Pam was being led somewhere. Judging by the terrain, she had to be off in the woodlands somewhere. Her hands were tied in front of her and she had a sack over her head. She knew, without a doubt, that she was being led to her execution. What never dawned on her was that there was a gun being pointed at her back until she felt the muzzle of something tap her lower back. Truthfully, she was scared for her life. As much as she convinced herself to never fear death, it was something to be afraid of every day, and this was the last way she imagined was stripped of all her belongings. No gun, no car-nothing. She felt even more empty-handed than she ever did when the outbreak began.
Trying to run would've earned a bullet into her back and surrendering would've granted the same thing. The only unfortunate difference was that the latter would be much quicker.
Most suitable for the moment at hand, it had already begun drizzling. Whether it was due to the seasons, the atmosphere was ominous and grey. And there was a constant presence of bleakness in these parts of Nebraska.
Doing as she was told, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and listened closely until the sack was pulled clean off of her head. Looking around, she could confirm that her suspected whereabouts were correct. She had never killed someone execution-style, but she had to admit that this was the place for it. Normally, she would've been a wreck but something in her reminded her to not stop fighting. She had cried too many times before she learned to develop a thick skin, even while staring death in the face,
"Why are you doing this?" she asked so suddenly, looking over her shoulder.
Instantaneously, she recognized the man as the one dressed in flannel. Although he was quite big, there was something Pam could sense in him that she couldn't sense in the other two. There was something fretful in his actions. He may have been large for his age, but she was old enough to be his mother and he was young enough to be her son. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact and the over checking of his assault rifle showed that he was merely stalling as well-possibly for his own sake. Pam knew a timid spirit when she saw one and this man was merely trying to survive like everyone else. When he realized her eyes were on him for too long, he finally decided to speak back,
"Turn back around," he said instead. He held the gun properly with both arms and pointed it towards the ground, "I just want to get this over with."
"I overheard you talking to your boss, back there," she pointed out, merely trying to stall.
"Get on your knees, ma'am," she heard him say. Just as she was trying to get another word out, he didn't allow it. Cutting her off, the young man suddenly held up the rifle and pointed it towards her back, practically pressing it to her spine.
"Don't let me tell you again," he said, sounding somewhat agitated, "Get on your knees."
Doing as she was told, Pam's knees sunk into the wet moist soil beneath her. She wasn't going to go down a damsel in distress, so she painted on a brave face and fought the tears that wanted to emerge so desperately.
However, it seemed that the guy ordered to execute her was having more of a struggle than she was. At that very moment, she began to realize which one of them had it the hardest. Every time he aimed and put his finger on the trigger, it led him to point the assault rifle back down, and it happened repeatedly.
"Shit…" he swore to himself.
Considering how fragile of a situation this was, Pam didn't want to say anything that would make him feel any more pressure than he already did, or else it'd turn into something they'd both regret. The man sighed in exhaustion and looked directly up at the sky, almost like he was asking a greater force for some answers.
As much as Pam wanted to believe that this group was beyond saving, it appeared that the worst people still had a lick of human decency sometimes.
"Look," He began, "I-"
He froze. At first, he thought he was hearing things but it was merely because his voice was out the sound, so when he suspected of yet another noise, he stopped talking. After a few seconds of silence, that's when he realized he wasn't just hearing things and that it was the yells from other Infected, he found it even more difficult to keep concentration. It was a nasty sound of deep-pitted screams and yells that were horrifying enough to damage one's own vocal cords.
Trying to look through the trees that obscured all around them, Pam's assigned killer saw what appeared to be a Runner trekking through the forest. At that very moment, Pam figured that biting the bullet wouldn't be such a terrible idea compared to being bludgeoned to death and torn apart. She wasn't sure how, but Pam was just about ready to defend herself if it came to it. Just as she was getting ready to stand, her executioner placed the nozzle of his fun back to her shoulder,
"Get back down," he commanded.
Plopping back down her knees, she rolled her eyes and turned to look over her shoulder,
"Then how am I going to fight?"
