A heavy, impenetrable cloud of blackness meets Ellie as she regains consciousness. Her whole body throbs, mouth dry, disoriented murmurs fading in and out as her head spins.
The whispers become sharper, clicking, louder and louder until panic sends her reeling, fiery pain erupting from her ribcage. It's not over. They're still outside the cabin, still under attack in the pouring rain, and if she doesn't get up now, Dina will be dead. She can't have that. She won't have that.
"Fuck… you!" she snarls through the agony. She reaches for a weapon that isn't there and flails in the dark, shoulders pinned down. "Get off of me, you bastard!"
"Ellie! Elle it's me, Dina! You're okay. You're okay."
The Clicker's face, a blurred mess of orange mushrooms, softens as Dina's silhouette appears above her, but it's only brief. Pain overwhelms her and the blackness pulls her in again.
"Dina?" Ellie mumbles back, but her voice is weak, distant. She's not sure if it's her voice at all.
She sinks back down, down, down. It's like drowning; dark and unable to breathe, her chest compressed with weight. Something bright pokes through the blackness. It's the kind of white that only comes with winter, stark and cold, and yet brimming with death. Wind howls through flimsy wooden walls, flames sizzle in powdery snow, and smoke wafts in a thick, sinister layer above her head.
A voice. Soft, perverse, and oily comes from deeper inside the burning restaurant. Ellie recognizes it immediately, skin crawling and drawing her knife, unable to erase the voice from her deepest nightmares. She creeps around the broken dishes and spots David's hunched, lanky figure strolling down the aisle, machete in hand.
"I know you're not infected," he purrs. "No one that's infected fights this hard to stay alive…"
Not again. Not again. Rage and disgust rise in the back of her throat. She has to get away from him, shimmying around the opposite corner, towards a haphazard stack of luggage near the kitchen. She inches across the slick tile floor when she sees the bloody deer tracks, leading out to a hole in the building and the whirling blizzard outside. It's the eight-point buck.
"You know, you keep surprising me," David croons, suddenly behind her. Ellie shuffles away for the dining room again as he rounds the corner. "It's a shame you wouldn't come around. Give up now and I promise to be quick. Promise."
"Yeah, go fuck yourself," Ellie mutters. It's the last thing she would ever do. She creeps towards the statuesque deer, standing there and waiting for her. If she can make it to him, she can escape. Get back to Joel, and get the fuck out of this place.
"It didn't have to be this way, you know," David purrs. He stands between her and the deer. "You brought this on yourself. You did."
Ellie launches from her hiding place and drives her knife into his stomach, twisting it as he smacks her away with the hard handle of the machete. She stumbles as he swings, shattering glass cups left on the table. Ellie coughs, the pain in her ribs still there, disappearing through the thickening smoke and out of range.
"I knew you had heart. Y'know, it's okay to give up. Ain't no shame in it. I guess not… Just not your style, is it?"
A ferocious snarl rips her off her feet and pins her to the floor. David is gone, an enormous wolf snapping black jowls in her face, saliva flecking her cheeks as she reaches for the machete, just out of reach. Searing pain shoots in a familiar place of her right arm, the screams of the Infected just beyond the restaurant walls, as if knowing she had become one of them.
"You can try beggin'," David pants, torn somewhere between wolf and man. "You think you know me? You have no idea what I'm capable of."
Her hand finally closes around the machete. A pathetic yelp and she slaughters the beast, warm blood sticking to her hands and splashing on her chest as she brings the machete down over and over and over again, mutilitating the wolf-man into gory, unrecognizable pieces.
That is, until she spots the blue bracelet around a slim, severed arm. The machete clatters to the floor.
The shadow of the deer draws near. Joel leans down, grazing his thumb along what remains of Dina's delicate hand. He looks to Ellie.
"You need to be careful, baby girl."
No. No, no, no. That's not what happened and that's not real. It can't be. It's a nightmare that brings her to the surface again, into a room lit only by flickering candles, distancing herself from the subconscious terrors.
Or, so she thinks. The very wolf from her nightmare stands with two bloody paws on her chest, pressing onto her swollen ribs. Bright orange eyes like a Clicker's gleam, curious and hungry, a subtle growl in every breath. It wants something.
"Hey, your girlfriend's awake."
The wolf vanishes. Ellie bolts up at the unfamiliar voice, her head screaming at the motion, and reaches for the pistol on the nightstand, pointing at a strange woman standing at the foot of her bed. Everything hurts, but even only half-awake she can still switch off the safety and curl a finger around the trigger. The gun trembles in her hand.
"Who the fuck are you?" she rasps.
The woman throws her hands up in the air. "Easy."
Something suddenly moves to her right and Ellie swings the pistol to it, aiming at a little boy with a blue baseball cap.
"Mom?"
"Get away from her, Liam." A cold, metallic shotgun cocks and the woman shoves the barrel at Ellie. "I swear to God if you shoot him, I will blast your brains all over this goddamn room."
"Ellie!" Dina exclaims from the doorway, only now walking into the room. She dumps a metal tray of dishes onto a spare nightstand. "Ellie, please, put the gun down."
"Her first," Ellie spits, jerking the pistol's nose at the woman.
"Not until you take your gun off my kid!"
