(Alice's POV)
I'm walking through the hall of the building we're renovating when I see her standing by the entrance staring into the distance towards the campsite. The sunlight creates a soft glow around her and I can't help but stop and take her in. She is wearing a loose black tank top tucked into her waist, her red jacket is on the chair propped up against the wooden door to keep it open. She stands resting one leg out, a hand at the radio on her hip, she always looks so confident, so self-assured even when she's lost in thought.
I approach her from behind, "Hey," I say softly and place my hand on hers as I step around her. She looks up, and instantly I notice something different. Different but familiar. I raise an eyebrow, and she knows that I know exactly what she's been thinking about. I watch her bite her lip as she stands up straight and folds her arms. She's been caught out and I smile wildly for knowing it.
A few hours later I'm heading back to the house when I see her talking to some of the guys marking out the land with string in preparation for farming vegetables. She's pointing towards the house when she catches my eye. We hold eye contact for a second, two, three, and then she lets go but I know it's enough. Enough to know she's still thinking about it. I walk on without disturbing them and head back into the house. For a moment I feel her eyes on me, but I don't look round.
I head upstairs and find the axe sitting with a bunch of tools on a wooden table. The tools were collected over the past few months with the hopes of being able to build whatever we need. When I exit I notice Claire's jacket is no longer on the chair against the door. I stand at the entrance and look out. The group working on the vegetable patch are still there, but Claire isn't. As I walk by I look beyond the green towards the campsite, but of course I'm human now, and its moments like this that remind me that I'm still adapting to life without the T-virus.
I decide to head towards the wooded area as planned to stock up on firewood for this evening but before I get there the radio at my waist crackles, "Alice, do you copy?" It's Claire. I reach down, bring the radio to my mouth,
"Copy. Everything okay?" there's a moments silence,
"Fine…" there's another pause, another crackle "Are you still in the house?" I immediately turn on my feet and head back towards the house.
"What do you need?"
"First aid kit," her voice warps as she speaks, "it's not for me, copy" she reads my thoughts and I smile.
"10-4, I'm on it" a few moments later I exit the house with the kit in hand and reach for the radio, "Claire, what's your location, copy?" There's a crackle, nothing. I'm about to ask again when finally, her voice echo's,
"In the carpark, copy"
"Copy that, over" I start to jog, making my way across the field, into the campsite towards the entrance where a collection of cars are parked, alongside a large cylinder with fuel that Claire syphoned from abandoned vehicles during the past few months.
A small crowd are circling near the four by four, the one which was out today on a day trip in search of supplies and is back early. I head towards them and politely make my way into the centre. I see Claire leaning over someone sitting on the floor with their face in their hands. It isn't until she sits back that I see who it is.
"Chris?" Claire looks up to the sound of my voice, her eyes capture mine as she steps towards me. I sense the shock, the adrenalin in the way she moves, the colour draining from her face. She is as confused as I am. Her fingers touch my elbow gently,
"Kyle and the others bought him in, he said he was walking an A road about 40 miles from here" she explains. I shake my head in disbelief,
"How?" there's a pause as we search one another.
"I don't know" she says softly, and her hand slips away as she reaches for the kit. She says thank you with her eyes before turning and opening it at his side. I step closer and get a better look at him. Besides his full beard I notice his face masked with dirt, and there's an open cut along the length of his right forearm. He looks up from his hunched position, blue eyes piercing, full of anguish, there's a weakness I've never seen in him before.
I look around me and locate Kyle who is a few feet away, quietly I ask him to prepare a change of clothes and place for Chris to rest and recover. Claire glances up as I kneel opposite her on Chris's other side. I place a hand on his shoulder as she unscrews a bottle of whisky. Another of the many bottles we collected from that brewery all those months ago. She lifts it up over the wound when Chris speaks…
"Wait" he says, his voice dry and broken. He reaches up for the bottle, his arm weak, his hand shaking and brings it to his mouth to take a long swig. "Okay" he says whipping his mouth with the back of hand and passes it back to her. I feel his body tense, hear his muffled cries of pain as she soaks the wound. Quickly she wraps a bandage around it, holding my eye as she finishes it with knot. In that one look we convey relief and a sense of guilt for thinking he was dead, and for not finding him sooner.