Under Connor's guidance, Marvin drove and drove until the city sights of tall buildings and distant mountains faded to a thick, endless sea of trees. They towered over either side of the road, healthy and green despite the cold and death that surrounded them.
Death in the bodies piled up behind businesses, death in every black window, death waiting just around the corner for them all.
Jerome couldn't believe how quickly he had become a cynic. He couldn't bring himself to expect anything but the worst anymore. If there was any way fate was going to bring them down, it wouldn't just deliver one good blow. They were going to suffer. Brutally. Needlessly.
Like Brandon Woods, who had gone far out of his way to save Jerome, Rachel, and Emma only for his life to be snatched away in a matter of seconds. Through a bite, through a bullet, his end was coming either way.
Like Clarence Evans, who had only wanted to do what was best for his family and wound up taking a rifle round to the chest.
Even the men at the City Hall, who Jerome had only seen as dangerous enemies until he'd accidentally lit them on fire. It didn't get any more brutal or needless than that.
Not one bit of it was okay.
The events of the past few days had nearly pushed him over the edge. Maybe they already had. From the moment he squeezed the life out of Lancaster, Jerome hadn't felt quite right. His head was foggy, and numb in a way, as though some part of him had faded away just like his victim.
Victim. If Alaska rose from the ashes tomorrow and law and order were restored, that's what Lancaster would be, and Jerome the suspect. It would probably even be considered premeditated since Jerome had already stabbed him once months ago. Running into each other was a fluke. It had been so dark the first time they met, they didn't even recognize one another on sight.
Jerome's accent had been what gave him away. It was like everything had worked together in all the wrong ways, leading up to one final horrible, wrong moment. If he wasn't from France, Lancaster would have never figured it out.
Once again, things had gotten out of hand too quickly, and now Jerome, Marvin, and Rachel were in the company of total strangers. Jerome wanted to help them, but somehow it had spiraled into them going out in the middle of nowhere to their secluded property, while Rachel tended to a man who looked like he could turn at any moment.
Jerome didn't like it. He didn't trust these people. Dusty was cold and blank, hiding beneath his sunglasses and thick beard. He rarely spoke, and hardly showed any emotion at all with his brother dying right beside him. He and Rachel were in the bed of the truck, on either side of Ray, who laid flat. Rachel worried over him constantly, checking his pulse, trying to keep his head from moving too much, and staunching the bleeding, all while trying to not get bounced out as they rolled along potholes and bumps.
Jerome's heart swelled at seeing her do her thing, what she had trained for and been so skilled at. Apparently, she still was skilled, despite being out of practice for months.
And then there was Connor. He was pinned between Marvin and Jerome now and sat stiff and motionless, except for when he moved to point this way or that. No words were spoken except for when he was telling Marvin where to go, and after the final time he told Marvin to turn, they went along the same road for miles. There wasn't a single structure in sight and the snow whizzing beneath the tires was packed down and soiled with dirt, turning it a very unappealing shade of brown.
Finally, abruptly out the middle of the woods, a two-story cabin came into view. The exterior was all vivid, deeply gold-brown wood, with forest green trim on the windows and doors.
There was a small stable, which looked considerably older and more weathered than the cabin. The walls were faded and had a few holes, but there was a hayloft, with a tarp covering the opening. Its gray fabric was tattered and sunbleached, flapping in the slight breeze.
Marvin slowed the truck, stopping just before a gate. It was attached to a sturdy wooden fence that went as far as Jerome could see on either side.
Connor cleared his throat and glanced nervously at Marvin and Jerome. "Um, one of you needs to get out so I can get the key from Dusty."
Jerome opened the door and slid out, taking a moment to survey their surroundings. The woods were thick here, much thicker than they had contended with at Red Fox Creek. Aspens, spruces, and birch trees were clustered densely everywhere, with naturally worn paths breaking them up here and there. To one side of the stable, the withered remains of a large garden poked up out of the undisturbed snow. At the other side, a metal carport had been installed at some point, much more recently than the stable had been built. A newer model maroon truck was parked there, not a fleck of snow or frost on it.
There wasn't much to the property other than that. Trees, a cabin, and a stable. Jerome didn't see what was so special that Dusty had almost been willing to let his brother die to protect it.
Connor hurried to the side of the truck, hesitating as he glanced at Ray. "Hey," he said quietly. "How's he doing?"
Though his question was directed at Dusty, Rachel answered. "If you've got medicine and supplies, I need to start using them. Now."
"Okay," Connor breathed, his blue eyes wide. "Dusty, I need the key."
Dusty plucked the key from his inner coat pocket and handed it off. He sat with his arms crossed, and didn't seem to be looking at anyone in particular.
He was the one Jerome kept his eye on. Something about his standoffish nature was already setting off alarm bells.
