A/N: I'm on a roll, everyone! Woop woop, another chapter out. I love summer vacation and being able to write non-stop for hours at a time. I'll probably have another one out in the next few days, as well. I'm so excited!
"Tina, wake up."
"Nnnn, no." I grumble, purposefully keeping my eyes closed. Nick tries to pull an arm away from my side, but I buckle it in by my elbow. "No, warmth."
"C'mon, sleeping beauty. Wake up." His hand taps my back in encouragement. I don't let go of my hold on him; I pull him closer.
"Yank, I said no." I snuggle into his chest, sighing in comfort. Our legs are a mess, tangled around each other. The sheets are flung, messy and unkempt by the bottom. I guess we both toss and turn in our sleep.
"Tina." He tries again, successfully prying away this time. "C'mon, we gotta get up."
"Fuck you." I mutter into the pillow, snuggling it instead. Then I quietly realize, "I actually slept last night." I smile, my face mushing into the soft cushion. Sweet, dreamless sleep.
"Jesus, T, how long have you been having nightmares?"
I feel the mattress move around me, his weight shifting. When I open my eyes he's above me, towards my side, awaiting the response as he lets his weight rest on one hand.
I shift in place, flipping so I can rest on my back and stare up at him. "A few days. Not too long. But I'm glad they're over."
"Me too." An arm gently glides over me, resting on the bed on my other side so he can gaze down; he's trapped me in place. "Day six, by the way."
"No carrier pigeon today?" I ask, cocking my head to the side to look up curiously.
"Nah, not while I still have you here."
"You're not gonna try to talk me out of it?" My eyes roam over him, over his eyes, his straight, strong jaw, his lips. "Out of that last day? Not going to try and speed things up? We've already broken the rule twice."
"While I would love to," Nick starts, his hand going to my cheek, thumb lightly pushing some few escaped strands of unruly hair from my face as he caresses me softly, "I'm not going to. Here's the thing, T. I like you. A lot. I respect you. So if you want seven days, you get seven days. Even if they're a smidge broken. So, I'm going to get upstairs and grab some breakfast, and you can do whatever you want. And we're not gonna talk until tomorrow. Okay?"
My hand grasps at his resting on my cheek, snuggling into it. "Good answer."
"I can be smart, on occasion."
"Eh, only on Tuesdays."
The remark earns a chuckle. Before he pulls away, he slowly leans down above me, eyes roaming over my face in the soft morning light from the window above. I squint, trying to figure out what he's thinking.
Then, slowly, Nick brings his head to mine, eyes closed, and presses a kiss to the middle of my forehead. I release a soft breath I don't even realize I was holding, eyelids fluttering shut at the gentleness. My skin blazes like a fire underneath his touch. The warmth spreads through me when I open my eyes, looking up to his smiling face.
This last day needs to go fast.
"Sorry, couldn't help myself." He chuckles lowly.
"Don't be." I say breathlessly. "But go. You're right. One day more."
"Yeah." He says quietly, more like he's muttering to himself than me. "One day."
As Nick pulls away and stands on the floor, he furrows his brows.
"What?"
"Do you feel that?" He looks back to me, searching my expression.
"Feel what?"
"Exactly." He takes a few steps to the door. "The boat's not moving."
I stand cautiously, and I realize he's right. Shit. When you're on a boat for a good while, you get used to the feeling of it moving underneath your feet. It's gentle, but it's there. Now, the Abigail sways softly in the water, not speeding through like it should be.
What the hell happened?
"Something's blocking the water intake." Madison explains at breakfast. She pours a small pot of coffee out for those who enjoy the horrid bean juice. "The water cools the engine, but because the water isn't filling up-"
"The engine's overheated." Nick finishes.
She nods, finishes pouring his cup, and moves on to Alycia. "Travis went down last night. There was an infected stuck. We think there's more underneath the filtration system."
"Oh, gross." Alycia scrunches her nose in disgust. Her long fingers grasp at the coffee mug, holding it in front of her face while she waits for it to cool down. "Excellent breakfast talk."
"Hey, we should all be informed about what goes on in this boat." Madison comments, placing the pot of coffee down on the table. There's barely a smidge left at the bottom, but it's there for whoever needs the extra boost. "Travis is still workin' on it. We don't know how long it's gonna be."
"Okay." I say. Madison treads over to me, a steaming cup of green tea in hand. I thank her before adding, "So we wait."
