"Dez, I'm telling you, she sabotaged our van," Trish tries to explain to the redhead for the umpteenth time. "We left her alone with it while we were getting supplies at the convenience store. The car was in good condition before. It wouldn't just die like that." She shifts her backpack straps around on her shoulders, the weight of the bag causing her immense discomfort. She had insisted that she needed everything she put in there, regardless of whether or not they were really all that necessary, and is now suffering the consequences.

"Trish, I think you're being ridiculous," Dez argues, frightened if he's honest with himself. Not at the idea of the blonde scientist lady being any threat to them, rather that Trish's paranoia would drive her over the edge. Every little action, every step Etta takes seems to set the curly-haired girl off.

Etta had now gone off alone to use the bushes, "allegedly" as Trish keeps insisting. She quiets her voice, worried the woman would be back any second. "We can't let her know we're onto her. Keep your voice down." She looks about herself, tense and on her toes. Etta is nowhere in sight, and that alone is enough to make the girl nervous.

"You mean we can't let her know you are onto her? 'Cause I'm not convinced." He pulls his lips slightly to side, shaking his head. Trish grumbles, something about him being too dense to see what's going on. He sighs heavily, wishing that he could find the right words – words to comfort her. To let her know that everything will be just fine, and that not every situation they encounter is a nightmare waiting to happen. That she can let herself trust again.

"Trish, just relax. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He smiles down at her, lightly caressing her cheek with the side of his hand, happy with himself. That should soothe her, right?

He's never been so wrong.

"Excuse me?" she snaps at him, causing him to jerk his hand away. He stares at her, wide-eyed, wondering what he had said wrong. She glares back at him, with a look of disbelief. "You're not going to let anything happen to me?" She laughs dryly, humorlessly. Dez frowns, now understanding.

"Trish, look, I know I'm not much of a fighter. I know you've been doing most of the protecting, but I'm here for you. And I won't let you get hurt." He takes hold of her arms to reassure her that he means it. "I'm here for you."

"Then why won't you believe me?" Her voice strains, exhausted by the effort she's put in trying to persuade the boy. "If you're really here for me, be here for me." Her doleful eyes look up into his, pleading.

"I want to, Trish…But what you're saying, it…It just doesn't make any sense. If she wanted to hurt us, she would've done so," he tries to reason. "If she wanted our supplies, she would've taken them when we left her alone with the van. She could've taken our van. But she didn't. What else could she possibly want from us? I highly doubt we have some sort of bounty on our heads." He loosens his grip on her arms, letting his hands slide off them.

Trish's gaze moves down to her shoes. Who knew that he'd ever be the one making sense, and that she'd be coming up with wild conspiracies? Everything Dez says is true, but why can she not shake this foreboding feeling she has? Is it really just jealousy? Jealousy can't possibly make her feel like this, right? Like their lives are being threatened?

"Dez, I want to believe that everything's okay, but I just can't. I don't trust her. I don't trust any of this. We have no car, we have nothing to fight with. We're naked out here with a complete stranger leading us to God knows where!" She feels her legs go weak, her anxieties weighing down on her, her fears depleting her energy. She holds onto his shoulders for support.

Dez folds in his lips, finding it difficult to see her this way. Trish had, after all, never been wrong about these sorts of things – so why would she be wrong now? Part of him wants more than anything to believe her, but then there's the nagging part of him that insists that there's still good in people out there. That not everyone is like the mercenaries they had encountered earlier. That they'd be able to rely on more than just each other to get through this.

She takes his silence as reflection, and moves away from him. "I'm going to go check on her. She's been gone way too long."

"Alright, well, I'll stay here just in case she comes back before you. Be careful!" Dez calls after her, anxious. He isn't all that comfortable with not being able to see her.

Hearing whispers puts the girl on high-alert. Not one voice, but two. The clearer one is effeminate; she can tell that it's Etta. The other, garbled and choppy, but definitely human speech – and likely over a device.

Trish tries to blend herself into her surroundings, creeping up closer to the woman quietly, trying to hear the conversation. The bright blonde hair comes into visibility, and soon the rest of her, as well – equipped with a walkie-talkie. Now a set of those would've been a useful find. Trish stays hidden behind the brush, watching and listening from a safe distance.

"We're close. Don't worry, they're still with me," Etta continues her conversation. Trish raises a brow. They. She means Dez and her, right? Were people waiting for them? Why?