The chain rattled as Connor released the lock, then he shoved the gate open. "Okay," he called to Marvin, waving his arm. "Go ahead. I'll lock up and see you guys inside."
Jerome climbed back into the truck and Marvin slowly started forward.
"Pretty nice setup they have here," Marvin commented. "They weren't lying."
"I'm just worried about what happens if Rachel can't save him," Jerome said quietly.
Marvin cut his eye at him and didn't say anything for a long moment. "His brother's an odd duck."
"Yeah, he makes me nervous."
Marvin paused again, then slyly patted the butt of the rifle that was leaned against the seat beside his legs, looking meaningfully back to Jerome.
Some of the tension immediately left Jerome's shoulders. They understood each other. Tensions were running high with a lot of the group because nobody seemed able to agree on anything, but Jerome was grateful to still have people who had his back.
Marvin brought the truck to a stop a few feet from the cabin's wide steps, which were attached to an expansive porch with ornate railings and columns. No sooner than he cut the engine, the cabin's front door swung open with a bang and two women wielding shotguns stepped out onto the porch.
One had a slightly weathered face, crow's feet lining her eyes, and a hint of gray in her long blonde hair. The other was much younger and shorter, her nearly black hair pulled back in a bun. She held her gun low and looked at the other woman with an expectant look, like she was waiting for direction.
"Dusty, what the hell is…" The woman's harsh question died on her lips as she spotted Ray's bloody, battered form in the back of the truck. Her face fell, as did her arms, the gun shifting towards the ground. "Oh my God!"
"Hush, Kathleen," Dusty told her sternly. "Get in the house and keep Robyn away from the windows."
It was then, Jerome realized with a jolt, that this cabin had electricity. A soft yellow illumination glowed in each window on the first floor, much more than a candle could produce. He stared at it in awe, realizing the last time he'd seen lamp light had been months ago, at the Fort.
Now he understood. Way out here in the middle of nowhere, if they had electricity, they were self-reliant. Sure enough, as Jerome listened, he could hear the low, tell-tale rumbling of a generator.
Kathleen slung the gun over her shoulder and charged back inside, knee-high boots clunking against the wood.
The younger girl hesitantly lowered her gun. "Connor," she called as he approached, her voice a mixture of fear and confusion. "What happened?"
Connor bounded up the steps two at a time and wrapped the girl in a hug. "We were in an accident," he said. "The truck skidded off the road and right into a building. Dusty and I were wearing seatbelts, but Ray…" he trailed off, glancing towards the truck.
Something thumped harshly three times against the truck's back window, and both Jerome and Marvin flinched.
"Hey," Dusty barked. "You wanna give us a hand?"
Jerome grit his teeth and exited the truck. Marvin went around the other side and they met at the tailgate. Jerome lowered it and Dusty crouched near the edge then looped his arms around his brother's knees.
Rachel angled awkwardly near Ray's head, attempting to get a grip on his torso without allowing his head to flop around. His face was right by her neck, so close that blood from his hair had already smeared against her coat.
Jerome's heart rate spiked. If he turned, there would be no time to do anything. But before he could think about it any longer, Dusty was already backing his way onto the ground. Rachel moved along with him, her face purpling with the exertion of supporting a man's weight. She mostly held Ray's back with one arm and steadied his head with the other, keeping it pinned between her own jaw and hand.
Jerome rushed ahead, hurrying up the stairs to hold the door open for them. A flood of heat rushed out, melting the chill off his face and hands.
Dusty and Rachel made their way up the stairs and into the cabin, Ray still held firmly between them, while Marvin brought up the rear and closed the door.
The cabin's interior was compact yet open. A large staircase was immediately across from the front door, the steps lined with rich red carpet. To the right was a wide living room, with a plaid couch and small fireplace, the logs inside glowing and popping. Dusty and Rachel hurried to the left of the stairs, where there was an equally small kitchen. All of the counters and cabinets had natural wood textures, the granite countertops nearly black.
"This way," Dusty said briskly. "Let's go, Connor."
The young man came hurrying from where he had been standing on the staircase with the dark-haired girl. He charged into the kitchen and opened a thick door by the fridge.
Dusty and Rachel disappeared inside, the door slamming shut behind them.
Jerome continued to stare at where his wife had been standing seconds before, his gaze locked onto the door. If he heard one suspicious sound, he'd rip it off the hinges.
A moment of tense, awkward silence followed, Jerome and Marvin never moving from where they stood. Then Connor came back over, offering a strained but polite smile.
"I don't think there was a chance to say thank you yet," he said. "I know you didn't have to stop."
Marvin said, "Another day, another time, we might not have."
Connor cleared his throat. "So, uh...what are your names? I'm Connor, and this is my sister Nicole," he said, nodding to the dark haired girl who still stood stiffly on the stairs. She forced a smile as her brother introduced her.
"I'm Jerome and this is Marvin."