"Ellie, listen to me. She's not going to hurt us," Dina presses, hands outstretched and easing her way towards them, as if she were stepping between the fight of two wild animals and not people. "She's a friend."
At this, Ellie hesitates. Hazy confusion returns as she lowers the gun, her breathing slowing and the sharp pain in her ribs returning. For a moment, she's not sure if she's still dreaming, catching a whiff of lilac as Dina sits down on the mattress next to her, taking the pistol and laying it back on the nightstand where it belongs. She presses the back of her hand to Ellie's forehead.
"Your fever's finally breaking," she comments, ignoring Ellie's hard glare at the woman over her shoulder. The woman glares back, tucking the shotgun under her arm. The little boy clings to her cargo pants.
"Who the fuck is she, Dina?" Ellie asks, still bristling.
"I told you, she's a friend," Dina replies. "Her name's Rachel. She's the one that saved us from the Infected."
"And the kid?"
Rachel takes a step forward. "His name is Liam. You're welcome, by the way."
"We didn't need your help," Ellie snaps.
"Oh, so you had it all under control?" Rachel scoffs. "You were lucky we were passing through when we saw the flares."
"Flares?" Ellie echoes, looking to Dina.
Dina fishes out the flare gun from the ranger's messenger bag next to the nightstand. "I didn't know what else to do, Ellie."
Ellie turns back to Rachel. "So… You, what? Take daily walks in the mountains for fun?"
Rachel is not amused. "If you really need to know, we're on our way to Seattle. The mountains are the best way through."
"You mean the only way."
"Hey!" Dina exclaims. "Will you two cut it out? We're all on the same side, here. There's no reason to fight."
"I'm not fighting," Ellie is quick to reply.
Rachel crosses her arms. "Neither am I."
"Then chill out, both of you," Dina says, voice sharp with irritation.
Ellie leans back against the pile of flattened pillows propped up behind her. "Fine."
"Fine," Rachel snorts, and heads for the door. "Come, Liam. Let's give these two some privacy."
Liam lingers for a moment, his big blue eyes on Ellie, when Rachel calls his name again. He toddles after her with a disappointed, "Okay."
They close the door behind them. Dina gets up and retrieves the serving tray she had set aside when she walked in, placing it on the nightstand next to Ellie. She pours hot water from a dented, metal percolator into a chipped mug with a cartoon bear on the front. Cheesy lettering reads Only YOU can prevent forest fires!
"How are you feeling?" Dina asks.
It's a question she's asked plenty of times before, but this time, it feels… different. Somewhere between fighting off Infected and fever dreams, Ellie lost her shirt and flannel, now lying exposed in a black tank top. Something rubbery radiates warmth under the blankets, resting against her inflamed ribs, now wrapped in crude bandages. Pink sears her cheeks at the realization that Dina was probably the one to undress her.
But then she notices the scar on her right arm is bandaged, too.
Her heart jumps to her throat. Dina knows. She has to know by now. It would be impossible for her not to.
Dina shoves the mug and two small, red pills at her. "Take it."
"Dina-"
"Take it, Ellie," Dina repeats, more forceful this time, and with a tenacious scowl, Ellie does. The pills are chalky and astringent, and she washes it down with a pungent, citrusy tea from the mug. If she had to guess, it was made from pine needles and the juniper bushes outside. She coughs, pain stabbing her in her side.
Dina shakes her head. "Do you have any idea how stubborn you are? Why didn't you tell me you were hurt this bad? Your ribs are fractured. You're lucky they didn't break and hit anything major."
But Ellie doesn't care about that. She sets the mug down and throws the covers aside, starting to get up. "Dina, we need to get back to Jackson."
"No. You need to rest."
"I'm good."
"Ellie," Dina snaps, putting a hand to her shoulder and preventing her from standing. "You're not good and you know it."
"And who are you to stop me?"
"Will you just sit down and listen to me?" Dina pleads. "You're not invincible. You've been out for two days."
Ellie pauses. It doesn't feel like two days. One moment she was killing Infected in the rain, and the next she was waking up somewhere on the second floor of the cabin. "Two days?"
"Yeah. Which is why you need to take it easy. You're not ready to move around yet."
Ellie hates that she's right, her stubbornness alone wouldn't get her very far. Eventually she relents and tucks her legs back under the sweat-stained covers.
"So, what do you want me to do?" Ellie asks, frustrated, directing her glare out the window instead of at Dina.
"I want you to rest," Dina replies. "That's all. I swear."
Dina reaches for Ellie's hand, her thumb grazing her calloused palms. Her touch is tender and kind, pulling Ellie's glare away from the window and softening as their eyes meet.
"I was really worried about you," Dina says, her hand tightening. "I know you don't like her, but if Rachel hadn't come…"
"I know," Ellie replies, filling in the blanks as she closes her eyes, finally relaxing. It did feel better to lie back and just breathe, despite the nagging urgency to return to Jackson in the back of her mind. "What about you?"
"I'm… all right," Dina replies. She glances at Ellie's arm, wrapped in bandages. "All things considered, you know?"
She smiles, not questioning Ellie's hidden scar. Ellie nods, brow furrowed but pushing the revelation to the back of her mind. For some reason, she could just tell that now wasn't the time to discuss her infected condition.
"Yeah. I guess we're doing okay."