"Yup." She pops the, "p," at the end when she finally takes a seat at the table. "Toast, anyone?"
By the time breakfast is done and we've scattered in different areas, I decide to head back to my bedroom. My fingers search through Alycia's backpack, and I find my EMT book. It's been a while since I've read it. Better skim through the pages at least, just to keep the information fresh in mind.
After staring at it for a good hour, trying to absorb everything possible on broken legs, I opt to take a quick break and clear my head. I stroll to the front of the boat, on the deck where the plastic lawn chairs are. Alycia sits by herself on one, looking through a set of binoculars to an island a raft ride away.
"Anything good out there?" I ask as I plop unceremoniously onto the chair beside her. My knees knock with hers in the small space between the chairs.
"Take a look." She hands me the binoculars, and I peak to the island.
"Holy shit." I gasp. There's dozens of suitcases spread brought dunes of sand, going as far inland as my eyes can see. There's definitely some wreckage; a plane wing is shattered into at least three gigantic pieces, the closest items to the water. "Any infected?"
"I've been out here since breakfast, and I haven't seen anything yet." Alycia explains as she holds out her hand for the binoculars. I hand them back and she stares to the island again. As her eyes comb through the wreckage, she comments, "You never came back to bed last night."
"No, I didn't." I say easily. I was hoping not to have this conversation. "I told you not to wait up for me."
"I was only up for about half an hour," she replies, lowering the binoculars from her eyes. Then she looks over to me. "And I realized you weren't coming back so I gave up."
I shrug non-committedly.
"Did you sleep with him?"
"We just slept."
"You didn't-"
"No, Alycia." My face burns in embarrassment. "But even if we did have hot, kinky sex, is that really any of your business?"
She looks over as she chuckles, hazel eyes softly gazing to me. "You know I love you, right?"
"Of course." I furrow my brow.
"And I love Nick, too."
"I would hope so."
"Shut up, I'm trying to be sincere." She lightly shoves at my knee. "I just- back in freshman year, before he started using and before dad died, I thought you two would be great together. But after?" She gently shakes her head, as if to clear her thoughts. "I love Nick, but sometimes he's not the greatest person, Tina. I watched him with other girls, other users, and his life just spiraled downward. And he went willingly. That hole is not a place he escaped easily; it took the apocalypse to get him out. I just—I don't want that to happen to you if you do get together."
"It won't." I say simply, smiling to her. Her heart is so huge, so caring. "I know what you mean, and I won't let it. We talked about that. If we ever decide on anything, if we ever want to be anything, he needs his head clear and his shit together."
"Okay." She nods. "I just want you to be... safe, I guess. I want you to be happy."
"That means a lot to me, 'Lych." I say earnestly. "Honestly. But you don't have to worry, alright?"
"Alright." And she smiles, finally. With a jerk of her head to the boat, she asks, "C'mon, why don't we get on that island? We could use the supplies."
"Hell yes."
The two of us hop up from our spots and run to the back, where most of the group is relaxing. Nick and Chris use the fishing equipment, each holding poles and setting bait on the end. Strand is beside them, watching the pair in amusement. Madison rests on the rails, staring out to the sea. She must be going crazy with Travis working his ass off to fix this ship and not being able to help.
"Mom! Mom!" Alycia calls, the two of us scampering quickly to reach Madison.
"What?" Madison says, sounding like her head's in a fog. She repeats herself to clear it. "Girls, what?"
We reach her in a second, but not before being reprimanded by Strand. "I know you're not running on my deck."
"Jesus, seriously?" Alycia complains. I just scoff in indignation. I don't feel like conversing with his royal highness. (Read: royal pain in the ass.)
"What's wrong, girls?" Madison repeats, turning our attention back to her.
"Look," Alycia hands the binoculars over to her mother, pointing out to the island. "Over there. Do you see it?"
"Is that-" Madison starts.
"Suitcases." I confirm. "A lot of luggage."
"Holy shit, where'd that wash up from?" Madison comments, pulling the binoculars off her face.
Nick sets his pole down and heads over to her, taking a peak through the binoculars himself.
"We need supplies." Alycia says.
Madison shakes her head. "Alycia, no."
"We've been watching. There's no one there. No infected. All that stuff is just lying there."
"There's infected in the water!"
"We're not gonna swim."
"It's a yard sale. I'll go." Nick says, pulling the binoculars from his face.