"Oh." Connor nodded. "Nice to meet you. You're not from around here, huh?"
"In a way," Jerome said with a shrug. He already knew where this was going, and decided to cut right to the chase."But the accent's from France. It throws everyone off."
"Wow," Nicole said. "I've never met a foreigner before."
Jerome looked at Marvin, humorless and deadpan. He'd been in America longer than she had been alive.
Marvin smiled and motioned towards the living room. "Is it okay if we sit?"
"Of course," Connor said. "We've got to get the horses fed. Please make sure somebody comes to get us if anything changes with Ray."
"Sure thing." Marvin led the way into the living room. He and Jerome sat on opposite ends of the soft couch.
The fire filled the room with a heavy heat. It popped and snapped almost nonstop, having a soothing effect on Jerome that made him sleepy.
For a while, he and Marvin just sat taking it all in. Then the older man turned to Jerome, his face serious. "Are you okay?"
"It's been a rough few days for everyone."
"Rougher for some than others." Marvin studied him, then clapped him on the shoulder and rose to his feet, moving to warm his hands closer to the fire. "Just so you know, I might not be good for much else anymore, but I'm a good listener."
Before Jerome had a chance to respond to that comment, which caught him off guard, footsteps went thumping through the kitchen. He turned and found Rachel had remembered, covered in blood halfway up her arms and all over her coat. Dusty hung back and began rifling around in the cabinets, clanging pans.
Marvin turned his head but didn't step away from the fireplace. "How is he?"
Rachel pursed her lips and shook her head, slowly walking to the couch. She rested her hands on the back. "He's gonna need round-the-clock care. I think his only shot is if I stick around for at least a few days."
Jerome's shoulders slumped. "We can't do that."
"It's not fair to the others," Marvin said. "They'll think the worst."
Rachel nodded. "I know. But I can't leave. Ray might make it, but only if I stay. Dusty wasn't lying, they have everything he needs...everything we need." She glanced over her shoulder and watched him for a moment, as he set a large pot on the counter alongside a bag of rice.
"But we need you," Jerome said. "What about Lauren and Yuka?"
She sighed, her face pinched and troubled. "He asked me not to leave, how can I say no? Stopping and helping them was pointless if I go now."
"We didn't exactly know that we were signing up for an ongoing thing," Marvin said, finally moving away from the flames to cross his arms.
Rachel said, "It's just for a couple of days. Two, maybe three at the most. Our people will be okay without me for that long but Ray definitely won't."
"We don't know these guys," Marvin said in a hushed voice. "How do you know you'll be okay once we're gone?"
Rachel hesitated, then shrugged. "I think they're alright."
Jerome shook his head. It was an impossible situation. Either they left knowing they were leaving a man as good as dead, or they stayed and left their own friends and family in the dark. He couldn't let go of the idea that this could all still be a sham, and as soon as he and Marvin were gone, they'd hurt Rachel.
But Emma...they couldn't stay gone for days and do that to her. One of them had to get back to her.
"I guess you're staying then," he said, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He stood up and embraced her, grazing her cheek with a kiss. He whispered in her ear, "Don't ever give up your weapons. Don't let it come down to you or them. Just do what you have to do."
Rachel pulled away and stared at him, her eyes wide.
That look was like a punch to Jerome's soul. It was as if she didn't recognize him. He slowly stepped away from her and returned to the couch, watching the flames as they danced.
Those Courtney had lost were at the forefront of her mind, even more than usual. She'd spent the past couple of nights on the road doing a lot more tossing and turning and thinking than sleeping. Whenever she did doze off, her dreams were filled with her family and left her feeling empty inside as soon as her eyes opened.
Her mother. Her grandfather. Her brothers. They were just ghosts, haunting memories of happier, better times she would never have again. She missed them every day, in a way that ached deep in her chest.
The days before were always running through her head, especially when she was trying to sleep. Every vacation, every family dinner, every time they played a board game, every summer vacation where she and her brothers made up endless ways to entertain themselves. It seemed like the sun would never shine that brightly again. She knew for certain she'd never be that happy again. Those losses would weigh on her for the rest of her life.
And then there was her grandmother.
Peggy was kicked back on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table, working through a crossword puzzle book she'd found in the apartment. Courtney stared at her, hot claws of anger climbing up her neck. She never spoke about any of them, never showed the slightest sign that she even cared.
If Courtney even dared to speak their names, she knew she would be in for a screaming match. Peggy never wanted to talk about them. It was like once someone died, they completely ceased to exist, even their memories.
She'd had enough of it. Peggy made the final months of her grandpa's life miserable. Courtney watched the hurt flare up in Dean's eyes everytime she blamed him for the death of their daughter, all because she refused to admit that a bite from a walker was a death sentence. It was pure stubbornness.
He'd died thinking his own wife hated him, probably believing she was right, questioning if the death of his daughter really was on him.