A crackling sound she cannot quite make out comes through the walkie. Etta responds, "Get the provisions ready, they'll be tired and hungry. Pretty sure they've been on the move for a while. They definitely smell like it." Trish's nose flares a bit in anger at the comment. She's not wrong, though, Trish shrugs, giving her shirt a quick sniff. But is that all? Does Etta and her group just wish to welcome the two of them with open arms, sustenance, and a place to sleep? If so – why the secrecy?

Perhaps they're limited on resources, and they don't want them out spreading the word about it? Would that mean they'd be required to stay there? Trish has many questions, but the thought of being able to rest and refresh is far too compelling. Though still peculiar, she feels a little at ease. Surely, if they were going to give them provisions, they did not want to do them any harm. Maybe they would simply ask for a trade of some sort, like fighting off creepers and stalkers in return for food. Though things still do not completely add up, Trish retreats back to Dez, who patiently awaits her in the same spot.

"There you are. I was getting worried. Find out anything, Nancy Drew?" he teases, wrapping an arm around her shoulders casually as she reaches him. "Some more dangerous chemicals, maybe? Or is she hiding a giant bazooka under that tiny lab coat? Like out of a cartoon?" He laughs.

"You're enjoying this too much." She shakes her head at him.

"Hey, I need something to entertain me with. I-Spy is kind of boring out here. Not much to see." He pulls her closer. "But, for realsies, did you find out anything?" Joking aside, he actually sounds as if he's taking her seriously.

"She has a walkie-talkie," Trish starts, and Dez's brows rise. "She was talking to somebody over it. Probably someone at this lab of hers."

"Well…That's certainly not 'using the bushes'." He looks skeptical. Finally, Trish breathes out heavily, relieved that he's starting to see what she sees. "So, what she say?"

"Well, that's the weird part. She was telling them to ready the provisions, cause we're tired and hungry. It's like they're planning a welcoming party for us." She shrugs. "But if that's the case, why is she being so hush-hush about it? If they just wanna help us out, why didn't she just tell us up-front?"

"Maybe it's a surprise party!" Dez perks up, throwing out his jazz hands for emphasis, which Trish immediately pulls down.

"Dez – it's not gonna be a surprise party, you doof," she assures him, finding it difficult not to giggle at his pout. "I really don't get what's going on…I mean, it's strange, but it doesn't feel like they're up to no-good."

"You're just letting your worries get the best of you," Dez infers, his fingertips positioned against each other, pointed towards her. Trish nods slightly, tilting her head as she thinks it over a moment.

"Possibly." She exhales sharply, still not entirely convinced. Dez seizes this quiet moment, and leans in to kiss her. She responds right away, savoring the short, but sweet connection. He starts backing up, and she gives him a puzzled look.

"I'll be right back, I gotta pee!" he announces, turning around and rushing off towards the brush.

"How romantic." Trish jests, rolling her eyes at him before letting some light laughter escape. She pauses for a beat, watching him disappear into the tall shrubbery. She calls after him again, "Stay close, and be careful!"

After finishing up, as well as some conflict with a stuck zipper, Dez starts back towards the main road, trying to keep as quiet as possible. It's likely that he wouldn't be alone amongst these shrubs, creepers could come out of nowhere and his survival would depend on hearing them coming so that he can make a run for it in the opposite direction. He freezes, hearing the crunching of leaves nearby. They are not draggy or erratic. He can tell they're human.

Voices.

He identifies one of them as Etta. She's still out here?, he wonders, tip-toeing stealthily towards the sound to get a better listen. The other voice had a static sound about it, which he deduces is from her walkie-talkie.

"They're prime specimens," Etta argues, as if she's trying to convince the person on the other side. Dez's brows meet, hearing her words. Specimens? The blonde woman finally comes into sight. Dez remains hidden, staying as still as he possibly can, which is never easy for him.

"They're both young…I'd say about eighteen to twenty-two range. Fresh out of high school probably. I think they'd make great subjects." She looks about herself, as if she's got a secret to hide, and Dez ducks, hoping he hadn't been spotted. He sighs softly, hearing her continue.

"Ready the tests. We'll be arriving shortly." The static-coated voice coming out seems angry, saying something about being late. Etta purses her lips, seeming annoyed. "Be patient. You're the one who dropped me off so far away. It's quite the walk. Though, I suppose, it was helpful. The short one's still hasn't warmed up to me, but I think I'm growing on the tall one."