"Does it really matter?" he replied, sounding quite vexed, "You're going to die. Don't you get that?"
As much as he wanted to sound threatening, he sounded more unsure of himself than ever. They could've moved, but the executioner thought it was a better idea to face his opponents and get the job done before he made things even harder for himself.
No one would ever want to attract an Infected over to themselves, so he planned to remain quiet until it hopefully passed by. But being exposed and open without anywhere to hide, silence was of no use. The Runner sooner or later took notice of him and shrieked, exposing a recently-fed mouth. Pam was still on her knees but was turned in a position where she could see the Runner making its way towards them. She hurried her executioner and he shushed her, more than aware that having to shoot the incoming animal was the ideal choice. His gun, however, wasn't shooting whenever he tried to pull the trigger. And the more he attempted to shake and beat his firearm, it wouldn't unjam. Now, that the Runner was closing in, Pam planned to stand on both feet but her current position didn't make things simple. So instead, she quickly bent over and covered her head as her hood fell over it.
Her executioner reached for the hatchet strapped to his leg but his already occupied arm is what slowed him down. Successfully wielding himself with it, his failure to swing in time is what got him attacked. The Runner's need to slow down and strike came at a later moment and tackled the executioner. Just as she hoped, the man staggered backward and completely fell over with the infected on top of him. She could hear his swears between his strong breaths and the Runner's yells. Now having their two pairs of legs kicking about over her back, she ignored the pain and tried rolling away before the Runner could realize that she was in-fact another meal. For all she knew, if the Runner even managed to get a good glimpse of her—she was done for, and she was even more sure that her execution would've let it do the job for him.
This time, she managed to stand to both feet. Revealing a mortified face, she slowly backed away with the chance to flee for her life. This was her chance to run. The only thing she was unsure of is how far she could actually make it. If the executioner didn't manage to get her first, then the remaining Infected probably would. Running back to a church to face a bunch of armed enemies while your hands were tied was the most foolish thing that could ever cross her mind. The executioner held off the tireless runner by putting up the rifle between themselves and using it as a barrier, but it was only a matter of time before he probably yielded.
The executioner was yelping and grunting, trying to remain composed in the presence of his assigned target. If it were anyone else, he probably would've asked for help, but this young man obviously had something to prove and now was a perfect example of how it could be his downfall. As Dora backed away, her eyes lit up after feeling her boot tap something metallic. Looking down, she noticed the hatchet that fumbled from his hold just after he was tackled by a Runner.
Before she knew it, she was grabbing hold of it and closing in behind the Runner. She knew a swing wouldn't be as easy, so she aimed to be as precise as she could. Lifting her arms above her, he snuck behind the Runner and struck it horizontally at the back of its neck almost as if she were aiming to cut off its head.
The Runner let out a ringing cry and just as it was struck a second and third time, it was clearly debilitated and gave the executioner enough time to shove the limping body aside. Fighting to stand erect, he watched as the Runner's life burned out like a flame. Looking over at Pam, they stared long at one another, unsure of how to respond,
"Give it back," the executioner stood a good distance. He watched Pam purse her lips in annoyance and toss the hatchet to the ground, he reached for it, "I can't let you go," he informed.
"So, you're still going to kill me?" Pam asked.
He nodded,
"As soon as I get this gun to work again," he began fidgeting with the tool, "I'm sorry."
All Pam could do at this point was beat herself up internally. She didn't know why she just didn't allow the Runner to pummel him into the ground and save herself. For all she knew, she could've used a broken piece of glass to cut her hands free. Retrospectively, she felt like the biggest joke on earth. She failed the most important rule she constantly preached to her family, being the first to succumb to it.
"I don't know why they told me to come out here," he muttered openly, "They gave me this shitty gun knowing damn well all of these inf—" he paused. It might've been a relief to know that his firearm was working, but it was confirmed in a way he didn't really expect. Cutting the executioner off from his inappropriate tangent was a loud gunshot unexpectedly fired from his gun and it shot directly into the soil beneath, causing dirt of the designated area to shoot up at least one foot high. He was pleased to see it was working but that was soon over once they both began hearing the prominent screams of Infected coming from all around, Bracing himself he held his gun properly, "Goddammit!" he hissed.