Courtney moved from where she had been standing in the kitchen to a chair beside the couch, sinking down slowly. She observed Peggy as she solved her puzzle. So focused, so relaxed.
Something stirred in Courtney's gut, something dark and ugly. Nothing good ever came of her speaking up, but the hot pounding in her head was becoming too much. She'd kept her mouth shut for too long.
"Grandma," she began, and that was as far as she got before Peggy interrupted her.
"Why don't you go check on Yuka?" Peggy didn't look up from the book, chewing on the end of her pen.
Courtney blinked, and the words she'd planned on saying next caught in her throat. "Why?"
"Because someone needs to make sure he hasn't died in his sleep, and I don't feel like getting up." She finally looked up, catching Courtney's eye. "We've already got enough walkers trying to bust in here, we don't need one right under our noses. He didn't look great this morning."
Courtney sank back as though the air had been knocked out of her. Just like that, every bit of nerve she built up had vanished. Her grandmother made no sense. She had never clarified whether or not her beliefs had changed regarding walkers and bites.
Of course she hadn't. That might require her to admit she had been wrong, and that wasn't something Peggy Peterson did.
Courtney hesitated for a moment, gripping the arms of the chair and trying to will herself to speak up, but just as before, her courage was fleeting and gone in an instant.
Lauren, who sat in the other chair diligently watching the door, exhaled heavily. "So, is this a permanent thing now? Are we just going to keep wasting food we don't have on a trigger-happy asshole?"
Peggy shrugged one shoulder and returned her attention to her puzzle book. "It's not up to me. Ben says we can't let him starve."
Lauren muttered, "Why not?"
Courtney silently stood and went to do as she was told. Just like always.
As she walked down the darkened, short hallway, she hardly even registered her surroundings. She knew now that something she'd been trying to stamp down and keep at bay for months was true.
She hated her grandmother.
The bedroom door was open a crack, so Courtney leaned close and listened, but didn't hear a thing. She knocked a few times and called, "Yuka?"
There was no answer, so Courtney crept inside. She edged her way along the wall, not wanting to get too close to the bed where Yuka's form lay still as stone beneath the blue blankets, and quickly raised the window's shade once she reached it. Dull light beamed into the room, dappling the dark posters for bands and movies that lined the walls.
Courtney squinted, but now she could see the black tufts of Yuka's black, silky hair peeking out of the heap of covers.
"Yuka?" She said, slowly approaching the bed. When he still didn't answer, she gave the mattress a couple of gentle kicks. Yuka snorted, and the blanket went flying to one side as his legs flailed. "Sorry!" She exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. "It's just me, I'm sorry!"
His panicked movements halted, and he splayed a hand against his heaving chest. "Oh. Holy crap," he said, gradually relaxing. He narrowed his eyes at her against the light. "Courtney, right?"
She nodded meekly. "I didn't mean to scare you," she said. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."
"Ah, I'm alright." He looked to the remainder of his left arm. The bandage held the faintest tint of pink. "I'm not bleeding so much now, and no fever has set in, so I can't complain."
"Yeah. That's good." Courtney rocked on her heels. "So...do you...do you need anything?"
He shook his head. "Nah. Rachel brought me breakfast and water this morning, I'll be good for a while. I don't have much of an appetite right now."
Only then did the empty plate and half-drunk bottle of water on the nightstand catch Courtney's attention, and she blushed again. He must've thought she was so stupid. But before she could apologize again, Yuka said, "Thank you for checking on me."
"You're welcome." Courtney lingered a moment longer, then backed her way towards the door. "Um...I'll just let you rest now," she said, quickly dipping into the hall. She leaned against the wall and hung her head, silently cursing herself.
Even though Yuka was older, probably in his early twenties, and she was sixteen, he was handsome. His dark eyes and defined jaw had sent a flutter through her stomach the first time she saw him, even though he'd been passed out from pain and blood loss. She knew it was crazy, but he was the only guy even remotely close to her age she'd laid eyes on in months, and his very presence had turned her into a bumbling idiot.
She sighed, trying to force the awkward encounter out of her mind, and returned to the living room.
Ben stood by the front door, his face pale. He'd been leaving to check on the situation with the walkers every twenty minutes or so, and came back looking a little more dejected each time.
Now, as he faced Lauren, there was a definitive waver to his voice. "It's bad down there," he said. "The glass is starting to crack."
"What?" Lauren sat straighter, her eyes bugging. "Well what the hell are we doing just sitting here then?"
"We don't have many options," he said slowly, his gaze bouncing around the room uncertainly. "I don't know where we would go. And with Rachel, Jerome, and my dad out there, how would they find us?"
"Would you like us to just sit here and get eaten?"
"I think we can hold our ground here," he said, his voice a little firmer. "We can't afford to keep running, especially not those of you that are hurt."
