The two woman sat in silence.
The dead ones had spread out through the day, although most still lingered.
Joe's leg continuously bobbed, her hands tightly grasped around one another. Her head turned away from Bailey who sat quietly, her head buried in her hands.
"I hate you." Joe spoke lowly, her voice scratching from screaming earlier. Bailey looked up, the tears in her eyes spilling over.
"She- you would've fallen. I didn't.. I didn't have a choice." Bailey attempted.
"Ever since the first day I met you. I hated you," Joe continued as if she hadn't heard the woman.
"You were such a bitch and whenever someone got in your way you were never afraid to shove them under the bus. But I dealt with it because you were my boss. But you-" Joe's voice broke, a quiet sob escaping her.
Bailey slumped back, opening her mouth as if to say something but nothing came out.
"We would've made it. I had her, I was pulling her up- and if you had just helped she would be-" Joe stopped, suddenly feeling like she couldn't breath.
"Oh god, you killed her. I killed her." Joe sobbed, her chest heaving. She rubbed her face with her hands, trying to wipe away the tears.
"We would've died because of her! I didn't have a choice-"
"There is always a choice," Joe said, suddenly enraged. S
"Always." She repeated, more weakly.
"I'm sorry.." Bailey muttered pathetically, pulling her legs to her chest while shakily breathing out.
Joe didn't respond.
She anxiously looked around herself, feeling that something was wrong but not knowing what.
Her hand gripped and she looked down, shocked. It didn't hurt, In fact it didn't looked damaged in anyway whatsoever. As if she hadn't punched the living shit out of a vent grate.
In her other hand she held a handgun, no, Sarah's handgun.
She stepped forward, the house looking familiar and not at the same time.
Driven forward by some invisible force, she headed towards the stairs, carefully and quietly climbing up them.
She wanted to stop, in fact a quiet pleading voice kept repeating, stop, stop, stop. Loud as if someone was talking in her ear yet quiet like someone screaming from miles away.
She continued on anyway, her gut starting to turn. internally begging to listen to the voice and just stop and give up.
As she climbed the rest of the stairs, she couldn't help but feel dread as a new noise filtered into her ears.
Dead ones, and lots of them were growling.
She stepped forward, looking down sharply as glass crunched beneath her sneakers.
Glass from the window she had broken when she and Bailey broke into her neighbors house.
She walked forward, the door in front of her slowly creaking open. Her heart stopped.
There in the roof stood a boy, in his teens, his blonde hair flowing in the breeze, his blue eyes wide and fearful.
"Sam?" She breathed out, now running forward and shoving herself through the empty window frame, nearly triping in the heaps of glass bellow.
"Joe..?" Sam asked, his eyes creasing, the way they always did when he smiled. But he wasn't smiling, he was gagging. Blood poured out of his mouth.
"No!" She shrieked, lunging forward as he began to fall, towards the mass of dead ones below.
Falling forwards she grabbed his arm, holding him in the hardest grip. But with dawning horror, she realized her grip was slipping.
"Sam!" She cried, attempting to pull him up, only for her to stay put, as if her front was glued to the roof.
"Please god no, please." She begged, ugly tears escaping her.
"Joe, you don't have a choice." Bailey suddenly spoke from beside her, stunning her to silence.
"It's either him or us." Bailey coursed, holding out the handgun, gesturing for Joe to grab it.
"What?" She asked, her voice failing.
"Him or us." Bailey spoke, nearly demanding now. And Joe noticed with a dreaded expression one of her hands was reaching for the gun.
"I-I can't." She sobbed, her grip still slipping.
"You don't have a choice." Bailey suddenly spoke with venom, her hand grabbing Joe's own and guiding the gun to point at Sam.
Sam lurched up, a growl ripping from his throat. Joe screamed, looking away. His face was grey, eyes bloodshot. He thrashed, jaw snapping.
"There's always a choice." Joe suddenly said in between sobs, her grip on her brothers arm nearly non existent.
"No, no there isn't." Bailey spoke, moving Joe's finger to the trigger.
A gunshot went off.
Joe lurched forward, a scream nearly escaping her.
She suddenly jerked to the side, the contents of her stomach leaving her.
She groaned once she was finished, leaning against the wall while wiping her mouth. Squinting her eyes she could see Bailey asleep on the floor across the room. A wave of hatred and frustration grew in Joe.