"I'm with you." Chris adds.
"Me too." I nod in agreement.
"If they're going, I'm going." Alycia asserts.
"No!" Madison protests. "Listen to me, all of you! Look, if anything were to happen to you—"
"Anything did happen." Alycia glares at her mother, waiting for another argument. "We're all in it. We've seen and done-"
"I know." Madison interjects softly.
"So stop putting us at the kids' table."
"I'll watch her." Chris offers.
Alycia rolls her eyes. "You're gonna get slapped."
"Mom," Nick looks over to her as Daniel and Ophelia walk through the threshold of the door, listening to us bicker. "We need more clothes. We need more meds. We need more everything."
"Valid." Strand pipes up. Of course he wants us to go to shore. He wouldn't, but he needs the supplies and we're more than willing to grab them.
Nick continues, "So we go while Travis fixes the engine. We get what we can. We come straight back." Nick walks away from her, not letting her have even a second to argue. He's right. Kill two birds with one stone. We're floating anyway, might as well make good use of our time.
"What's going on?" Travis pulls through the door, one hand completely covered in a gross, dark goop. Oh god, it smells. The goop smells so bad.
"Dad, we're going to shore." Chris informs, handing a towel to Travis to clean up his arm.
"Like hell you are!" Travis immediately opposes.
Alycia crosses her arms. "We're not asking for permission."
"Excuse me?" Travis answers hotly, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, hold on!" Madison agrees.
"Guys, we need supplies!" I say. "They are right there for the taking!"
Daniel interjects before a whole argument breaks out. "I'll take them. The girls are right. We're wasting time. Anything goes wrong, we'll come back quickly."
Madison and Travis share a look of worry, but both finally concede. They're outnumbered. And besides, we'll be fine. Just a quick trip ashore.
"Okay; get in, get out." Travis explains as he hops onto the raft with an empty jug. "Look for sealed pills, clothes, canned food."
I hand Chris an empty black duffel bag as he hops onto the raft. Alycia takes a red bin in hand and her beige backpack, now emptied, on her back. I carry another duffel, slung on a shoulder while I await my turn to get on the raft.
"Size thirteen sneakers, if you find 'em." Travis adds.
"It's on the list." Ophelia assures, holding a small slip ripped out of a notebook. "Hey, if you see any clothes that aren't completely awful-"
"I got you." Nick replies, walking past and taking the note from her hands. With ease, he hops to the raft and takes a seat by his sister.
"'Lycia, Tina, I can't do geriatric chic." Ophelia says, holding back a grin.
"What's wrong with geriatric chic?" Nick defends, gesturing to himself. Thankfully, he's no longer wearing the old man jacket, and he's stayed with the blue polo from the boat, but he's still wearing the hideous baggy, yellowed pants.
"Exactly." Ophelia snickers.
"Relax," I step to her, placing a comforting arm on her side. "We got you."
She nods playfully as I pass her and hop onto the raft. I take a seat by Chris and throw the duffel to the ground with a heave. Madison pipes up as she pulls Travis up from the raft and back onto the Abigail. "Get warm clothes too, okay? Jackets, sweaters. It's cold out on the water."
"Can do, Madison." I wave. Daniel's the last to hop on, immediately taking the front and turning on the raft's engine. We wave to the Abigail one last time before Daniel turns the raft over and we shoot out to sea.
The ride is silent and quick as we make our way to the island, and we stash the raft in a small bend in the beach, hidden away by some large rocks and a sand dune. We grab our bags and I toss mine over my shoulder with high hopes I'll find something good. Even if I find a single can of soup, I'll be happy.
Our small group treks up through the hot sand, passing by some burnt suitcases and wreckage. The broken wing I saw through the binoculars is more tattered in the back, dozens of wires and sprigs of hot metal protruding haphazardly. Shit. Must've been a rough landing.
"Bloody hell." I murmur, stopping in my tracks beside Alycia and Chris as we pass by some dead ones. The bodies are truly dead; no possible chance of them coming back. They're crisped from a fire, with lots of head trauma. Either someone came by and put them out of their misery, or the landing put them out and they hopefully didn't feel a thing.
I take a step back from the bodies, shaking my head to push away the thoughts. We're here for supplies. Nothing else matters.
"Okay, let's be quick." Daniel says. "Everyone where I can see you. Fill your bags, come back."