Peggy set her book down on the table and shifted her focus to Ben. "Aren't the walkers slowed down?" she asked. "Maybe we could take care of them before they break in."
"They aren't that slow," Ben replied. "They're still dangerous."
"No shit," Peggy said. "But they're lined up right outside the doors, so why not hold one side open just enough for them to poke their ugly faces in, then kill them off?"
A hush fell over them as they considered it. Ben shared a look with Lauren, then rubbed a hand along his jaw thoughtfully. "That might work," he said. "The problem is, we need able-bodied people to deal with them."
Courtney hesitantly stepped forward. "I can help," she offered.
Ben's eyebrows hitched upwards. He shared a questioning look with Peggy.
Peggy shrugged. "She can handle herself, but so can I."
Ben paused a moment further, then nodded. "Alright. As long as you guys are sure you can handle it."
Courtney's heart sped up, excitement electric and hot in her veins. At last, she was gonna be given a chance to do something that mattered.
Ben said, "But we'll need more. The three of us can't deal with it alone."
Lauren reluctantly added, "Not to bring up a touchy subject, but...Samantha could help, too."
A grim look fell over Ben's face. "Yeah," he agreed, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "Is she still asleep?"
Peggy scoffed. "She's been in that bedroom all night and all morning, I think she's doing a lot more avoiding than sleeping."
As Ben headed down the hallway, he had to force himself to keep moving, fighting the sensation that he was wearing fifteen-pound ankle weights on each foot.
He didn't want to talk to Samantha, let alone ask for her help. It went beyond swallowing his pride. This wasn't somebody he trusted, she had never shown herself to be anything but weak, but circumstances were so dire that simply having a fully intact body made her eligible to be on the front lines, protecting everyone and everything they had left.
Once he reached the bedroom, he took a deep breath and gave three heavy knocks on the door. Only a few seconds passed before Samantha called, "Come in."
Ben pushed the door open and took in the space. The walls were light pink and there were flower decals here and there. Samantha laid on her side on a single bed with a yellow floral duvet. She slowly rose to a sitting position, her eyes wide and apprehensive.
Ben sank down at the opposite end of the bed, as far away as he could get. "So, have you heard?"
She blinked. "About what?"
"The walkers downstairs. Did anyone tell you?"
She crossed her arms. "No. Of course not."
Ben scratched the back of his neck. "Well, the plan for now is to stand our ground here. I'm gonna need all the help I can get dealing with them."
Samantha didn't say anything for a moment. She just stared at him, seemingly trying to read him. "You never asked for my help before."
Ben snorted. "Let's be honest, you never presented yourself as someone worth asking."
Her face hardened, her lips settling into a pale line. "I have changed."
Ben exhaled sharply, dipping his head. He had to keep his mouth shut. If he told her his true thoughts, which were that she was even weaker than he'd thought for believing a few weeks with a ridiculous, arrogant man who promoted himself from Private to Captain was enough to change her life, things would just get even worse.
Instead, he just nodded along. "That's why I'm asking for your help now," he said.
She smiled, her expression becoming much lighter. "I'll be happy to."
Ben stood to leave but lingered by the door, his hand on the knob. He turned to face her again and said, "I'm not gonna make you leave, but I want you to know you've still got a long way to go."
Her face fell ever so slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Respect is earned," he said simply, leaving the door open as he left.
The truck rambled back along the packed-down, dirty road and out onto the cluttered streets of Anchorage. Dusk was nearly upon them, the sun casting strange pinkish shadows across the snow.
"Ben's probably going to be pissed," Marvin commented, breaking the long, comfortable silence.
"Yep," Jerome agreed. "Starting to make sense why he never wants to let us out of his sight, eh?"
He'd estimate they had been gone about five hours, which was too long for the "get in, get out" mission they were supposed to be on. The unpredictability of their everyday life wasn't something Jerome liked. There was always something around the corner, another obstacle, another problem, another tragedy.
Marvin swerved abruptly to avoid a streetlamp that laid across the road. A crumbled, partially burnt car was jammed up against the broken remains of where it had been cemented near the sidewalk. He sighed and said, "I always hated the city."
Jerome was quiet for a long moment, watching abandoned building after abandoned building whiz by. He wasn't going to say it out loud, but he already wished they had never left Red Fox Creek. Even with biters in the woods, it had felt safer and there weren't nearly as many surprises.
The rest of the ride was made in a comfortable, peaceful silence until Marvin made a final turn onto the long stretch of road with their apartment building.
"Uh oh," he said, pointing a finger at something beyond the windshield. His voice was strained with concern. "Look at that."
Jerome squinted as the truck slowed to a crawl. Several forms lumbered about the apartment's parking lot, like amorphous shadows in the indigo light. Many were crowded at the front doors, their arms slowly but purposefully slamming against them.