It had been a dream, a nightmare. But she knew Bailey was messed up, really fucking messed up. She- she had let Sarah fall as if it were nothing, and Sam.. even though it hadn't been real, she couldn't be sure Bailey wouldn't do it again. What would have happened if Joe had been the one dangling off the roof, would Bailey let her fall too?
She grimaced, another wave of bile rising in her throat. She stumbled to stand, swaying a little before leaning against the wall as her vision momentarily blackened.
Now that she had thought about it, she hadn't eaten since the dead ones came, even at the beginning of the day she had had only a coffee and a muffin. Not to mention the lack of drinking any water.
She stumbled over to the kitchen, holding her head as it began to pound. She wouldn't mind an aspirin or two, or the whole fucking bottle.
Opening the fridge, she sighed as the light didn't turn on, and it was no longer cool inside. Now it was muggy and hot from the Georgia summer heat.
She reached in and grabbed out a few like warm water bottles, quickly screwing the cap off of one and chugging the entire bottle. She left the empty bottle on the counter, moving towards the pantry and pulling out a box of cereal and a can of pringles.
She had only been in this house a few times a year or two ago, this house belonged to an older couple who liked to travel a lot, and she had been asked to come by and feed their cat every once and awhile.
She looked around slightly as she stuffed a handful of cereal in her mouth, as if expecting the cat to come out of nowhere. But it wouldn't come, she had heard about a couple months ago the old couple had said their cat ran away, so she didn't need to watch him while they left for Cuba.
Grabbing a bag of saltine crackers, she left a bottle of water and the crackers in front of Baileys unconscious form, a frown on her face.
As much as she hated- no despised Bailey. She was all she had. Everyone- maybe not everyone, hopefully Sam had been smart and stayed hidden when shit had hit, but he was in Atlanta. As far as she knew, she was alone here besides Bailey.
With the food in her arms, she moved to stairs and began to climb up them.
Her hand twitched and she looked down at her bandaged hand.
Something was missing. Something important.
Walking into the first room she saw, she put another handful of cereal into her mouth and dropped the food onto the bed. She had been so exhausted last night, she hadn't wanted to move, let alone explore the house and find a bed.
Joe moved to the dresser, looking into the mirror with a frown. She looked like hell. Bags had already started to form under her eyes, and there was a smudge of dirt on her left cheek. She scrubbed it with her hand slightly, noticing with a grimace that it too was dirty and only made her face messier.
She turned and opened the door to what she assumed was the master bathroom, and was correct as it lead to a tiled room with a toilet and sink. She went to the sink, turning the handle only to frown as water didn't come out. She played with the handles for a bit before huffing, stepping out of the bathroom. The water must have been cut off, maybe the bombing had compromised the water lines or something.
Her stomach turned at the thought of the bombing, they had been bombed, while still in the city. It was if the military was trying to wipe them out rather than save them.
But with that huge pile of dead ones that had- had- eaten Sarah, she knows they had been unsuccessful with containing whatever virus that broke out. She swallowed hard.
If this could even be considered a virus, it was more like a disease. A disease that brings you back to life and gives you a craving for flesh. All those people had been injured fatally or had.. bite marks on them. So not only did you turn into a dead one when you die, but it's transmittable either by blood of saliva, she doesn't know.
But how can you cure someone that has died? You can't.
She sighed, rubbing her forehead as the headache became noticeable again.
She wonders if the hospital is alright. If Simon was alright. He had ran off to get help, even though everywhere else looked like hell. She hopes to god he is alright. Maybe he was still at the hospital?
She opened the can of Pringles and put a few in her mouth, crunching the chips as she looked out the window. There were only a few dead ones in the street, the rest had wandered off in the night after an explosion near Atlanta had sounded. She had been too tired to focus last night and-
her heart suddenly picked up pace.
Sam was fine, he wouldn't be caught in the bombs. He's safe with their grandparents in their condo, holed up in hiding. Scared, but alive. right?
She frowned, looking at the roof through the window. She could see where they had jumped across, where Sarah had fell- had been dropped. Tears welled up in her eyes and she hastily rubbed them away.
It was also the place from her dream. Where she had been forced to kill Sam. Her beautiful baby brother who was safe- he had to be safe, in Atlanta. Bailey had forced her to shoot him. With a gun, the gun that she had used to kill civilians. Sick people.
But the gun, where was the gun..