They sit there, listening to the pouring rain and gentle thunder. It's enough to lull Ellie back to sleep. Dina blows the candle out, but she doesn't leave, climbing up on the mattress and pulling the blankets over herself.
"I get nightmares," she whispers, as if sharing a bed was something to justify. She curls her body around Ellie's arm, as she had done in the hunting stand. Even in the dark and with a mild fever, Ellie feels herself blush, cheeks hot. She scoots aside to make more room.
"It's okay," Ellie replies, fixing her eyes to the dark ceiling. "I get them too."
The mountains trap the storm and it rains for two days straight. Water leaks through the ceiling and the chill sneaks in under the doorways. Ellie tries to sleep, listening to the gentle rushing of rain on the shingled roof, but every time she closes her eyes, the wolf from her nightmare appears.
Between the pain in her side, the candlelit room, and the bizarre dreams, she wonders if she is losing her mind.
"I've seen the signs," she remembers Dina saying. Did that mean whatever condition she had was getting worse? Ellie still couldn't fully comprehend what that condition even was, too distracted by the one that already coursed through her veins and sprouted all over her brain. She should be dead, and yet…
"There are a million ways we could've died today," Riley echoes from a distant memory. "And a million ways we could die before tomorrow."
Ellie forces herself to sit up. Her ribs still hurt, but not nearly on the scale that had landed her incapacitated in the first place. She can't stand wallowing in bed any longer. She needs to get moving.
Her bare feet touch the cold, wooden floor and she shuffles to a folding chair propped near her bed. She finds her jeans, mostly clean from mud but still stained with blood, but there's no sign of her flannel. Instead, she finds a green, mothballed dress shirt with the name Greenbriar embroidered in yellow on the breast pocket. She buttons it up, finding it a little big, but otherwise a suitable fit. It was by no means flattering, but it would do.
Crossing to the nightstand, she finds her knife and pistol tucked into the drawer. She knows just by holding the gun that the magazine is empty, spent on Infected, but she checks just in case, sighing as her efforts bear no fruit. One bullet in the chamber could have make all the difference down the road.
Down the road. Back to Jackson. Who knew how far off the beaten path they were now? And all of it unmarked, uncharted terrain.
But a hard road ahead isn't enough to deter her. Ellie scopes out the rest of the room for her belongings. For a moment, she panics, grabbing at the center of her chest and finding nothing there, but then she spots Riley's Firefly necklace hanging on the bedpost. She exhales and puts it on, back where it belongs.
Then, after extensive searching, Ellie pauses in the middle of the room. "Where the fuck are my shoes?"
Pots and pans bang outside in the hall, and waves of something hot and delicious wafts her way. Increasingly frustrated and now with hunger demanding her attention, Ellie opens the bedroom door and makes her way to the kitchen.
Before she even steps foot in the doorway, Rachel spots her from the dining table and stands up immediately. She picks up two bowls of food and nudges Liam on the shoulder. "Come. You can eat in the living room."
Dina, mid-stride with a third bowl of rice and beans, watches the exchange. She looks to Ellie. "What did you say to her?"
"Nothing," Ellie replies with a clueless shrug. She'd been bed-bound for the past four days. "She probably just doesn't like me."
"Or it may have something to do with you pointing your gun at Liam."
"What does she want? An apology?"
Dina gives her a knowing look.
Ellie rolls her eyes and throws her hands up. "Fine, fine. I'll talk to her."
A hot, dry fire crackles from the stone fireplace. Liam sits on the floor in front of it, his bowl of food ignored for a pair of Hot Wheels cars rolling around on the crummy carpet. Like the kitchen, Rachel spots her, this time standing up from her place on an overstuffed plaid couch. She steps forward, standing between Ellie and Liam, crossing muscular arms. She scowls with daggers in her blue eyes.
"Hmm?" is all she says from a deep, intimidating place in her throat.
"Look…" Ellie says carefully. "I'm sorry."
Rachel raises a single eyebrow. "For?"
"For… For pointing a gun at your son."
"Damn straight."
"Look, I just…" Ellie clenches her jaw and exhales through her nose, growing irritated. "I just wanted to apologize. That's all."
"You want to apologize?" Rachel says incredulously. She maintains her glare, but drops her arms, glancing over her shoulder at Liam. "All right. I need a favor. And I'm guessing you're better in a fight than your girlfriend."
It's an assumption that brings a red flush right to Ellie's cheeks. "She's not my-"
"Whatever," Rachel says with a dismissive wave of your hand. "Thing is, we can't go anywhere without more supplies. All that's here is food. There's a campground two miles away I'd like to check out. I'm thinking we go there, re-supply, and head out at tomorrow's first light."
She doesn't wait for Ellie's reply, peeking between one of the plywood sheets blocking the windows. "Rain's stopping. We should go before it gets dark."
"Uh, sure…" Ellie says and looks down at her bare toes. "But… I'm gonna need my shoes. And I'd like to eat."
Rachel's already counting shotgun shells. "Fine. Make it quick. Ten minutes tops."
Ellie curls her lip, but says nothing. She turns around and heads back into the kitchen. Dina looks up a copy of Natural Wildlife of Western Wyoming laid out in front of her. "So? How'd it go?"
"In ten minutes, we're going to gather supplies," Ellie mutters, downcast, shoveling her bowl of rice and beans into her mouth. "There's apparently a campground two miles from here."