"I can help," Pam offered.
"No!" he declined assertively.
"What if your gun jams again," she suggested.
There was a long pause and her executioner gave her a scowl that was meant to do the gun's job. Suddenly, he brought up his gun and shot a random Infected that Pam had her back turned to. Backing away, Pam put herself a good distance before she was prevented from moving too far. According to the executioner, the last thing he wanted was something to happen to him because he couldn't keep his eye on her. But the last thing Pam wanted was to be grabbed on by an Infected when she could barely protect herself. So she pressed her back to a tree and kept her eyes to all other angles.
Right off the bat, there were two Infected coming their way. A Clicker was being led through the trees, having a Runner be its navigator. Without a second to waste, the executioner shot the incoming Runner and gave a flawless pop to the next. Judging by the constant looks she was given, she could tell that the executioner didn't want to lose sight of her. Carefully, she scooted around the perimeter of the tree until she was out of sight of the incoming Infected. As more of them showed up, the more the stranger relied on his firearm, which was actually his downfall. After aiming to shoot at his fifth Infected, he realized that he was out of ammo. Nearly face-to-face with the Infected, the executioner utilized his hatchet and hacked away at the Runner's gut and then face.
Pam observed him from a safe position, eventually folding into a lower crouch to blend in with a sparse shrubbery. She would've been visible to the average person but places like this had their perks to Infected with poor vision. Judging by the rise and fall of his chest and his sloth-like movements, Pam could see that the executioner was growing overwhelmed. As much as she hoped that he would fall victim to his guilt and release her, another part of her hoped that the infected would chomp into his neck and give her a moment's chance to escape. Admittedly, she was impressed by how well he held his own against so many Infected but it was clear that his luck was wearing thin. She watched as one more Infected came far too close to getting the upper hand in close combat.
He was thrown to the ground, basically rolling around in the soil with a Clicker. It was a close call until he finally got a chance to grab the hatchet and strike the Clicker in the throat and face. However, there was more of a struggle in his fight to stand. Finally, he looked over at Pam and whistled her over,
"Come here. Quick!" he rushed. Rightfully so, Pam was unsure of what to expect so she hesitated. Judging by the executioner's reaction, he could understand it and approached with the disclaimer that he didn't plan to hurt her—not until this was over at least. He approached her and used the blade of his hatchet to cut her free, "I just need you to hold some of them off while I reload this gun. Understand?" he instructed while handing her the hatchet.
"And you're actually trusting me?" Pam questioned in disbelief.
"I'm the one with the gun," he made clear, "I don't think you'd do anything stupid."
Eventually, they broke apart due to hearing yells from more incoming Infected and Pam did her part in giving the executioner enough time to reload his gun. She just hoped that her rabid enemies gave her enough time to plan things ahead in terms of her own escape.
If life didn't have it out for her right about now, Pam couldn't think of any other reason why these things were happening to her. Pam's sight zoned in on two Clickers making their way behind another Runner, who had clearly noticed her. As the Runner slowed to attack, they were lucky to get a single hit in but Pam fought back and gave a lucky slice as its throat, taking it down in one go. Next was the Clickers, which Pam rarely faced in close combat since it was strongly advised against. She turned for a brief second and looked to see the executioner still dealing his troublesome gun. As much as Pam would've loved for him to be her saving grace, there was nothing she could do about the predicament she didn't have much of a choice of being in. She braced herself as the Clicker flailed its arms around wildly in her direction. Seeing that they normally couldn't see, Pam had an advantage and she quickly jumped aside to avoid being within its range. Since its sense of vision was like no other, Pam was given an opening before it could manage to locate her once again. Using the hatchet, she struck the oblique and then followed up with a devastating wallop on the back of its neck, instantly killing it. However, upon attempting to pull the weapon out, it fell apart. Stunned and left to stare at the wooden shaft in her hand she was surprised by the remaining Infect,
"NO!" she yelled as she started to back away.