Her heart froze, and with dread she looked to her house. She had set down the gun to help Sarah when she had fallen, only to leave it in the panic as the dead ones got into her home. Their only protection was left in her house. She could just imagine it sitting there, mocking her for leaving it behind.
They needed that gun. She wouldn't let Bailey near it- even though it was silly to not trust her because of a dream, her gut still turned at the idea of the woman handling a loaded weapon. She had to get it.
She walked out of the room, headache forgotten. Quietly racing down the stairs, she went to the kitchen, grabbed the largest knife out of the set and stood still. What the hell was she doing? Was she actually going to risk her life for a gun?
Thoughts of dead ones breaking in again, dozens of them falling through the windows flashed in her mind. She couldn't kill a group of them alone with a knife, she had no training with fighting. She was a surgeon, not someone who deals with combat.
But that wasn't true, was it? She had killed Rebekah, she had shot those civilians and continued on. To save herself, Bailey, and Sarah. But for what? Sarah's dead. Bailey killed her, and she couldn't do anything to stop her.
She looked down at the knife with a shaky breath, her right hand tightening around it. She only had one hand right now. She couldn't do this, not alone anyway. Placing the knife on the counter. She walked back to the spot she had slept, and sat down. Leaning her head on the wall and closing her eyes.
Who was she kidding, even thinking of going back to get the gun was insane.
Bailey woke with a start, sitting up with a small grimace. She felt like complete shit, physically and emotionally. Everything had gone to shit so fast, and she had panicked on the roof. What else could she have done? Watch as Joe got dragged down with Sarah and eaten?
She glanced over at Joe who was slumped over on the ground, her chest rising and falling. Bailey moved her leg and frowned as it bumped into something.
She picked up the water bottle and bag of crackers that was left at her feet, and looked to Joe. She was the only one who could have left food out, because that definitely wasn't there when she had sat down. Or at least she hadn't noticed it if it had already been there.
Opening the bag, she stuffed a few crackers into her mouth, chugging down some water with it. Standing up with the crackers in hand, Bailey looked around for a minute, taking note of her surroundings.
She walked towards the kitchen, after noticing a glint. Upon getting closer, she noticed it was a knife, and a small pint of paranorma began to fester in her stomach. She looked back at Joe hesitently, as if she moved to fast she would get up and attack her. Surely the knife had been there before they had entered right? But doubt lingered. Why, would a almost perfectly untouched house have a random knife left on the counter? Maybe the family had left it out in their haste to flee? But what would be the odds.
Bailey began to shuffle towards the knife, unknowingly trying to make her footsteps lighter. Joe wouldn't have used the knife on her, right? Memories of earlier resurfaced, Joe saying how much she had hated- still hated her. Joe had been very pissed, even though Bailey had been the one to save her life. If it weren't for her, Joe too would be taken down and attacked by the group of dead bastards.
Grabbing the knife, making sure it didn't drag on the tile. Joe doesn't hate her that much, does she? doesn't hate her enough to stab her, right?. As quietly as she could she slipped the knife into her boot. Just in case, she reassured herself. As she went to walk away and try to forget of her anxiety towards Joe, she froze. As they were escaping the hospital, Joe had had a gun, she shot people. That fact alone didn't scare Bailey, no, it was Joe's aim that worried her. Every time she had shot, she hit what she wanted for the majority of the time, if she recalls correctly, she had shot 3 people in the head, barely missing. Slowly she turned to Joe, who was still slumped over asleep.
Where was the gun? She didn't seem to have it on her, she was only in a t-shirt and a pair of pants, which had no pockets. It could be stuffed in the back of her pants however. Edging forward slowly, Bailey eyed Joe as if she was about to jump up and bite her, or shoot her. Leaning over Joe, Bailey held her breath, releasing it and stepping back once she realized nothing was in Joe's pants. If it wasn't there, where was it? Had Joe hidden it from her?
"Just rethink- you're not thinking clearly Bailey." she spoke to herself, letting out a few calming breaths. She sat on the couch the two had ignored when they first entered and closed her eyes. Thinking back to when Bailey had woken up from blankly staring at a candle. She remebers hearing a loud thud come from the room Joe had been sleeping in. worried, she rushed to it and found Joe on the floor. She helped Joe up, redid her bandages and then there had been a thud from Sarah's room this time. Joe went to investigate and she had stayed back, too scared to face what might have laid behind the door.