"No way," Dina replies. "You still need to rest. You move around too much, you'll do more than fracture your ribs. Please. Don't go."
"I have to, Dina. I can't stay in that bed any longer." She swallows and pushes her empty bowl away. "And… Thank you. For taking care of me."
"You're welcome," Dina says softly. She reaches for Ellie's hand still curled around a fork missing the middle prong. Ellie's head rushes at the touch, licking her lips, and yet again she finds herself wanting to say something else, but a strange anxiety grips her throat and keeps her from saying anything at all. Dina smiles, but then frowns, squeezing her hand. "When will you be back?"
"Rachel says before dark." Ellie exhales, tension knotting in her stomach, squeezing Dina's hand back. Like when Dina laid her head on her shoulder, Ellie finds she doesn't want to let go. But she has to. "Have you seen my shoes?"
"I'll get them for you," Dina replies, standing, and heads into the living room. She grabs them and a pair of wool socks from the fireplace hearth, the canvas dry and the worn, rubber soles warm. She drops them at Ellie's feet.
Ellie leans over to put them on and pain ripples up her side, her hand reaching for it, as if she could stop it. She sits back up with a sharp inhale. "Ah, fuck."
"I've got it." Dina kneels down before Ellie can protest. She starts with the left foot, scrunching up the wool sock to pull it over Ellie's toes, moving up and folding the extra fabric around her ankle. She does the same with the right, and then pulls at the shoelaces, widening the tightened canvas. She starts with the left again, slipping the sneakers on with a gentle push. She double-knots them, tight but not too tight, and then looks up with eyebrows raised. "Well? What do you think?"
"Uh…" Ellie is torn between being embarrassed and mesmerized. "Thank you…again."
"You're welcome," Dina replies, just as soft as she did before, hands lingering on Ellie's knees.
Combat boots scuff near and Rachel pokes her head around the corner. "Hey. You ready?"
Dina springs back as Ellie stands. She's thankful for the dark, cloaking her reddening cheeks. She clears her throat. "Yeah. Let's go."
She follows Rachel for the busted front door, glancing at Dina one more time. Dina's dark, glassy eyes make her want to stay, but Ellie turns her back. She had a job to do.
Hiking to the campground with Rachel is everything Ellie expected it to be: grueling, downhill, and difficult. She trails behind Rachel, gritting her teeth and trying to ignore the dull throbbing in her side, not sure if she's more irritated at Rachel's ruthless pace or the fact that she struggles to keep up. Suggesting a break was out of the question.
Neither of them bother with small talk.
The steep, rocky trail spits them out to a small valley. A lonely guard shack with multi-colored flyers say things like WARNING: BEAR TERRITORY and CAMPING FEES are still taped to the cracked windows. Rachel and Ellie duck under the drawbar, shoes crunching on gravel, a different road leading into the campground. They cross over a wooden bridge floating on a flooded creek shrouded by willows and meandering between campsites.
"Keep your eyes peeled," Rachel snips, sliding her shotgun into a ready position. "There's bound to be more Infected here."
"No shit," Ellie mutters under her breath. They pass tent after tent, collapsed and blooming with vomit-colored mushrooms. The recent rain had dampened the signature yellow spore cloud, but Rachel ties a black bandanna around her face just in case. She walks over to the wet grass, cushioning the sound of their footsteps as she pokes each collapsed tent with the tip of her shotgun. She moves methodically, investigating one tent and marching over to the other, finger cradling the trigger every time.
"So… Where you headed?" Ellie asks, finally able to talk without her ribs complaining.
Rachel crouches down and lifts a tent flap. It's a whole family, skeletal arms still around each other and clothes hanging ragged. Black and white patches of mold cling to their bones, pink fungus sprouting from the marrow. She doesn't even flinch.
"Just start looking for supplies," Rachel replies in an annoyed deadpan tone, digging into another tent.
Ellie should have expected as much. She had the strong feeling that traveling with Rachel was a lot like her early days of traveling with Joel: distant, stern, and easily irritated. She makes herself useful by picking through a different row of tents, overcrowded on each site, as if spending a few days in the mountains would have spared people from becoming infected. There were still charcoal briquettes in barbecue stands, ice coolers tipped open with empty beer bottles scattered around, and picnic tables with torn, red-checkered tablecloths. Like everywhere else in the world, it was as if people had been going about their normal lives when the Cordyceps struck.
Ellie kneels in front of a neon green tent. Raindrops bounce off the vinyl and run down the sides as she pulls at the zipper, the metal teeth rusted. When it doesn't budge, she tears a hole with her knife. Spores coat the inside vinyl as she tugs out a duffel bag and two backpacks, taking care not to touch the dead bodies still resting in the moldy sleeping bags. She scavenges for food, medicine, and ammunition; anything that could keep them alive for just one more day.
She finds an award of some kind and an oversized photograph tucked in one of the backpacks. Black ink runs down the award certificate, edges frayed and wrinkled, reading:
The Boy Scouts of America
is proud to award the rank of
EAGLE SCOUT
to
Joseph A. Hamilton
Troop 437
Jackson, WY
A profile picture of a teenage boy around Ellie's age is printed into the corner of the award. Like the ink, the colors run down the page, washing out his smile and uniform. She compares it to the photo of the whole troop, and spots the boy, much taller than the rest. A blue badge gleams proudly from his khaki vest.