"Aye, aye, captain." I quietly mutter, turning to the left, past the wing and bodies, and take a few generous steps before I drop to my knees and open a large, green suitcase.
Clothes, lots of them. Mostly khakis and polos, some Star Wars t-shirts toward the bottom. Better than nothing. I stuff some into my duffel, keeping them close together so I have more room to shuffle through the rest of it. Small, travel sized packs of shampoo and conditioner, some toothpaste, and a stick of deodorant. Might as well. There's a laptop at the bottom, with a charger, and some books. Those are useless, so I stand and head to the next one.
It's smaller, and a soft lavender. Well, it was. The edges are covered in soot and sand, so it's darker than its original color. The zipper is stuck, so it takes more than a moment to fiddle with it and get it opened. When I do, I immediately frown and shake my head softly.
Dolls, stuffed animals. Horrid, glittery lip glosses. A child's bag. There's clothes, and other items, sure, but nothing that the group can use. With sad eyes, I pull away from it and move to the next one.
The next one is black and nearly bursting at the seams. Whoever packed this one needed everything for this trip.
When I open it, it's definitely a woman's. Summer dresses, flip flops, lots of high-end make-up in a pocket. By the dresses, tucked in the corner tightly, is a flowery shawl. Curiously I pull it out and unfurl it.
"Good god." It's long! Longer than I am. This very light, see-through shawl has to be made for someone at least 5'6". I'm only 5'3", and barely there at that. Still, I pull it to the side and continue my rummaging.
For her toiletry items, she has two kinds of shampoo and one huge bottle of conditioner, all of which I toss into my duffel. Then there's a couple different face mask packs by a razor and some shaving cream. The latter two I take. Eh, why not?
"Oh, hello!" I grin to the suitcase. Tucked away underneath the clothes is a couple of protein bars and some to-go cups of Cheerios. Better than nothing! I'll take stale Cheerios over eel any day.
I shuffle around the front flap of her pack and find a small can of pepper spray. Curiously, I point the can outward to the sand dunes, shake it, and spray it. Sure enough, a quick mist spreads from the spout. Awesome. I doubt very highly the infected can feel pain, but people can.
Anything else? I tuck the can into the small clothing pile I've set in the duffel, and rummage blindly to the bottom of the front flap. Nope.
Any clothes worth taking? I open the middle of the suitcase again and take one last look through the clothes. The shawl is pulled to the side, and with little vigor I pull out the sundresses, skirts, and tank tops. Well, I guess those tanks could work.
Halfheartedly, I take a couple of the tanks and shove them into the duffel. When I go through the second stacks of clothes, I pull out something unexpected towards the bottom.
"Hell-o, beautiful!" I murmur, yanking out the item. A knife! Not a design I've seen before. A switchblade, maybe? A flick-knife?
It's folded into itself, the blade hidden in the hilt. Experimentally, I tug on the backside of the blade in hopes to get it out, but to no avail. Huh. I hold it up to my eye level, twirling it in my hands to figure out how to get it open.
The hold is very pretty; mostly black, but with intricate designs throughout the marble-like cover. There are delves on the side of it, most likely for fingers to grasp. How the fuck do I get it open, though?
I twist it to the back, searching for an opening mechanism. Thankfully, I find a small dot on the back, protruding at the topmost part of it. I hum thoughtfully. My index finger pulls at the dot, flicking it down to the hilt. Immediately the blade flicks out of the hilt, the silver metal shining proudly in the summer sun. The letters, "CRKT," are written close to the hilt. This lady must've been really into self-defense.
"Hell yeah!" I grin. I'm definitely taking this. My fingers curl at the delves, settling themselves comfortably to hold it. The blade points outward in my hand. I could get used to this! With a nervous jerk, I bring the knife down to the sundresses, stabbing them like it's a lesson. It rips through the first two easily. When I pull it out, the fabric is tugged by the blade, slicing it further down. I'll make myself familiar with it.
Now, how do I close it?
With more fumbling and searching through the knife, I find a small piece of metal right under the blade that I need to push out of the way so the blade can be set back into the closed position. It's tough to close, but I'll get used to it. Eventually.
I set the closed blade into my back pocket and stand from the sand with my duffel slightly fuller than before. Thank you, random lady. In a silly spilt-second decision, I grab the shawl and walk over to Alycia, throwing the bundled fabric at her head.