However, the quickness of the Clicker caught her by surprise and before she knew it she was beginning pinned against a tree. She turned away being unsettled by breath and grotesque appearance, possessing a symmetrical, fungus plated face with a space that ran down the middle and into its teeth. At this point, her arms were shaking and the Clicker's fangs were closing in faster than any other Infected she met face-to-face. Although she fought, she closed her eyes and prepared for the bite.
However, from the side, she could hear a gunshot go off. Right after the second one went off, she felt the mass in front of her drop. Quickly opening her eyes, she saw her Clicker and another Infected among the graveyard of Infected surrounding them.
"Let's go," the Executioner said as he approached her, "It's too dangerous out here," he stated. Pam could see him reaching behind his back and when he finally revealed his hands, he showed zip-ties, "Put your hands out," he ordered.
It looks could kill, he'd long be dead, but he had no time to waste. Although he could've let Infected kill her, he wanted to be in a location where it meant safety for him as well because an Infected taking care of her didn't mean safe passage for him.
Pam stuck her wrists out, prepared to have the zip-ties tightened around her wrists once again. This was it—despite her wanting to see whatever good was left in this man, he was far too swept up by the brutal tides in this world. From where she stood, Pam saw something that was the last thing she wanted to lay eyes on and it was the last thing she never thought she would need to depend on. To throw him off, she threw her hands down and took a massive step back,
"Infected!" she yelled, alerted the Runner.
The executioner became quite startled but was even more perplexed by her unwise reaction, unsure whether to backhand her or shoot. But in the midst of his complex thoughts, he chose the latter, or else he'd end up dead. She knew she was no match for him but she challenged him anyway. Before he could fully turn around, she grabbed the body of the assault rifle and began tugging it,
"What…the…hell!" He struggled. Just as feared, Pam was struck with the handguard and tossed to the ground in a daze. Quickly, she tried crawling away, performing kicking movements with her feet. Now, she was staring up the muzzle of a gun. An animalistic look appeared on his face and he showed his bottom teeth, "Now you're gonna die, bitch."
Imposed by his anger and imposed by her thirst for liberation, the Runner caught them both by surprise and tackled the executioner by jumping onto him. The force was so abrupt that the firearm flew out of his hand the very last second he pulled the trigger, allowing the bullet to miss Pam by mere inches. Breathing heavily from both shock and exhaustion, she remained seated as she watched the Runner senselessly beat her executor into the soil. His agonizing screams went from clear to guttural, most likely from the evident caving in of his ribcage. Being somewhat of a finisher, the Runner bit into his throat. She witnessed chunks of flesh being torn free from his neck. She was momentarily stunned, not having seen such a gruesome scene up-close in so long, but she forced herself to snap out of it and grab hold of the flawed assault rifle that was now in her presence. Removing the untightened zip-ties, she made it to her feet and used the stock of the assault rifle to knock the Runner out and batter its face in.
"Moron," she muttered, standing over both bodies. "You shouldn't have kept using your gun."
Surrounded by nothing but corpses and incoming nightfall, she took it upon herself to search all eleven bodies. Hopefully, she could walk away with more than what she started with.
Her most painful memory was going back to the church after she escaped the forest. She thought she would've ended up getting lost, but there was something that served as some sort of beacon for her—the unfriendly scent and appearance of a colossal black cloud that rose into the skies like volcanic ash. As much as she wanted to be thankful for it, it was overall a terrifying sight. Once she reached the town, there was nothing in the church's place but a crumbling one. The active flames eventually grew and caught on to some other buildings on the strip, being so strong that Pam could feel its warmth touching her skin no matter how far she distanced herself.