Cold swept through Jerome, seizing his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. All he could think about was Emma, so far away, behind a wall of biters.
"What are we going to do?" Marvin asked. The truck jerked as it came to a total stop. He swallowed hard and pushed his glasses back up his nose, turning to Jerome. "Can you tell if any have already gotten in?"
"It doesn't look like it," Jerome said, the urgency to act taking over. He unbuckled his seatbelt. "Come on, we need to hurry. I bet we can find a way inside from the back."
Marvin hesitated then quickly followed suit, his rifle held low. The bluish lighting helped conceal their movements as Jerome led the way away from the truck and across the sidewalk. He ducked down behind a low brick planter, the flowers withered, and pulled Marvin with him as some of the biters started to turn in their direction.
Marvin hissed, "Shit, you think you could give me some warning?" He readjusted so the rifle was clutched to his chest.
The snow was wet against Jerome's knees, making them sting. "Sorry," he whispered. "I think they saw us."
Marvin glanced from side to side. "We're faster than they are, let's just find a way inside."
Jerome peeked around the corner of the planter, then nodded once he found their path as clear, motioning with his arm for Marvin to follow.
As they headed out into the open space beside the building, the biters caught notice. Many kept pounding on the doors but a few abandoned the effort and started trailing after the living, their movements jilted.
Jerome stayed close to the wall until they reached the end, at which point he swung wide to see what awaited them. The back lot was clear, nothing but snow and some long-forgotten garbage to be found. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the back door and pushed it open, holding it aside for Marvin to enter.
They were thrust into darkness as Jerome shut it behind them. For a moment, they just let their eyes adjust.
"Here are the stairs," Jerome said, moving towards the vague ascending shape. "I think this is our best bet. Watch your step, Marvin. I don't need you taking a tumble."
Marvin said nothing as they hurried upstairs, stopping when they reached another door. Jerome held his pistol low in one hand and pushed the door open with the other. Both of them relaxed a bit once they realized they had found the floor they'd been staying on.
"Hey, we're back," Jerome announced, charging down the hall and into the first of two apartments he knew his group was staying in. He immediately stopped at the sight of a fresh sprawl of blood on the teal rug, bright red and spanning nearly two feet long.
Marvin stumbled into his back, not expecting him to halt so suddenly, and huffed irritably until he too noticed the floor.
"Don't worry," Lauren said. She sat on the couch, her injured leg straight out, a rifle held firmly across her lap. "That's not from any of us."
Jerome's concern settled marginally, though he was still confused. Before he had time to ask any questions, Emma came from down the hall, a big smile on her face.
"Hi, papa." She jogged over, avoiding the bloodspill, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Where's mom?"
"She's okay. She just stayed back to help some people," Jerome answered, kissing her atop the head.
Lauren's eyebrows raised upwards. "What?"
Marvin said, "It's a long story. Where is everyone?"
Lauren's scrutinizing gaze lingered on Jerome a beat longer, then she answered, "Down in the lobby, trying to keep walkers out. Ben had to fire his gun and drew some in."
"We saw." Jerome sighed, reluctantly pulling away from Emma. "You think they'll need my help?"
Lauren replied, "Well, it's Ben with Courtney, Peggy, Samantha and Carmen…"
Jerome couldn't help but wince. Peggy and Samantha weren't exactly the best people to have on hand in a crisis. He said, "I better get down there."
Emma watched him sadly. She asked, "But what about mom? Who is she helping?"
"Just some people we ran into," Jerome explained. "I'll fill you in later when everyone can listen, my chérie."
Lauren huffed. "Who are they this time? Some ex-cons, maybe a misguided band of serial killers?"
Jerome frowned, but found he was at a loss for words. It was hard to defend himself when she laid there, sickly pale with her bad leg propped up, and the man who possibly did that to her sat down the hall thanks to him.
Marvin stepped a little closer, half obstructing his view of Lauren. He asked, "Do you think you'll need my help, Jerome?"
Jerome didn't answer right away, his attention still divided. He glanced guiltily at Lauren one more time then headed towards the hall. "There weren't that many biters. I'm sure we can handle it," he said.
Down in the lobby, a strange but successful rhythm had been developed. Peggy and Courtney manned the doors, swiftly opening and closing them every few minutes to allow walkers to enter. Ben and Carmen dispatched each one that stepped inside with prompt stabs to the skull. Then as soon as they dropped, Samantha hauled the walkers off to the side, keeping the floor clear.
Peggy yanked her door open, a scrawny walker with stringy hair staggering inside. Ben leapt forward and pushed on its shoulder to bring it down to his level, then jammed the blade of his knife into the loose flesh of its hairline.
"Nice," Carmen said. "That makes ten."
Samantha came forward and dragged the body over with the others, and Ben saw that Carmen was right. The corpses lined neatly along the wall were proof that the plan, against all odds, was working.