Dez, now with a sinking feeling in his chest, rushes off, forgetting to be completely quiet. He's heard plenty. Though, there's always room for error. It could all still be something completely innocent, right? Tests. Perhaps just physical exams? Like a check-up, to make sure they're in good health? But what did she mean by drop-off? If she was out looking for people to help, why would she tell them that she's been left behind? It all doesn't sit right for him, but he wants more than anything to believe that they're good people. Not everyone they meet must be menaces, right?

Perhaps that's just his desperate need for human interaction talking. Trish does suffice, but the prospect of being able to talk to more intrigues him. Maybe he might even introduce her to them as his girlfriend. He smiles at the thought. It's not like they've talked about this. Granted, there was never really a good time.

He spots Trish on the road and makes his way over to her. She taps her foot, impatient arms crossed over her chest.

"Have you been hogging all the water? Cause that was one long bathroom break," she badgers him. "Where have you been?! I was getting worried!"

"Okay, first of all, you're the one who's been hogging most of the water. Second, I had a little situation with my zipper, it got caught–"

"–Yeah, I don't wanna know," Trish interrupts, eyes wincing and nose scrunching. As bad as she feels for the boy, this sort of thing happens to him all too often, and she's growing tired of hearing about it.

"Anyway, I overheard Etta on her walkie." Trish's eyes widen.

"So she's still out there talking? I was wondering why she didn't come back yet." She moves closer towards him. "What did she say?" she asks in a whisper, just in case the woman would suddenly show.

"She said something about us being…Prime specimens 'cause we're young…" he scratches his head as he tries to recall all of the important information. "…and that there's tests they need to get ready. Also, she wasn't left behind by her group, they dropped her off back there." He bites down on his lip, worry growing as he reads Trish's reaction. A mixture of horror and I-told-you-so written all over her face.

"I knew it!" She points her finger at him. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" she chants, though more anxious than victorious. "I mean, there were already so many off things about her, but this takes the cake. Specimens? Tests? Dez – don't you see what they want us for? We're just lab rats to them! For this 'cure' they're working on, maybe."

"You don't know that for sure. She could've just been teasingly calling us specimens," he attempts to reason, though feeling like he's mostly trying to convince himself. "Like, maybe she wants us to hook up with her buddies or something, and thinks we're prime specimens for them?"

"That's just about the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Trish shoots his theory down, point blank. "And what about the tests?"

"She could just mean physical exams to see if we're okay."

"Dez, doesn't that sound like a real stretch to you?"

"You're telling me? You're the one who thinks she wants to use us like lab rats." She gestures a downward motion with her hands, telling him to keep quiet, as his voice had begun escalating. Just in time, too, as a rustle in the bushes announces Etta's return.

"Sorry about the delay," she apologizes as she approaches the now very skeptical couple. She brushes small twigs off her coat and pulls down her rolled-up sleeves. "A little bit of tummy trouble. Gotta be careful with the food you find out here."

"True," Trish begins, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Shall we keep going then?" Etta gives her a funny look, but submits.

"Yes, of course," she gestures for Trish to walk ahead of her. "It's just right up ahead." Trish gives her a nod, and continues forward – mentally conspiring some sort of plan to tackle this. Dez follows close behind her, now more wary, but still not entirely certain. Putting aside the strangeness, Etta just does not read as a horrible person to him. He's usually able to see that in people – the good. Although, he does at times give people more credit than they're worth, but never to such an extreme level.

The three of them march on. A large group of buildings, with what looks like a satellite placed above one of them, is now visible in the distance. On the side of the building, a logo that resembled a familiar-looking purple lightening bolt.

Now this, they hadn't seen coming. The landscape the road was paved over had hidden it well, beyond a bit of an incline. The hill hid a ditch that, if they were travelling by car, they would have fallen right into. They might've even fallen in on foot, if they hadn't heard the sounds emanating from within.

Dez and Trish watch in horror as the decaying bodies topple over one another, trying to escape with little success. Several cars had driven into it, and the fallen given no way out – they probably were easy prey to the infected. Of course, these particular types of creepers weren't the wall-scaling kind. They're stuck. Judging by their looks, likely have been for a while.

"This sinkhole's been around for about a month or so," Etta speaks up. "We know to drive around it, but we should probably put up a sign, huh?" Dez nods, his line of sight never leaving the rotting face staring right back up at him.