She decides to leave both the award and photograph in the tent, placing them next to one of the sleeping bags with a body still inside. She spots a blue badge pinned to a khaki vest through one of the tears, the stuffing sticking together with dried blood. She exhales at her discovery.
"Sorry, Joey."
She respectfully decides not to purge the rest of the tent, and nears the edge of the campground instead. The gravel path continues to a maintenance shed shrouded by overgrown bushes and conifers, blending almost seamlessly into the alpine forest.
"Hey," Ellie calls to Rachel, pointing at the shed. "Let's check that out."
Rachel purses her lips and strides past her, shotgun still at the ready. When they reach the shed, she slings it off her shoulder before gripping the pull chain to the metal storage door. It groans, rust flaking free as it opens with a horrible screech, Rachel using her full weight to hold the chain down. Ellie scans the forest for Infected, and when she sees none, she ducks underneath the gap.
"Any day now," Rachel grumbles.
"Gimme a sec," Ellie mutters, lip curled. She grits her teeth as she shoves three cinderblocks stacked against the wall underneath the door, propping it open. She coughs hard, one hand pressed to her ribs, not yet fully healed. She waits inside. "Okay, come on through."
Rachel crouches in and clicks her flashlight on. The light reveals four wheelers and snowmobiles like the ones they had found at the cabin, but also an assortment of yard tools, ski equipment, and orange construction cones. Ellie opens the red First Aid box on the wall and collects untouched bandages, knowing that hers will require a change soon, the wound elastic chafing her skin.
"Bingo." Rachel yanks open a rusted locker and pockets a full box of shotgun shells. She reaches back into the top shelf and passes half a box of 9mm bullets to Ellie. Ellie makes a grab for it, but Rachel doesn't let go, looking at her straight in the eye. "Hey, listen. I'm sorry I've been so defensive. Liam's the only thing I've got left in this world."
"It's… okay," Ellie replies, a familiar sinking feeling welling in her stomach. Rachel lets go of the box and Ellie distracts herself by reloading the pistol's magazine by the light of her flashlight. She clicks the bullets into place one by one.
"I'd do anything to protect him," Rachel continues, her voice softer and more worn than Ellie has heard it before. It sounds more like a mantra Rachel has told herself more than anyone else. "Anything."
"Yeah." Ellie nods in agreement. "I would, too."
"That girl of yours, Dina. She told me everything."
Ellie freezes, breath hitching in the back of her throat, as if listening harder would keep Rachel from knowing she was infected. Would Dina have told her? Ellie still had to ask her about it, praying she could avoid the conversation altogether, maybe acknowledge that Joel was right, and never speak about it ever again.
"Relax," Rachel says with a playful slap on Ellie's shoulder, turning to open a cabinet for more supplies. "She said she's known you've liked her since she came to town. Jackson, was it?"
The breath hiccups out of her mouth. That was not the answer she expected. "Yeah… Yeah, Jackson."
Her fingers tremble as she tries to finish reloading the pistol magazine. She drops a bullet and it rolls off the workbench, tinkling somewhere in the dark.
"Here, I've got it." Rachel picks it up from under the very cabinet she's scavenging. "Don't look so surprised, now."
"I'm not. I just… I don't know." Ellie clicks the bullet into place and slides the magazine in. "I mean… Everyone in Jackson likes Dina. So it's not that big a deal."
"If you say so," Rachel replies with a sideways smirk. "Way I see it, you're stuck together. You should have seen her when you were knocked out…" Rachel snickers. "She didn't leave your side."
"Really?"
"Really. She actually… Wait. Did you hear that?"
Rachel snaps her attention outside. A whistle blows in the distance, long and loud.
Then, another whistle. A different one, eerie and out of tune.
"We need to move. Grab anything else you need and let's go."
Rachel hefts her backpack on her shoulder and ducks outside. Ellie turns her flashlight off, holsters her pistol into her waistband, and follows. Rachel grabs the chain and Ellie shoves the cinderblocks propping the door open back inside. The moment the garage door crunches onto the gravel, Rachel skirts for the evergreen juniper bushes, crouching low and out of sight.
Ellie ducks and follows her away from the road. Her sneakers stick in the mud, but she creeps along, eyes locked on the empty campground. The pair of whistles sound again, louder this time, and Rachel drops to the ground, army-crawling on her belly. Ellie scrambles after her, inhaling rich, wet earth, orange needles and leaf litter sticking to her jacket. Stones bump against her bandaged ribs and she withholds a yelp, straining to Rachel's side as she stops to spy on the campground.
"What the fuck?" is all she can say when two humans in drab, grey robes crest the hill. They hold orange lanterns on poles in front of them, the shadows of their pale hoods concealing their faces, riding on a pair of black horses. Ellie can't even tell if they are male or female.
"Hush!" Rachel whispers.
Ellie doesn't dare to breathe. She wants to cough but she holds that in, too, covering her nose with her sleeve instead. Rachel presses a firm hand to her back.
"Don't move."
She wasn't planning on it. Any slight movement, whisper, or breath would be enough to give them away. Ellie keeps her knife close to her as the people, neither Infected nor Hunter, wander near. She wants to crawl backwards into the shadows, the light of their torches creeping near, following their tracks in the gravel. They whistle, rapid and punctuated, excited, even. Ellie braces herself, every muscle ready to spring in retaliation, and run if she has to.