He smiled and adjusted his grip, flexing his fingers along the polished wooden handle of his knife.
Another walker beat its bony hands against the door, this time on Courtney's side. The girl glanced around, ensuring they were all ready for another, then let it in.
"I got it," Carmen said. She lunged forward, and just as she did, Samantha instantly appeared at the walker's side. Her blade narrowly missed Samantha's arm and instead just grazed the saggy skin on the walker's neck. It gurgled and rasped but kept coming.
Ben shook his head and stabbed it in the temple. Before he even had time to pull his knife out, Samantha had started.
"You did that on purpose," she said, hands on her hips as she glared at Carmen. "You tried to stab me."
Carmen laughed, her gaze a mix of amusement and surprise. "What? You threw yourself over here. If I wanted to stab you, you'd already look like swiss cheese, you little - "
"Okay," Ben snapped. "Samantha, wait until it's already on the ground before you come over here, like you did the other ten times."
Samantha glowered at them both then stalked over to the body and dragged it off.
Ben and Carmen both whirled around, knives ready, as the wooden door behind them creaked open. Jerome slipped into the lobby and held his hands up in surrender.
"Hey," Ben greeted. "Everyone okay?"
"Yeah."
"I'd ask how it went but we've got a bit of a situation here."
"I see that," Jerome said, his attention turning to the grandmother and granddaughter duo at the doors. "I can take over for one of you," he offered.
Peggy scowled. "We've been doing just fine without you, believe it or not."
Jerome deflated a little. "Sorry. If you don't need my help, I'll get out of the way."
Samantha crossed her arms. "It's best if you do," she said. "We've got a good thing going here."
Ben's temper spiked. "Christ, you guys are like a bunch of little kids," he said. More walkers began to gather, slamming themselves carlessly. Peggy and Courtney were both pushed, the doors bucking open slightly despite their hold. The two of them shared a look of concern.
"Focus, people," Ben said. "Jerome, take over for Courtney."
As Jerome hurried across the lobby and replaced the teen's hold on the door, she stepped away, her expression rather crestfallen.
She asked, "What do I do now?"
Ben said, "You've done a good job but they're getting too riled up. Just wait, if your grandma needs to rest, you can jump back in." Before anyone could object, Ben waved his hand, motioning for them to continue.
Peggy pulled her door aside and a younger female walker all but fell into the lobby, her dark braid frayed. As Peggy went to shut the door, the foot of another walker got pinned between it and the jamb.
Carmen dropped the female walker while Peggy struggled to hold the door. The walker's face was pressed up against the crack. A gray, gnarled hand clawed desperately around the edge, almost touching her arm.
Samantha pushed her way in front of Ben and Carmen and shot the walker. Everyone cried out at the gun being discharged in such an enclosed space, and the walker fell, further wedging in the crack of the door.
The walkers grew even more agitated, hurling themselves against the doors with all their might.
"You fucking moron," Carmen snapped. "This is exactly how you almost got us killed before."
Ben grabbed the corpse by its leg and began to pull, but another was already pressing against the crack, half standing on the body. "Shit," he grunted. The walker's flesh sloughed off into Ben's hand along with a bit of the material from its pants. He grimaced and tried to sling the muck off, only partially succeeding before he simply wiped it on his pants.
"We're gonna have to fall back," he said.
"How are we supposed to do that?" Carmen asked. "If they move away from those doors, the dead are coming in."
Ben went quiet. His eyes were wide, watching as the wall of walkers pushed relentlessly.
"Okay. Thank you, Ben." Carmen looked at Jerome and Peggy. "I don't think you have any choice but to run. Go back inside, and quick."
Jerome eyed her injured leg, splinted pathetically with a thick tree branch and duct tape. He looked at Peggy. "Can you guys run that fast?"
"I don't recall you being a track star," she said. "Worry about yourself."
The door bucked against Jerome's hold and he fully bore his weight against it. His boots slid against the floor and he grit his teeth, fighting to hold his ground. Peggy was being thrown around helplessly, only she occasionally rammed herself back against the door, almost as if she was retaliating.
"Carmen's right," Ben said quietly. He moved to the wooden inner doors and opened just one. "Get back inside." Jerome cut him a concerned glare, and before he could ask any more questions, Ben added, "I'm gonna bring up the rear and then we can try this again from the other side."
Jerome shook his head "You're gonna have two seconds before they're on you. There's got to be a better way."
"There isn't. Now go," Ben said sternly. Samantha, Carmen, and Courtney headed into the hallway, where the staircase leading up to the apartments stood and long-forgotten mailboxes lined the wall.
"Okay," Jerome breathed, mostly to himself. "We gotta do this at the same time, okay Peggy?" She nodded and watched closely as Jerome counted to three with his fingers, then they both pushed off.
The doors immediately burst open with a sea of slow-moving walkers. In such a small space, however, it didn't matter how slow they were. It mattered how quickly the living could move.