Fortunately for her, the car was still in one piece but devastatingly close to the flames. Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, she ran to the car as quickly as she could, feeling the heat intensify like she was in an oven. Instinctively, reaching out to grab the handle on the side furthest from the flames, she winced and jerked her hand away reacting to the heated-up metal. Just for a moment, she could make out her backpack on the passenger's side. Using her sleeves as a layer for her hands, she safely opened the car door and pulled out the backpack.
Still believing there was a chance to save her car, she searched for her car keys—first through her pockets and the backpack. However, before she could conclude her search a heavy piece of debris came crashing down and shattered her windshield. Jumping in fright, Pam grabbed her backpack and backed away before more parts of the church began to crumble and officially ruin her car,
"Shit!" she groaned, watching her car become totaled by the falling structures.
To her surprise, the yells and screams of Infected were still stronger than the massive crackling of the flames and Pam took it as her cue to flee. She ran and ran, basically going back to whence she came from via car. Once she touched the freeway again and felt that she was safe, she finally stopped and leaned on a nearby vehicle to catch her breath and process everything that happened. Hauling her bag onto the surface of a car's hood, she unzipped it and identified two matches, a gas mask, old lipstick, and a folded, torn piece of paper. A look of inquisitiveness overshadowed her stressed gaze and her eyes focused on the letter. Reaching inside and opening it, she made out some smudged words, clearly written with the old lipstick that had been long abandoned in her car until now. Reading it, it said:
ALIVE
GOING WEST.
Despite nearly losing her life at the hands of a madman and a horde of Infected, a simple letter was what nearly broke her. She read the letter time and time again to feel reassured, but she found it difficult to look at it as a promise. The longer she pondered, the more she became worried. It might have been a personal jab at her motherhood but she didn't see much threat in a gawky, aloof teenager and a timid eleven-year-old.
It had nearly been five weeks by now and Pam was operating on very little food and slumber. She wasn't going to let up if it meant finding her family. She wasn't exactly sure where Josh and Erlina were, but she had a good idea where they were going to meet up if it ever came to it. Besides, she had an inadequate assault rifle that barely did itself any justice. It was simpler for her, so she did nothing but stay on the road. Thankfully, she didn't encounter many tunnels or bridges, so her path was absent of any potential collapses or obstacles. The only thing that gave her detours were either other survivors, vehicles, and Infected. Just by avoiding confrontation and merely sneaking past, she was able to avoid trouble that would've otherwise gotten her killed.
Rummaging through her jacket pockets, she remembered finding some well-preserved jerky by a reservation. She was sure it was mostly due to her hunger, but she thought it was one of the tastiest things she had in a while and she had a few more pieces left over. Naturally, she could've eaten it all in one sitting, but she kept some in case she needed a periodic recharge. Reaching into her pocket for one last piece, she took it out and stuck it in her mouth, having the remaining inches hang out like a cigarette. Quickly reaching into her back pocket, she took out a map—something she found on the body of an infected former FEDRA soldier and realized she was far out of Nebraska. As of right now, she was on a vacant road, surrounded by evergreens that remained dressed all season long. She figured this would be the best place to take a break. So to avoid being exposed and out in the open, she carefully cloaked herself within a curtain of pine trees. She believed that she was well hidden to a point that no one from the road would possibly see her. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out an empty bottle of water. Opening it anyway, she tipped it upright and allowed four or five drops to moisten her mouth. Unsatisfied, she let out an agitated sigh before shoving the empty bottle back into her bag.
Suddenly, she jumped to the sound of some volatile ruffling from some shrubs behind her. Cautiously turning around, she grabbed hold of the assault rifle by sliding the sling off her right shoulder and pointing it at the bush. There appeared to be no sound, but she wasn't new to Stalkers and if her suspicion was correct—Stalkers never worked alone so her best choice was to hope her rifle wouldn't give out on her. Inching closer to it, Pam craned over the bush to see exactly what she was hearing.
To her surprise, looking back at her with sane, bright brown eyes, it revealed itself to be a dog with a shiny black coat. It didn't look wild. Instead, it looked well-groomed and had a purple collar around its neck. What was it just doing here? Well, people died every day and for all Pam knew, the very same thing could've happened to the owners. As the dog stood up, it made a faint whine and revealed itself to be caught in a snare.