Both strangers dismount their horses. Like Ellie and Rachel, they scavenge the campground, prodding at the withered tents. When they find nothing, they rest their torches against the vinyl coated in mold and Cordyceps, soon setting the whole campground ablaze. Thick, black smoke billows from the low, curling flames, choked by the humid fog settling in the grassy clearing.
One of them whistles above the popping and crackling embers, and then points a finger down the gravel path, directly at the maintenance shed. Ellie catches a cough in her throat as Rachel tugs at her jacket, the both of them retreating further into the overgrown bushes.
The strangers come so close that Ellie can make out the stitches in their bloodstained boots. A torch swings above them and Ellie doesn't dare to move; the slightest motion would be a dead giveaway to their position. She clenches her jaw so tight it hurts, eyes locked on the stranger, all of her willpower screaming inside for them to go away.
The stranger leans over into the bushes. The torch light catches the blonde stubble on his chin and cheeks, dirtied with earth and grime. Eyes still beneath the shadow of his hood are looking right at them, and he doesn't even know it.
A second pair of whistles blow in unison. The torchbearer shifts, now passing them and the maintenance shed, gravel scrunching underfoot. Ellie flinches as they bang on the garage door. One whistle sounds to another, an aggressive "hurry up", and the torchbearer turns away. Both of the strangers mount their horses again and continue on their way.
After ten minutes of heart-pounding silence, Rachel moves. She sticks her head up from the bushes, surveys the area, and then stands. "Okay. They're gone now. Let's hope that's the last time we run into them."
"Who are they?" Ellie asks, not sure if she's more scared or mystified.
"People," Rachel replies, as if skeptical that such strangers could even be called that. "Bad ones. We used to see them back in Montana, but only in the towns."
"Any idea what they want?"
"No. But even if I did, I don't know if it would make a difference. These people…" She hesitates, shaking her head with her fists on her hips. "They like to play with their food before eating, if you catch my drift."
"Oh," Ellie replies. It's not comforting, but Ellie wasn't sure what she was expecting. "Yeah, I've… I've seen that before."
Rachel passes her a perplexed look, but doesn't pry. "It's almost dark. We should head back to the cabin."
Rachel starts off at a swift pace yet again. Ellie lingers, staring down at the footprints left in the coarse gravel, ears straining for the strange, otherworldly whistle. All of it feels like a dream. It's too surreal, too bizarre, to actually happen.
"Ellie."
"Coming."
The abandoned campground smolders red in the gathering dark, surreal shadows dancing in the smoke and trees. Ellie stands still amongst the slow-burning fire, white ashes fluttering in the air as the tents collapse, the speckles sticking to her hair. After twenty or so years of sickness and abandonment, the place was finally cleansed.
Ellie shivers in the bitter night, her fingers red and numb, wishing for a pair of gloves. Darkness swallows their steep, difficult climb back. If not for firelight peeking between the cracks of the cabin walls, she might have hiked right past it. She stops to catch her breath, thick and foggy, as Rachel muscles the bookcase blockade aside.
"It's us," she calls to Dina and Liam inside. Orange light spills across a frosted lawn and Ellie trudges in after Rachel, shimmying past the bookcase.
Dina pokes her head up from an armchair with its stuffing falling out. She closes a book, tiptoes over a mess of matchbox cars, and throws her arms around Ellie's neck.
"You're back," she says with a sigh of relief. "I was so worried. Are you okay?"
Ellie holds onto her and welcomes the warmth that comes with her embrace. "Yeah. I'm… I'm good. Cold. Tired."
"Let me make you some tea."
Soon enough, Ellie's fingers are tingling, holding a warm, ceramic mug. Dina chucks another bundle of scrap wood into the fire, crackling with heat and light, and sits alongside her. Rachel rests her shotgun in her lap and wipes it clean on the sofa. Liam lays fast asleep on a woven Shoshone rug, a patchwork quilt draped over his hunched shoulders, baseball cap askew.
"What took you so long?" Dina asks.
Ellie sips the tea. It's the same kind she had when she was sick, but now she notices a distinctly muddy flavor. It's the same dorky mug, too. But the tea is hot and filling enough, and so she chokes it down. "We ran into some hunters."
"Shit. Are we…"
"We're okay."
Dina sighs in relief, and Ellie keeps her eyes on the fireplace. It burns like the torch in the strange whistler's hand. Rachel knows it, too, cleaning her gun in pensive silence. Both of them knew it was better to downplay what they had seen to avoid spreading panic.
"Oh. I found something for you while you were gone."
Ellie can't tell if it's the fire or her modesty that warms her cheeks. "What?"
"Close your eyes," Dina says with a promising grin. "And no peeking."
"Uh… All right."
"I mean it."
"Okay, they're closed!"
Dina reaches under the couch. She hauls out a hard, oblong case that scrapes against the floor. She pushes the yellow latches and it springs open.
Ellie opens her eyes anyways and gasps. "Dina, is that what I think it is?"
"You bet."
Ellie kneels alongside her and cradles the sleek, grey recurve bow from its foam interior. She plucks the taut nylon string and it twangs, brand new.