"Hey!" She complains, ripping it off her eyes. "I just brushed this hair."
"You'll get over it." I shrug my shoulders playfully. She looks over the shawl, flipping it over in her hands, and decides to shrug it on her shoulders. "It looks nice on you. Pretty."
"Thanks."
A shadow passes over the sand in front of me, and I feel something being placed atop my head. My hands feel over it, the hat shielding my eyes from the sun. My green orbs gaze above my head, to the trim of a white hat. A gardening hat.
Nick strides past me, a playful smirk on his face before he situates himself in front of another suitcase. Very funny, ha ha.
I adjust the hat comfortably atop my head. Maybe not the most fashionable, but certainly nice to keep the sun out of my eyes.
Alycia throws something to Nick's face, and I quietly snicker as he's temporarily blinded. When he pulls the white cloth away, I take in the detail on the shoulders. Stripes in blue and yellow; a captain's jacket. There's sand stuck to it in various patches, but besides that it's pretty damn clean. He shoulders it on, standing so he can properly fix the buttons.
"All these years never knowing where you were or what you were doing." Alycia comments. "And now here you are."
"I was always there." Nick tells her, messing with a button near the collar of the jacket. "I was just hungry." When he finishes he brandishes himself to the two of us. "Well?"
Alycia giggles at the ensemble. "Very handsome."
"Better than those worn stripes." I whisper to Alycia with a grin.
"Damn straight." She nods to me. Then she hands something over to me. "Your turn."
"Hah," I say, looking at the item in hand. It's a black plastic raincoat, with white flowers covering the bottom half of it. "No."
"Oh, yes." She replies smoothly. "He wears the captain's jacket, I wear this shawl, you wear pretty flowers on plastic."
"Nope. I'm wearing this hat, that's it." My hands drop the raincoat as I stand, and I hold the brim of the hat and bend it downward at its sides. "It's already super fashionable, 'Lych." I pull off a fancy twirl and cock the hat on its side, giving her a wink.
She whistles lowly, "Work it, gurl."
Popping out my hip, my hand goes to the middle of the hat and I bow jovially, tipping it, spinning it on my index finger, and flipping it back on my head. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week."
Nick treks off on his own, shaking his head and chuckling as he leaves Alycia and me alone to search through this small patch of suitcases. There's nothing worth taking. A couple opened bottles of Ibuprofen, some water, and a pack of Mac and Cheese, but nothing else. After I search through the last case on this stretch I allow myself to flop backwards, landing on my ass as I let out a large huff of air.
Disinterested in searching through more suitcases, I pull out my CRKT knife, flicking it opened and closed to get myself familiar with the movements.
"Found that, too?" Alycia asks.
I nod. "Mmhmm. Thought it'd be useful." Against the dead, and the living, if need be. I hope it never comes to that, but we never know nowadays. "Find anything else?"
"Nada." She answers, standing. "C'mon, let's go find the others. Maybe Daniel and Chris had some luck."
Maybe. That's the key word.
We head to the front of the beach, where we'd last seen the two, but all we find is Nick sitting by himself, shuffling through a pack with clothes and pill bottles. His eyes scan through the names, and he tosses most of them aside. I'll admit, my blood runs cold at the sight. I swear to god, Nick. Don't you dare.
"Where are the others?" Alycia asks him cautiously, pulling his mind away from the rattling bottles.
"I don't know," he answers, throwing a bottle to the side. "This shit's useless."
I stare down to him harshly as Alycia asks, "Useless for what, Nick?"
"Ophelia's out of antibiotics. She needs more."
Oh, okay. I let out a huff of air, taking a step away from the siblings. Not looking for anything else. Okay. I shake my head. I have to trust him on that front. Perks of liking an addict, I think with an inward eyeroll. Always second-guessing his motives near pills.
"Oh, I think Daniel went to look for Chris." Nick adds.
"They're taking too long." Alycia looks out to the sand dunes, finding no movement besides the drifting sand. She hops through them, making her way a level down. I follow suit. She's right, we probably should get going.
"I'm right behind you." Nick says distractedly, taking another look at a bottle of pills in his hand. He tosses it back to the case as he stands up, shouldering his duffel. The three of us make our way to the left, following a barely-there path through the sand.
"Hold on, 'Lycia." Nick calls from the back of the group. He pulls away, heading over to a black bag by some pointy flowers and plants off the path. A doctor's bag.