"Poor thing..." Pam said. She stared at it for a long time, unsure whether the dog would be friendly having witnessed trained killer-canines before. As she carefully made her way through the bushes. She knelt in front of the dog and examined it before moving in.
The first step would be to show that she meant no harm. Offering a hand to give it a scent of solidarity, she then reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of beef jerky. The smell of jerky excited the canine's senses and its little snout was held to the air and clearly sniffed around. Tossing it close enough to the dog, the animal instantly chomped at it and gobbled it down. Once it was finished, the dog undoubtedly wanted more. However, that was only a way for Pam to gain its trust and it was evidently working. Distracted by the scent coming out of her pocket, Pam reached and began loosening the bind from around the dog's neck,
"I was in your same position not too long ago," Pam muttered to it as if it could understand her. But in reality, she had gone too long without someone to speak to, "Seems like everyone will kill anything nowadays."
As their faces met momentarily, the dog gave a wet sniff and quick lick to Pam's cheek. Happily accepting the kisses from the canine, Pam was finished loosening the snare from around its neck. Once the dog realized that it was free, it immediately bolted around, running off into the woods with glee. Pam smirked and as the dog was out of sight but her smile faded. She didn't realize it until now, but the companionship was a great feeling. She remained still for a minute or two, expecting the canine to return but it didn't look like that was going to happen. Following it would've been a good idea, thinking she would've probably gotten some kind of reward but Pam wasn't going to take her chances with any more strangers.
Turning away, Pam thought it would be best to continue with her trek. Just as she brushed back the trunks of pine trees that acted as a gate to the main road, she was started by something moist on her fingertips. Looking down to her side, she saw the black pet back at her side and sniffing her pockets. It only made sense that the dog wanted more food.
"Sorry..." Pam apologized to the hungry animal. She held the dog's head close to her thigh as she scratched around its neck, "You finished my last bit. Maybe we can find something to eat," she ruffled around the ears next. It had probably been about two days since she last ate something fulfilling, so she wasn't too sure if she could even keep that promise to herself. The more she felt around the dog's head, she finally acknowledged the collar and noticed a metallic name tag hanging from it, "Let's take a look at your name tag," Pam said as she kneeled beside it, receiving a couple more kisses. She grabbed the tag as delicately as she could, "Chloe. Such a pretty name," she complimented the canine.
Continuing to follow the winding path of the road, she came across a long wooden bridge. It looked sturdy and like it hadn't been bothered in years, but that was also a factor in the problem—things naturally deteriorated over time, and without the blessing of construction workers, everything inorganic was on the brink of falling apart. She swallowed away her fear—something that held her back many times in the past and was often a prime reason why some things would go south. Hesitating at first, Pam stepped onto it with no problems, trying to be as delicate as possible. The bridge had spaces and rotting parts in some places, but it wasn't anything too serious that could send it collapsing like a house of cards. While concentrating on making it safely across the bridge, she looked up and noticed a massive hydroelectric dam off to her right. However, she paused to the faint sound of what sounded like an older man and young girl. Doing as she did her entire journey, she instinctively quickened her pace and made it across the bridge with bridge-dismantling being the last thing on her mind.
She wasn't too worried about being noticed because she was too far above. In addition, the sounds of the running river drowned out any noise as they traveled further underneath the bridge. It couldn't have been Erlina, but it still didn't hurt to double-check, especially since it had been so long since she heard the voice of a child. Following them with her eyes, she wandered to the other end of the bridge and kneeled to stay hidden. Carefully poking a head out through the large space in the wooden railings, it was difficult to make out their faces since she could now see them from behind.