"Oh! It comes with these, too." Dina reaches under the couch again and passes her a plastic package. Ellie rips it open and slides out seven fiberglass arrows with hunter-orange fletching. She rolls them between her fingers. They're much more durable than the wooden arrows she was accustomed to shooting.
"I can't believe I didn't find it earlier. Liam was actually the one that found it. It was buried in one of the closets."
"Dina, this is…" Ellie is almost speechless, unable to contain her smile. "This is awesome." Of all the things that had gone bad, having a bow in her hands made all the difference. Just holding it made her feel invincible.
"You like it?"
"Fuck yeah," Ellie replies, beaming, when she's suddenly struck by how bad she wants to kiss Dina. Fettering nerves crash over her confidence as they lock eyes, Dina's brown eyes bold and bright, her hand resting casually on Ellie's knee. Ellie chides herself for not noticing it earlier, heat tingling up her spine, a carnal desire to have her so strong that she needs to set the bow aside and take control of what feels so very out of control.
Rachel clears her throat. "Still here, ladies."
Both girls spring back from each other as if struck. Rachel snickers, sets her shotgun aside, and shakes her head with a fond smile.
"My husband used to look at me the same way. Bastard."
Dina tucks her hair behind an ear and picks up her tea mug again. "What happened to him?"
"He joined the Fireflies three days after he found out I was pregnant."
"Oh… Rachel, you know the Fireflies were…"
"Wiped out? Yeah, I know," she replies with an indifferent shrug. "I assumed he was dead until we got word he and some others were headed to Seattle. Kept saying something about 'salvation'. And he needed his son there… His son he hasn't even met."
"He's a sweet kid, you know," Dina says, gesturing her tea at Liam, still sound asleep. "Smart, too. He kept beating me at that game over there."
She directs her cup towards an old game of Connect Four, unburied from one of the cabin's many wooden chests.
Rachel smiles. "Thank you for playing with him. I try to, but…" She glances at her shotgun, smile fading and shaking her head. "This world is no place for children, anymore."
"Is that why you're taking him to Seattle?" Dina asks. "A group I was with… They were headed there too."
Rachel's brow furrows. "Why were they heading there?"
"The same reason you gave," Dina replies with a shrug. "It was safe."
"Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts," Rachel scoffs. "But I guess the thought keeps us moving. And then maybe we'll rest for a while, before we have to do it all over again. Liam will grow up, but until he does…it's up to me to protect him. Not some town guard or police or bullshit like that. You can't rely on men. So, it's just me. But one of these days, I won't be here for him. And it'll cost me."
Ellie grimaces. Even if having children wasn't anywhere in her near future, she couldn't begin to fathom what kind of pain it would bring. Getting to know Joel was proof enough.
"Hey," she speaks up, hopeful. "Look, I know you just met us, but… Seattle's far. Very far. And winter's coming. What if you and Liam came to Jackson with us instead? There are other kids his age there, and you can get all the supplies you need."
Rachel hunches forward. She opens her mouth, decides against it, and scoops Liam into her arms, blankets and all.
"I'm sorry," she finally says. "I made a promise. I don't expect either of you to understand. But for now, it'd be wise to get some rest. Goodnight."
She whispers something only mothers do into Liam's ear as she carries him into the bedroom, boots thumping on the wooden floorboards. Ellie and Dina wait for her to close the door.
"Don't you think that's kind of strange?" Dina asks softly, as if Rachel could still hear them. "I mean, it's hard enough getting anywhere by yourself. I can't imagine it with a kid."
Ellie shrugs. It was tough, but not impossible. Her own journey with Joel was testament to that. "She's just trying to protect him."
Dina nods, not nearly as convinced, but ultimately decides to drop it. "Hey, before I forget, there's something else we found while you were out."
"Another surprise?"
"Sorta." Dina offers her a hand. "Come on, stand up."
Ellie takes it, wondering what secret treasure Dina and Liam could have possibly found, watching as Dina disappears into the kitchen. When she returns, she sets a square box onto the coffee table, clearing Liam's matchbox cars with her foot. Perplexed, Ellie watches over her shoulder as she pulls a black disc from a cardboard sleeve and blows the dust off of it. A tinny scratching sound chirps up from the ancient record player.
Dina holds out a hand as slow, dramatic drums churn out from the lonely speakers. "Ready?"
Ellies listens to a languid, bluesy guitar join the drums. Her brow furrows. "For what?"
"Dance with me," Dina replies with an encouraging smile. "Please?"
Ellie's heart skips a beat. She wrings her hands together. "I don't know."
She thinks of the last time she danced; years ago, on top of a jewelry display in the Boston Mall, and with Riley only a few minutes before they were attacked. But…this was different. The music was soft and unlikely to draw attention or even wake Rachel and Liam.
Dina slips her hands into Ellie's sweaty palms. "It's easy. Just follow me."
She steps, gently tugging Ellie with her, moving with the music. Ellie stumbles, praying she doesn't step on Dina's toes with her big dumb feet, and even when she does, Dina sways with it in silent grace. Ellie watches as she closes her eyes, losing herself in the soulful ballad, her head following the drums. Only then, does Ellie forget about her feet, swept away in the rhythm.
"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her…"
It's a beautifully sad song, one that Ellie doesn't fully understand, but when the guitar fades to a whisper and the drums evaporate, she's still standing with her hands in Dina's.