Alycia and I press forward without him. Whatever he finds, I have to trust that it's truly for Ophelia and not himself. Former addict. Former.
"Chris?!" Alycia calls out to the open. We trek through the sand, but all I've seen so far is more suitcases and wreckage. There's nothing big enough for him to hide in. I haven't caught a glimpse of the teen since we first got on shore.
"See anything?" I ask. She's a few paces ahead; maybe she has more view than I do.
She shakes her head ruefully. "No. CHRIS!"
"'Lych." I tap her arm, pulling her back and pointing her further into the island. "Look."
There's a huge piece of the back of the airplane smack in the middle of some sand dunes, with twisted pieces of metal and wires flying everywhere. It's definitely big enough for him to walk inside. We're pointed to the back end of the collapsed metal; the, "entrance," must be on the other side.
"Chris?" Alycia calls out curiously, trekking deeper into the sand. I follow close behind, my hand hovering over my back pocket. Just in case there are infected in there.
The kid in question slowly walks out of the back end of the remnant of the plane, eyes downcast and shockingly large. Alycia stomps up to him. "Where the hell were you?!"
"I was in there looking for some supplies." He answers, voice hollow. He looks like he's in shock.
I take in the blood splattered on his neck, and the metal piece in his hands. It's covered, too. Alycia looks over him, her fingers roaming over his face as she stutters out, "Are you hurt?"
"No." Chris replies, pulling away from her searching fingers. He looks over the bloodied metal and repeats, "No! No, I'm okay. It wasn't- it wasn't me."
"You killed one?"
He gives us the smallest of nods, gulping quietly.
Then a gunshot sounds out of nowhere, reverberating through the air.
"Shit." I mutter. The three of us rush back to the front of the island, back to Daniel, and it is covered in the dead. Dozens of dead passengers moan and shamble over him. With his handgun he shoots at the masses, taking out a few, but he only has so many bullets.
Beside him is a woman I've never seen before; probably the only living survivor of this bloody crash. Her dark hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and a backpack is slung over her shoulders. Her eyes are wide as one of the dead get close to her, but she manages to unsteady it by kicking at its legs. When it tumbles over, she stands above it and stabs it straight brought the forehead with a pocket knife.
"Daniel! Where's Nick?" Alycia yells as we run back to him and the girl.
"Let's get back to the boat!" He responds as he presses the trigger on his gun. The only sound is a quiet, "click." Ammo only lasts so long. Instead he manages to kill one by beating it with the end of the gun.
"Where's Nick?!" I ask, pulling out my knife from my back pocket. Let's see what this thing's made of.
"He was supposed to be with you!" Daniel responds. Shit. We all comb through the dead surrounding us, searching for him, but he's nowhere to be found. That's either good, or really bad. Where did you go this time, yank?
"Grab something." Daniel orders Alycia. "Now."
I flick open the blade of my new knife and drop my duffel, immediately running over to the closest infected. With determined hands I pull at its messy hair so it looks upward. I shove the blade upward, through its jaw, and the body goes limp in my hand.
I yank the blade out, ignoring the squelch it makes and drop the fully dead infected before I turn to the next one. Copying the stranger's moves from earlier, my feet kicks at the legs of the tall infected, letting it tumble over a small sand dune. As it falls to its knees, both hands grasp at the hilt of the knife and I bring it down forcefully through the skull. Pulling it out is harder, but I manage that just fine.
"Alycia!" Chris screams to her, and I turn in my spot. She's desperately pulling at a heavy-set stick of wood underneath a burrowed suitcase in the dirt. One of the dead is clambering their way towards her, too close for my liking.
I'm just about ready to run over to her when the stick finally comes loose, and she throws her arm back with a grunt. The stick connects to the dead one's face, and it tumbles down to the sand.
There's too many surrounding us. It feels like it's fifty to our measly five. I take out one, two more come shambling up. I take cautious steps back as I go, just like the rest of us, and we find ourselves at the edge of a small, rocky cliff. We're too far back. We're stuck.
I look behind me in a quick moment, looking out to the water. There's rocks below. We can't jump. If the dead don't kill us, the fall surely would.
"Alycia!" I scream. Another dead one comes to her, pressing forward with ease. She smacks it in the face with her stick, but it's not enough to kill it. The infected presses on with unsteady feet, shoving itself against her front. She holds the stick out horizontally on her chest, pushing it out so the dead one can't bite her. I'm trying to reach her so I can stab at him, but there's too many close to me. I can't make it and stay alive at the same time.