The girl appeared to be slightly more mature than Erlina by a couple of years and looked absolutely nothing like her. She was fair-skinned and had auburn-red hair tied back in a ponytail. The man was a tall and massive man, built with a head of dark brown hair. During moments where he would look back to talk to his youthful accomplice, Pam could see a beard that looked like it hadn't been groomed in ages...but what else could you expect. Her hair wasn't exactly the epitome of salon-touched either. He was probably a father or guardian of some sort because he seemed to have an unreasonable amount of weaponry on him and the young girl remained personally close to his side.
Snapping out of an interesting distraction, she returned to her own business. Having already crossed the bridge and taking just a couple of more steps, a towering, fortified building that was well-hidden behind the extensive forest, came well into view. Just like any other survivor, the first thing that came to mind were things like supplies and shelter. But another question that was more important to consider—especially a place for its grand size—was how many Infected were in there and if it was possible to rid them all on her own.
Turning down to look at Chloe, she was surprised to see the young Lab missing from her sides yet again. Immediately her guards went up and she turned to see the dog on the opposite end of the bridge. Strangely enough, Chloe's attention was drawn to something in the path they just exited. Squinting her eyes to see past some of the drizzles of rain that sometimes splashed in her eyes, she noticed an Infected Runner stagger after Chloe. Chloe barked endlessly to a fault, only provoking the Infected, and quickly retreated after she realized that the enemy wouldn't fear her warnings.
"Chloe!" Pam called. Chloe turned and beamed across the bridge towards Pam and eventually ran past her. The Runner sprinted towards them and Pam picked up a large rock before it could dive on her. Getting hit a couple of times, Pam managed to slap its blows away and jam the large rock into the head of the Runner. As dazed as the monster was, she took the opportunity to push it with all her might and toss it over the bridge, sending it splashing into the waters beneath her. However, as she looked up, she saw two more runners coming out of the forest from the far end of the bridge, "Oh no..."
Pam turned to catch up with the canine that was now out of sight. Her shortness of breath came a lot quicker than she expected and ultimately became weakened and fatigued in no time. She kept trying to keep up with Chloe, but she could no longer go on. She was jogging at this point and she ran into the exact area that she spotted above the trees: A power plant. Unfortunately, there was one major problem and it was that It was fenced off and barricaded with a bunch of crates and miscellaneous junk. The other side of the fence seemed to be the only way to enter the premises.
Chloe had all her teeth show and was snarling at the two Runners that managed to quickly catch up to Pam due to their undying stamina. Panicking on how she was going to fend off two Runners, terrified her. She wasn't sure how many more bullets her magazine had left since she last checked, but she wasn't going to waste it on both. Quickly equipping the rifle, she fired the weapon and shot out a couple of bullets per second, and hit the Runner directly in the chest. Blood sprayed out its wounds and it hit the floor as quickly as the other began charging. As the second runner made its way to Pam, she lifted her leg slightly and punted the Runner back. Having no choice but to fire again, she put a bullet in its face and put an end to its diabolical groans.
What took Pam by surprise was that she didn't think there would be a nearby Clicker hearing all the commotion. It made its way towards her quickly, and once it was guaranteed that a human was in its path, it went berserk and screeched its loudest. In uttermost surprise, Pam turned, thinking her time was up. That's when Chloe jumped to her aid and threw the Clicker off its course. Hoping this would be the last time to use her rifle, Pam pulled the trigger—but nothing came out.
At a loss for words, the aggravated Clicker tackled Pam and overpowered her by bum-rushing her backward into one of the crates by the fence, throwing some of them over. Using her jammed firearm as defense, she held it up to the Clicker's throat to keep it distanced. She became weaker as she watched it gnash its teeth repeatedly. Her arms were struggling to stay erect and she knew at some point that the Clicker was going to live up to its notoriousness in physical combat.
Jumping in from the side and grabbing the Clicker by the calf, Chloe tugged at it with her fangs. Becoming distracted, the Clicker turned to Chloe and smacked the canine back by striking her snout. Chloe whined as a response and just as she was close to getting attacked and then bit Pam prepared to strike it from behind,
"Oh, God! No!" she shouted.