More than all of the times before, Ellie longs to kiss her. And from the looks of it, she thinks Dina might want to, too.
But Ellie can't, so she pulls away.
"What's wrong?" Dina asks as Ellie sits down on the couch.
"Dina… There's something I need to tell you."
Ellie closes her eyes and braces herself, as if she's about to get hit, but only because she knows that's how much it's going to hurt.
Dina switches off the record player and sits down next to her. "Ellie, you can tell me anything."
"You're not going to like it," Ellie warns.
"Try me."
Ellie hesitates, but she had no doubt, now, that it was something that needed to be done. By the orange glow of the fireplace, Ellie pulls her sleeve back and unwraps the bandages of her forearm. Dina watches with a tilted head as Ellie reveals scarred, mutilated flesh. Pale skin bunches in angry red creases where human teeth sank in down to bone. Sickly yellow patches stain irregular patterns all around it.
"I meant to tell you," Ellie says quickly, panic creeping up in her throat. "Really. I swear. It's just… It's harder than it seems. If anyone found out about this back in Jackson… It wouldn't be good, y'know? They could exile or lynch me or… Please, Dina, don't be mad at me."
Dina examines the scar in quiet fascination. If she's angry, she bites her tongue. It makes Ellie nervous.
Then, Dina gingerly curls her fingers around Ellie's wrist, steadying it. "I'm not mad at you, Ellie."
Ellie blinks. "You're not?"
"No," Dina replies, rotating her arm, learning the curve of where the scar begins and ends. "This is… This is incredible. Honestly, I saw this when I was wrapping your ribs, but I thought maybe… Maybe you might turn, and… Ellie, how long ago were you bitten?"
"Uh, about three years now? It happened back in Boston. On the same day Riley was bit. But she turned, and I…"
I didn't, she wanted to say. It was a memory that would always haunt her. Her forlorn gaze into the fireplace behind her doesn't go unnoticed as Dina shifts her hand down into hers.
"Hey," she says, grabbing Ellie's attention back. "Forget about the scar."
"What?"
"And forget about being Infected. I don't care. You could turn tonight or twenty years from now. It doesn't matter. Because right now, you're you. You're Ellie. And nobody can take that away from you."
Dina looks down at her palm and traces the calluses with her index finger.
"My grandmother used to live with us in the LA QZ," Dina continues. "She could do all kinds of magic tricks. My little brother, Daniel, spent a lot of time with her. He was too young to help out at the hospital with me and mom. One day, he steals some ration cards from one of the soldiers and brought them to her. He didn't even pull them out of his pocket when she told him to take them back to the soldier. We have no idea how she knew he had them.
"So, I asked her one day. She said that people were a lot like books. You can never judge one by its cover, but you can tell where it's been; left behind in the pouring rain, baking out in the sun, or sitting pristine on a shelf. And then, if you took a look at a person's hands, it was like reading that book. You could tell where things happened, and if you look at things just the right way, you could tell where they were going to go, too."
She takes Ellie's hand in both of hers and gives it a firm squeeze. "So… If this is who the real Ellie is… I want to know all about her."
It takes a moment for everything Dina just said to sink in. Ellie sighs, shoulders heavy, carrying the weight of what was left in the world. She slowly shakes her head with a defeated shrug. "I don't even know who that is anymore."
"You can start from the beginning," Dina suggests. "You mentioned someone named Riley?"
Riley. The name simultaneously pulls a smile on Ellie's face and tugs at her heartstrings. Hilarious, wild, brilliant Riley. God, how she missed her.
"Yeah. She was my best friend."
Dina piles the blankets on them, cozying up next to Ellie so they both sink into the floral-patterned cushions. She pours both of them another round of pine-needle tea.
"What was she like?" Dina asks.
Nostalgia warms Ellie's chest like golden rays of sunshine. Despite all the terrible things that had happened, she would never forget the day Riley stood up for her, calling off the playground bullies before they could throw another punch. Talking about Riley releases a valve she didn't know was stuck. Dina leans forward, picturing herself alongside Ellie's former adventures of sneaking out of military school, stealing water guns, and bringing an abandoned mall back to life after Ellie falls quiet.
Ellie inhales, the grief surfacing and clouding over the memories, pushing them further and further into the distance. "And then… That was it. She was bitten and so was I, and she said we have two options… One, we take care of it ourselves, or two… We can wait it out. Be all poetic and lose our minds together… I can't believe I was that stupid."
"Oh, Ellie..."
Dina had set her tea aside long ago and wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders, trembling slightly. She brushes aside a stand of auburn hair sticking to Ellie's tearstained cheek.
"You're not stupid," she continues. "You are amazing and I am so incredibly jealous of the beautiful friendship you had with Riley. You had something special, and…"
Dina pauses, her own words seeming to catch her by surprise. A slight blush dapples her cheeks and she follows up with a quick,
"And I'd like to think we have something special, too."
It's a suggestion that sends Ellie's heart racing, her hand now sweaty in Dina's grasp. A hundred thoughts replay in her mind of sneaking glances at Dina from the Jackson stables, of wondering how she could talk to her at the bonfire, and the countless times, she was beginning to realize, she would throw herself in harm's way so Dina could live another day. She could break all of her bones and Dina would be there to bandage her back together.
Ellie swallows with a shy nod. "Yeah… I think we do."