Shit. We're surrounded and there's nowhere to go.
Suddenly, a loud BAM! fills my ears, and the infected at Alycia drops dead to the sand. I look over, and I see Nick with a piece of metal from the plane in hand. Thank god. Then I scrunch my nose in disgust. His entire captain's jacket, plus his face and strands of his hair, are completely covered in blood.
His eyes lock with Alycia's for a moment, making sure she's okay, and then he swings his arms back and hits another infected in the face with the piece of metal. What the hell, Nick?! What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?
"Go, go!" He screams to us, pointing to a small opening through the horde of the dead.
Don't need to tell us twice. I grab at my duffel after stabbing another infected beside us. I went through all this trouble to get some supplies; I'm keeping them, dammit! We all desperately run through the sand, away from the dead, away from the fighting. I haphazardly stab at one that gets too close to us for my liking, looking back to the rest of the horde crowding around the edge of the cliff. And Nick is still by the dead. Nearly in the middle of the group.
"Nick!" Alycia screams to him. Still he stands, staring curiously to the infected in front of him. "NICK!"
He pulls away this time, clearing his thoughts and following us through the dunes and back to our raft.
I throw my duffel onto the raft as I push at the end offer with Chris, Daniel, and the newcomer. Alycia and Nick pull behind us, Alycia worriedly hovering over him.
"Nick, are you bit?!" She anxiously stutters out. Her hands roam over his face like she did with Chris earlier, staring intensely at him as she repeats, "Are you bit?"
"No, I'm good. I'm good." He responds quickly. She hugs him tightly, and his arms wrap around her with the same force. I let out a breath of relief, one that I know he can hear over the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks near us. He softly adds, "I'm okay, I'm okay."
Just as the rest of us push the raft out to the water, the stranger looks over to Daniel. "We're gonna need to make a stop."
Once we're out to sea and have two strangers in an emergency raft tied to ours, I finally get a second to breathe and clear my head. Well, catch my breath, at least. My mind goes over the last hour, replaying myself killing the infected in the sand. My hands are completely bloodied and messy, the red becoming sticky as it dries on my palms. At least the knife came in handy.
The thirty seconds I get to recharge my thoughts are not enough, though. We're already back to the Abigail, the rest of the group sans Strand waiting on the wooden platform floating on the water.
"Are you hurt?" Madison asks Alycia as she helps her stand from the raft. "What happened?"
"I don't know, exactly." Alycia huffs out, still catching her breath. She looks to the bright orange emergency raft behind us, carrying the two strangers. One, the girl we fought with; the other, a poor kid that's been badly burned in the crash landing of the plane.
"WHAT. HAPPENED?" Madison asks all of us, impatiently waiting for a response.
I get out next, standing from the Abigail's raft and throwing my duffel over the edge. My new knife remains in my back pocket, the blade as bloodied and sticky as my hands.
Travis offers a hand up to his son, who's completely wide-eyed and in shock from what transpired on land. Poor thing can barely form a sentence as his father encouragingly asks him what happened. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't-"
"We got separated." Daniel tells them, standing from the raft and reaching Ophelia on the wooden platform. Strand takes a few generous steps down the stairs, staring to the newcomers with fury in his eyes. "I almost lost the kids."
Madison sets a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You brought them back."
Alycia offers a hand to the new girl, steadying her as she takes a step to get onto the boat.
"No." Strand immediately snarls.
"They're dehydrated." Alycia protests.
"I don't care! There's no room. Not here. Not where we're going."
I frown at him, immediately irritated. We're not going anywhere. We have no destination; there's no reason we can't let these two on the Abigail.
"We don't know where we're going!" Alycia argues. She looks over to Madison for help. "Mom?"
Her eyes look up to Strand, sharing a look before moving them back down to Alycia. "Yes, we do. We're going to Mexico."
The answer is met with silence. Since when? None of us have been told this magical idea until just now.
"Strand has a place there." Madison continues.
"Since when?!" I shoot back, looking accusingly between her and Strand.
"There's food. Power, water. It's close. Baja. He's invited us to stay 'till things clear."
"Things will never clear." Nick says, passing by her with a jug half-full of water.
"Then we make it our home!"
Ophelia interjects. "We don't know that's it's safer down there than anywhere-"
"We're gonna find out." Madison interrupts.