"So, we'll walk around it then?" Trish takes Dez's hand, squeezing it to comfort him upon reading his expression. He returns the squeeze, finally managing to peel his gaze away and look over at the blonde.

"Alright, then let's–," before he can begin, he feels Trish pulling him backwards, away from the crater, and from Etta. He looks back at her, jolted by the sudden movement. Dread coats her face as she watches the woman.

"Trish? Trish, what is it?" Dez tries to stop her from moving them further. Etta tilts her head.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"This isn't a sinkhole," Trish utters, barely audible.

"Excuse me?"

"This isn't a sinkhole – it was dug," the dark-haired girl reiterates, gripping Dez's hand tighter. "Sinkholes don't look this clean. I see the marks. This was dug." She gives the woman a hard look. "But you know that, don't you?"

"Look, Miss, we're wasting time. It's nearly sunset, and things get deadly when it's dark out. I'm sure you know that." She marches over to them, forcefully grabbing Trish by the arm and pulling her onward. "Don't be foolish, Miss."

Trish releases Dez's hand, and uses all the force she can manage to pull away. The woman's got a vice-like grip on her, however. That, Trish wouldn't have guessed. Dez tails behind, apprehensive from being near the crater.

"Trish, she's right," Dez tries. "It's not safe out here in the open. We need shelter." She ignores the boy's pleas and continues to interrogate the woman.

"Let me go! I'm not gonna be your little test monkey! Do you even know what you're doing?" Trish manages to slip out of Etta's grasp, though painfully. She feels a bruise coming in. She backs up, all too aware of how close they are to the edge of the pit. Etta says nothing, but stares back at her. The blonde's once warm, gentle eyes now stone-cold. If only Dez could see what she sees in this woman.

After such stillness, Etta's sudden rush towards the two of them comes as a surprise. Dez shifts backwards in alarm, but not Trish.

Adrenaline coursing, brain wracked with paranoia – her sense of reason has been left for dead. As the woman draws just close enough, Trish reacts immediately.

One shove is all it takes.

The woman's screams echo through the air as she falls into the pit, hungry eyes below watching her descent.

"Etta!" Dez cries out, falling to his knees right next to the pit. He sees the horde immediately swarming over her. Before he can even think to find something to help pull her out, it's already too late. The creepers strip her apart like vultures. The only thing louder than her shrieks is all of the red. They are bathed in it.

It takes Trish a few moments to realize what she's just done – for her senses to finally catch up to her. For her to breathe.

Her gut instincts had won this time. She had let it happen, sure, but she wasn't prepared for the amount of remorse she now feels. Especially when she looks up to find Dez giving her a look that rivaled Etta's steely gaze. She feels her stomach drop. A moment of silence ensues as the boy stares her down.

"D-Dez, I–I mean, sh-she was…" Struggling to find her words under such situation, she starts to shake as he stands himself up.

"You killed her." He tightens his lips. "She wanted to help us, and you killed her."

"She was n-not–," she starts to argue, weakly. Dez interrupts, not wanting to hear any of it.

"It doesn't matter what she wanted to do with us later. She wasn't trying to kill you." His firm tone of voice doesn't waver for a good few moments. "You didn't have to do this. There c-could've been another way, Trish." His resolve breaks down, and he feels himself weaken, struggling to stand. He cannot swallow it. He cannot even chew on the idea. Someone he's so close to…A murderer? Trish? A murderer? His mind spinning, he collapses onto his knees.

"Dez!" She hurries over to tend to him, but he shifts backwards, crawling away. She looks up at him in a daze. Is he scared of her? She moves towards him again, and yet again he backs away, bringing his legs in close to his body.

"Stay away from me. J-just stay away!" He holds out his hands, turning his head. He cannot face her. Not after this.

She feels a rush of cold sink into her, slicing through her body. An ache in her chest. Is he really saying this?

"Dez, I-I-I didn't…It just…It just happened, I was trying to protect y–," she tries again, her voice shaking.

"–Go away!" the boy cries out, tears welling up in his eyes. "Just…Just go." He tucks his head in behind his knees as he begins to sob, the heaviness of it all eating him alive. He remains like this for a good while, the sounds of his sobs drowning out the creepers' gasps and growls in the pit.

It isn't until he lifts his head back up to find the girl missing from his sight that he starts to harbor his own regrets.

Why must he be so dramatic?