Suddenly, without warning, a bullet flew straight through the head of the Clicker with a second one following soon after. Obviously oblivious to the whereabouts of the gunman, Pam yelled in surprise and was frightened to the point where her heartbeat was off the charts. She was in shock, looking around for enemies who might've gunned for her next. Her eyes searched relentlessly until she heard a woman's voice call out to her.
"Are you bit!?" Pam heard. Pam didn't answer—she couldn't if she didn't know who she was responding to. Her heart still racing, she continued to scan the area with her eyes. She looked up to see a blonde woman with a rifle along with other people pointing their firearms at her, "How'd you find this place?!" she heard again, this time, a man's voice.
Then again, there was another reason she couldn't answer. Pam's vision blurred up and she dropped the rifle as both arms fell weakly to her side. Eventually feeling the same in her legs, her body collapsed. The last thing she could remember was seeing Chloe run beside her and sniff her body.
Pam felt somewhat dizzy and lightheaded after regaining consciousness, but she felt comfortable too since she woke up on a mattress. Groaning and turning over, she found it a bit difficult to even sit up. She noticed the cuts on her face had been tended to, especially the deeper one on her cheek. As she sat up, she looked around to see a few other people bunking in the same room. It wasn't completely clean and it was a little filthy with funk, but it was as clean as it was going to get compared to all the other places she had laid low in before.
"Rise and shine," said a man sitting in a stool near a doorway leading to a flight of stairs. He was a middle-aged man with long hair, some stubble, and an unspecified Southern accent. He wore an all-denim attire with a steel blue shirt underneath his fleece-lined denim coat. He strolled beside her bed and offered her a plate of warm food with a cup of purified water. From what Pam could see, there appeared to be sliced bread, meat, and dried fruit. She stared at the plate for a while and looked up at him. He, on the other hand, felt the need to explain himself, "I know you're probably wondering why you're here, but there's no need to worry. You, uh, looked beat up pretty badly. So, we cleaned some of your scrapes and bruises," he got across.
Now sitting erect, she watched as her plate of food was rested beside her. And even though these people were taking a kinder approach than the last group she met, it still served her justice to be cautious, "Where am I?" Pam questioned.
"You're at a hydroelectric dam. We brought you inside the facility when you passed out," he followed up with an elaborate explanation, "Your dog was warm and friendly though. But no worries, she's sound asleep in the other room."
"I know I'm in a dam, but I meant where—what state? What town?"
"You're in Wyoming. Jackson County," he answered honestly. He watched as the older woman closed her eyes as if she was pained and slowly shook her head. Clearly, there was something wrong, "Is everything alright?" he inquired.
She looked up in disbelief. At first, she was unsure whether or not to trust this man but it was quite obvious that a group trying to kill you wouldn't feed and nurse you to health. And if there was anything amiss, it still wouldn't hurt to express some concern,
"I've been searching for my son and my niece in Nebraska…" she scoffed to herself, "I just didn't think I'd end up in Wyoming. At least not without finding them first."
The stranger paused and looked down, giving both of themselves some time to think.
"How long ago did you get separated from your family?"
"Idk how long it's been...but," she glanced at him, seeing a genuine look of interest from him, "It had been a couple of weeks ago. We ran into another group who tried to kill us. I was taken to be executed but I managed to escape. The next thing I knew, I came back to a burning building and a note saying they were headed east."
"Sorry to hear that," he expressed with a slight gruffness in his voice, "I'm surprised you survived this long. Name's Tommy by the way."
"Pam," the mother simply responded.
"Hear me out," Tommy began, "I'm gonna give you two choices."
Here we go, Pam thought pessimistically to herself.
"Now you don't seem like such a bad lady," he paused, "So if you'd like, you can stick around and feel our community out. This is just the dam. We have a town...power and everything."
Music to Pam's ears honestly. But she was still waiting for the second choice,
"Or?"'
Tommy chuckled at her wit,
"Or we can give you enough supplies when you and your friend are ready to hit the road again. But I just want you to know that you don't have to go through this alone—no one should."