to him, but he's one of the older patrollers. She's seen him in town before.

She pulls her pistol back smartly, pointing it into the air. She stumbles for a second. "What the hell?"

"Good question," he responds easily. He's standing in front of the door to the bell tower, like he'd just come through it. He looks over his shoulder to the carnage behind him. "Jesus," he says simply.

"You were tailing us?" Clement asks. He's still unsteady, Abby can hear the nerves in his voice.

"Not precisely. Scouting out new potential trails, but Jones told me to stay near your route. Check in, if anything seemed off. Sure 'nough, I hear a couple gunshots and I think I ought to take a closer look. Seems good I did."

Earl steps toward them casually until he's the same distance they are to each other. "Whistler, put that knife away, now," Earl continues in an easy tone.

Clement complies, still visibly nervous though he's trying not to be.

"You know that's your second strike," Earl says to him. "And a bad one."

"So what, then?" asks Clement.

"So I'll join you two for the remainder of this patrol, and we can talk to Jones when we're back in town. Alrighty?" he asks, looking at Abby.

Abby's in no position to disagree. She nods.

"We can, ah… figure out a new checkpoint for this area later. And I'd like the story, while we ride." Earl looks over his shoulder again. "I imagine it's a keeper."

"Sorry I trained on you," says Abby.

"'Sokay. A good instinct. Thank you for not pulling the trigger, kindly."

"I'm sorry, Earl," says Clement with some difficulty. "That was… really bad, back there."

"You're apologizing to me?" Earl asks. "Let's get moving." He walks casually toward the entrance.

Abby and Clement meet eyes one last time, then move to follow.

Ellie's kicked back, reading Savage Starlight #12 for the hundredth time. It's one of her favorites, the one where she navigates through the space battle with slick starship maneuvers. She's on the frame where she drives the Nebula Seven right through the plasma of another ship that was just destroyed while evading Elek Calhoon's Predator.

"So awesome," she muses. "I'm definitely going to have one someday." She has an absurd thought and her eyes widen. "Yeah, in my next life!"

As she promised Maria, she spent the day readying her gear for patrol. As she topped up her supplies and filled her pack like she used to, then came home and dismantled and cleaned all her guns, and filled her extra clips, her nerves actually decreased. By the time she was done, she knew she was ready for it. She's looking forward to the look on Abby's face when she realizes they're going out together.

Then she starts thinking about dinner. She lays the comic on her chest. She could bum again at Dina's. She scratches her head. Bad taste, probably, but she's such a good cook…

As she's thinking, there's a knock on her door. She looks up, curious. She lays the comic to the side, climbs out of bed and answers it.

Abby's looking worse for the wear. She's got bruises and scrapes all over, and a large bandage on her shoulder. Her skin is puffy and reddish. She looks exhausted.

"Holy shit, dude," says Ellie. "What happened?"

To that, Abby responds only with an open look.

Ellie frowns. "Was it bad? Was it Clement? Dude, 'fess up—"

"I'd love to, but can I come in first?" Abby gestures.

"Yeah, yeah, come in."

Ellie makes way and Abby walks in, looking around. She plunks down in one of the chairs around her little dining table, making it look tiny.

Ellie sits on the bed. "Abby, what happened? You look… not great."

"Do you promise to believe me?" Abby asks.

Ellie just frowns.

And from there, Abby just goes. Ellie is fully prepared to be angry with Clement, but she's not surprised about his little test. It doesn't sound so bad to begin with, but it gets a lot worse, really fast. By the time the bell drops, Ellie's mouth is hanging open.

"That can't be real," she says.

"You promised to believe me," Abby says, chuckling absurdly. "Have I ever told you I'm not wild about heights?"

"What about the bloater?"

"The bell popped it like a balloon."

Ellie's eyes go even wider. "Holy shit, that's gnarly."

"Yeah, well…" says Abby, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "I figured it was over, and then when we're safe again, Clement just flips out."

"Like how?"

"He got all aggressive with me, tried to blame me for what happened. He—" She screws up her face. She's avoiding looking at Ellie. "He brought Joel into it."

Instantly Ellie's mood changes. "He what?"

Abby sniffs. Her face is level, but it's getting easier and easier to see through. "He brought up what I did. He called me a killer."

"Yeah, he fucking did?" Ellie says it almost like it's funny.

"Look, I shut him down, Ellie. Then he got out his knife and started to come at me."

"The piece of shit fucking pulled on you?"

"Yeah, and maybe it would have been bad, but all of the sudden Earl was there."

"Huh?"

"Jones must have suspected there might be trouble. Had Earl stay nearby. He heard the action, and came to investigate. He defused things. He led patrol for the rest of the day, then took us back to Jones."

"And is that piece of shit in jail?"

"Hold on, hold on. Jones did dress him down. Stripped him of patrol lead, said if he ever wanted to go out again he needed to apologize, which he… I mean he made an effort, I don't care, I know what I saw. He doesn't have the nerves he thinks he does. Which is a dangerous mindset."

Ellie can't help but think of that stupid fucking kid from Burley. The one whose life Clint had spared, just for him to have more people sent after us for no god damn reason.

"Jones said he'd send him out again, but only with Maria's approval, and he sent him to see her right there. And he probably won't go out with me anymore."

"Okay," says Ellie, still swallowing back anger.

"Jones talked to me, too. Said I should have known better. Said 'we never run clears like that with just two people.' Need at least a team, and of course I didn't argue, that's how it would have been with the Fireflies. I'm—" Abby rubs her jaw. "He said I'm lucky to be alive and he's right."

Ellie just sits there with it, watching Abby, who's avoiding her eyes. She's not wrong, and it really undercuts the excitement of the story. Ellie frowns, and she realizes she's angry that that was Abby's first patrol. But she did survive. Ellie's thankful. She decides that's okay.

When Ellie doesn't say anything, Abby finally looks up. She seem a little surprised, uncomfortable.

"That's not what it's supposed to be like," says Ellie. "The point is to keep people safe, not put them in psychotic danger."

"Right."

"Can only get better from there, right?"

Abby scoffs. "I imagine."

"Are you off duty for a while, then?" Ellie gestures to Abby's battered body.

"I thought I might be, but Jones said I could go out tomorrow if I feel like it."

"Well, what did you say?"

"I… maybe I shouldn't have but I want to fucking impress him so I said yes."

"You really feel like you can?"

"After a good meal and a long ass night of sleep, yeah, probably."

"Good. We'll ride at dawn, then."

"Huh?"

Ellie grins. "I talked to Maria today. I'm going back out tomorrow. You'll be with me."

Abby stares. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I'll show you how it should actually be. I know all about that shit, I did it for years. That alright?"

Abby's head is cocked. Ellie's getting better at getting her goat, and Abby acts like it annoys her, but Ellie's not convinced. Abby scoffs again. "Like you said. Can only get better from there."

Ellie smiles, not too big. "Good."