"How do we know it's what he says it is?"
"He said San Diego was safe," I argue. "We know it's not; Baja could be the same bloody way!"
"It is what I say it is." Strand says, sounding almost bored with the conflict.
"Okay, why didn't this come up before?" Ophelia asserts her point. The rest of us nod in agreement. Sounds like something very big to withhold from the rest of the group. "Why are we just hearing about this now?"
Travis grinds his teeth as he pulls away from Chris. "Because it's necessary now. We can't stay on the water forever. Madison's right. We made a decision; we have our destination."
Wonderful. Bloody wonderful.
"And what about them?" Alycia gestures to the newcomers.
Strand answers. "They're a liability."
"Hold on-" Alycia interrupts, but Strand continues.
"The boy's sick. He'll turn."
"He'll turn if we don't help him!"
"Madison," Strand gestures to Alycia, waving her off, "please."
"Okay, fine," Alycia pleads with her mother. "They won't go to Mexico. They just need some medicine and a place to stay for the night." Madison stares down to Alycia sadly, not responding. Alycia points to the two in the raft, her voice raising louder as she screams out, "Look at him! HE'S DYING!"
Madison can't think of anything to say. She's already made her decision; what Strand wants, Strand gets.
"Are you people really debating this?" The girl on the raft asks. After everything she's been through, after all the shit she and her burned friend have seen, she looks so tired.
God, Strand, she just wants a good night's sleep. Can't we let her have that? Just a night, for crying out loud.
"We could tow 'em." Travis says. "We can tow them. To San Diego. In their raft."
"Travis, what part of what I'm saying-" Strand starts, but Travis all but yells to interrupt.
"They don't come on the boat! Okay? We're safe, they get a chance."
Madison walks over to Strand, staring up at him as he pleads, "Victor."
He stares out to the group, his eyes shifting between Travis and our newfound friends before he stalks off. Good. Give them a chance.
Once he's gone, Travis goes to the raft, staring down to the girl with soft eyes. "We can give you food, water. Safe passage, but that's all. I'm sorry."
She doesn't respond, but gives a stern nod in place. The rest of us rummage through the boat, grabbing some food, a jug half-filled with water, and some burn cream for the boy. Madison grabs some white towels for them to clean up with. It's not much, but it's the best we can do.
I hand down a few protein bars to the girl as Travis fashions a rope to the boat and the raft, tethering the two. I step away from the rest of them, hopping up the steps and watching over the edge of the first level. Madison unhooks the pair from the edge, and they slowly float out to the long length of the rope. Alycia follows me, standing beside me as I watch the pair.
"At least they're safe." I murmur to her.
"They deserve to be on the goddamn boat." She spits the words out, staring at them.
"I know. But there's nothing we can do."
Madison and Travis walk up the steps, standing beside us as they watch the pair floating. Madison tells us, "They'll be fine out there."
Then Strand comes down the steps with a vigor he didn't previously have, a meat cleaver in hand. Madison and the rest of us ask what he's doing. He ignores our cries. My blood runs cold as he reaches the wooden platform and swings the cleaver down, severing the rope.
"No!" Madison gasps. I cover my mouth in shock. Bastard. Bloody bastard. You left them to die!
He says nothing as he walks past us. All he does is stare, begging us to go against him.
We're all in shock, and we're all pissed off. We say nothing.
By the time we make it to bed, Alycia and I are as quiet as the night before. I'm changing out of my bloodied clothes, not even bothering to get pajamas on. It's too cold for my shorts and sports bra. Instead I change into new jeans and one of the tanks I grabbed from the island. I tuck my knife under my pillow, just in case.
"You wanna talk about it?" I softly ask Alycia as we both settle into bed.
"No." She answers harshly. "I'm pissed off."
I frown into my pillow, lightly grasping at the end. "Me too."
And there's not a damn thing we can do about it.
A/N: Alright, day seven is up next! I can't wait until I put it up. It's a great chapter.
Also, if any of you are interested in the knife that Tina got, here's a crappy link to a picture of it. (I have a knife-nut for a brother and he said these work really well, so I decided she should get one.) midwayusa product/976873/crkt-fossil-folding-knife-396-serrated-clip-point-8cr13mov-stainless-steel-blade-g-10-handle-black-gray
That's all together, no spaces, but fanfiction won't let me post a whole link.