Joe opened the door, then dropped the gun on the table and rushed in to help Sarah, Relieved she hadn't turned into one of thoe things. They ran up the stairs once the dead began to break in-
Bailey opened her eyes. The gun was on the table in the other house. Joe had left it behind for Sarah. Joe wasn't hiding it from her, waiting for her to let her guard down and use said gun on her. It was fine, she was and would be fine. Joe didn't want to kill her.
She layed down on her side, her eyes sliding shut. Everything was fine. She hadn't realized she drifted off before it was too late.
It was cold, and dark.
It didn't take her long to realize she was outside. Bailey looked around, rubbing her arms furiously to hopefully return some heat to her body, but it only made her colder.
Walking forward, she opened the first door she saw to the building in front of her, which led to the inside of the hospital.
Her throat clogged at the state the hospital was in. blood, blood was everywhere. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. Which there wasn't much of anymore, plaster had fallen to the ground, leaving wires and the occasional pipe hanging low into the corridors. Stepping forward she gagged, her foot sinking into a puddle of blood. She wanted- no, needed to turn around and leave. But she kept walking forward anyway, with no control of her body anymore.
She went to scream for help, but nothing came out but- laughter? She was laughing, no, she was giggling. That horrified her on a different level. Walking forward in the ankle deep blood, she followed the path chosen for her blindly. Turning to the right, her heart lurched. Down the hall, the mostly dark hall, was an open door with a stream of light shining. The blood began to dissipate the closer she got to the door, eventually she was stood in front of it, squinting her eyes at the blinding light coming though.
Even though it looked to be a safe haven, clean and pure looking. A wave of fear crashed onto her, sending her heart beating and her mouth drying. Whatever was in there felt worse then what was out here, where Bailey stood. She was suddenly shoved forward, sent tumbling into the room.
She cried out at the bright light, her hands flying up in attempt to block it out, but it had already began to fade to a normal, fluorescent lighting glow. Looking around, she realized she was in ER 2, the one she had been yesterday when shit had hit the fan. Looking to the floor, she halted at the sight of a decaying man on the floor, his fingers twitching.
Moving forward without a choice, she let out a low cry as the man began to turn to her, showing his growling face. It was the man that had been on the table, the one she had- she had-
"I- I didn't want to-" she tried, still walking forward.
"H-help me." the man pleaded, still growling, but his eyes were human. They were begging eyes. Bailey went to say of course but instead she tripped, falling forward towards the man. Fear spiked in her heart at the thought of landing on him and being eaten, but instead she felt something cold slip in her hand. She didn't have a chance to see what it was before she was falling on top of the man, and ultimately stabbing him in the head with what she held in her hand, a scalpel. A sob escaped her as she stared down at his body helplessly, blood spurting from where she stabbed his skull. She slumped to her knees, blood beginning to form in a puddle.
"Oh god no- i- i-" she covered her face with her hands, her body shaking.
"I'm sorry, please, forg-" uncovering her face, her ugly crying stopped once she noticed the body was gone, all that remained was the puddle of blood. She stared, snot dripping from her nose as something else dripped into the puddle. And then again, and again. Scrunching up her eyebrows, she gasped harshly at what the puddle reflected.
"Sarah!" she screamed as a body, Sarah's body landed with a thud in the puddle, splattering blood onto Bailey. Shakily, frozen with horror, Bailey looked up. Only to see Joe, leaned over the edge with her hand extended out.
"Joe i-" Bailey looked down sharply as Sarah began to scream in agony. Hands, a whole group of them began to emerge from under the floor, tearing and pulling Sarah under. Bailey reached forward, her hand grabbing Sarah's, and to her horror, she realized she was laughing again. But she wasn't giggling, no, she was in full blown hysterics, her face flush and eyes shining with glee.
"Sarah-" Bailey tried to call out with sorrow, only to break off in a laugh. Looking up with watery eyes, she watched as Joe now pointed the gun at her. Her eyes boiling with rage.
"Joe please, I never wanted this.." Bailey pleaded, an insane grin spreading across her face.
"I always hated you." Joe spat, pulling the trigger.
Bailey jolted forward, scattering off the couch and landing in a heap on the floor, panting for breath. Looking around quickly, making sure it had been a dream. Tears leaked from her eyes as she curled into herself.
She needed that gun.