While Jerome rushed past Ben and waited just on the other side of the threshold, Peggy hadn't made it more than two steps. The body wedged on her side had never been removed and she tripped over its leg, immediately tumbling to the floor.
Peggy disappeared among the mass of walkers. She gave a panicked scream and flailed about, managing to scoot back until she was up against the wall. A couple slowly bent down towards her while more closed in.
Courtney screeched, "Grandma!"
Ben abandoned his post at the door and charged back towards her, firing his gun recklessly as he tried to clear those closest to her, and succeeded with the two that were about to chomp her legs. He screamed, "Get up!"
Her face was pale, without any of the usual crankiness or humor, as she stiffly got to her feet. At some point, she'd drawn a small pistol from within her coat. She aimed at the nearest walker, her crooked fingers curled gracelessly around the grip.
When she pulled the trigger, nothing happened. Stone cold dread spread throughout the group as silence replaced what should have been deafening gunshots.
Peggy's expression morphed into one of sheer panic as she tried to fire twice more. Those were the only chances she would get.
Walkers were flooding in through the front doors as if a dam had busted. They swarmed her and she dropped to the floor screaming.
"No!" Courtney wailed.
Through the swarming mass of undead, Ben caught sight of Peggy's face as one walker sank its teeth into her cheek. She bellowed, the agony erupting from deep inside.
"Grandma!" Courtney's voice was raw with pain and sorrow. She dropped to her knees, sobbing.
Ben was unable to look away as a walker tore into Peggy's chest right through her coat, blood splattering on the beige wall behind her. Another started on her leg. Within seconds, almost every walker in the lobby was flocking to her. His mind flashed back to just an hour ago when Peggy had volunteered to help.
A gunshot boomed, pounding against his ears, and wet muck splattered against his back. He whirled around just in time to see a walker fall to the floor just inches from where he'd been standing.
Jerome was there now, gun in hand. He took a handful of Ben's jacket and dragged him back with the others, but some walkers had already slipped inside. Jerome planted both hands against a walker's chest as it reached the doorway and hurled it backwards, sending it crashing into the others clustered around Peggy's motionless, bloody form, then pulled the door closed.
Courtney was on her knees by the staircase, sobbing and wailing, as Carmen grappled with two walkers at once. Samantha was nowhere to be seen.
Running purely on autopilot, Ben surged over to Carmen and stabbed one of the walkers in the back of the skull, then hurled the other one away from her. Jerome stepped in then, ending it with one shot to the head.
"Thanks," Carmen breathed.
"We've gotta get out of here," Jerome said. "Me and Marvin came in through the back and it was clear."
Ben stood hunched over, his hands on his knees. He couldn't believe this. They were just supposed to be taking care of a few walkers and now Peggy was dead.
All it took was for her to trip. One wrong move, one hesitation, and it had cost an old woman her life. It had cost a teenager the last family member she had left.
As Ben caught his breath, the creaking of the doors grew louder and more intense. The hinges popped against the strain of so many walkers. Carmen stiffened, her knife raised defensively, while Jerome backed closer to the stairs.
Ben's heart sank as resignation set in, followed by a wave of dread. It was over, they couldn't stay in a building with the dead this hell-bent on getting inside, it was a matter of time before they did. The apartment wasn't worth losing one life, let alone risking more to try and take out the walkers that were left.
They were going to have to leave and go out in search of somewhere to stay, even for a night or two. Again.
How much longer could they keep doing this? How much more could they lose?
Those were the questions cycling through Ben's head as he motioned for the others to follow and led the charge upstairs. This group had been built on a shaky foundation since the beginning. For the most part, they were average Joes with little to no survival skills. These were people that worked nine to five at a job they hated just to pay the bills, then came home and binge-watched their favorite shows on television. They were college-aged women and small children, a few of which might have gone hunting with a relative or fished in creeks, but that wasn't going to save their lives.
Everything was slowly falling away, slipping through Ben's fingers like sand. The ammo was running out. The medical supplies were running out. The food was almost gone. They were about to run into the unknown, yet again.
He wondered how much longer he'd be able to keep up this facade. He didn't want to see people die, but not everyone was meant to survive. His own incompetence was sending them to the grave even faster.
The days were numbered for every one of them. This prospect was something Ben had been mulling over for a while now, and he knew his father was right. He wasn't a leader. Because these people, the ones he'd taken responsibility for, weren't equal to him as they should've been.
Those that he loved were going to come first. Whatever that meant.
Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Survival of the fittest wasn't a thoughtless phrase anymore. It was reality. And they were all just going to have to make the best of that.
A/N: This was so cathartic to finally write. I've actually had this planned for half a year or better so it's been killing me to keep this under wraps as everyone has wondered what'll happen to Peggy! RIP. Thanks for reading!