Knee Deep in the River Chapter 3: Crippled, But Still Alive, a last of us fanfic

Chapter 3: Crippled, But Still Alive

(Late Summer, Pacific Northwest)

Clack.

"This is so stupid."

Clack.

"Where the fuck am I going?"

Ellie didn't know the answer to her own question. She had a basic plan, yes. Keep scavenging the surrounding area for fresh bandages or cloth that could be supplemented for bandages, and keep changing them out until her stump healed completely. But then what? Head back to Jackson? No, that was impossible. The soldier destroyed it, even though that ended up destroying him. But where else could she go? Boston? No, much too far away. Wherever she chose, the closer the better.

As she made her way down the street, she felt like kicking herself for not paying attention during Maria's town meetings. Every week, Maria would have a town meeting where she would address any concerns the townsfolk had, assign duties, and keep everyone updated on inventory shortages, if there were any. She would always end the meeting with a reminder of where their meet-up spot in the event of a town evacuation would be. Usually, by the time the meeting would close, Ellie was chomping at the bit to leave. It didn't help that in the last couple of months she found something else that distracted her.

Or, more accurately, someone. Elizabeth had been quite the distraction. When Elizabeth wasn't poking and prodding her, grinning when she got a reaction from Ellie, she was up doing announcements on the status of everyone's gear. Because of her knack for mechanics, Elizabeth had been in charge of repairs and the supply cache for anything related to gear people needed on outside patrols. Ellie would always watch when Elizabeth would deliver yet another warning to be careful with supplies as parts were harder and harder to come by, her usually soft voice taking on an almost aggressively stern tone. As nice and shy that she was, nobody fucked with Elizabeth's gear. Nobody.

Ellie really liked her. It might not have been love, not just yet, but Ellie definitely had something going for her. They related quite well. Elizabeth was not Riley. That was certain. Riley was rambunctious where Elizabeth was quiet. Riley took risks where Elizabeth played it safe. Riley was a tomboy, Elizabeth was an egghead. However, Elizabeth had strengths where Riley had had weaknesses. Elizabeth was more open about herself whereas Riley was more reserved. Elizabeth dealt with her trauma head on, while Riley hid under a casual veneer, only occasionally opening up in rare moments of vulnerability and trust. Riley was impulsive and rash where Elizabeth was calm and collected. But both of them were brave. Just in different ways.

Ellie mentally kicked herself again, and probably would have done so literally if she had two feet. She needed to stop comparing Elizabeth to a dead girl.

"I'm not just a dead girl, Ellie," she could hear Riley saying in the back of her mind. Ellie knew that. Riley was more to her than just a dead friend. She was her first love. Her first kiss. Her first time. Pretty much her first for everything. Probably one of her only friends at the Boston 'orphanage'.

The crutches continued to clack every time she made another step on the ancient pavement.

Clack.

Why the hell did I cut off my foot?

It seemed like such a prudent thing to do at the time. It was infected, getting gangrenous. It had a hole through the arch, and the toes didn't have any feeling left in them, failing to respond as she tried to wiggle them. She looked down at her stump. She had a mixture of emotions regarding her missing foot. She was angry that she would never be able to walk, angry because it wasn't fair that she had to do it alone, angry that she was stupid enough to get shot that badly in the first place, angry because it hurt so badly even though it was nearly healed. She was scared that she couldn't outrun infected anymore, scared that her crutches would attract them with their noise, scared that if someone found her foot, they'd assume she was dead, scared that she'd never find Joel or Amanda or Elizabeth or Maria or Tommy. She was scared because she was wounded.

She was angry and scared because she was alone. This was not like last winter, where the fear of Joel passing kept her going. This was not like last winter, where she could run and fight. Joel wasn't there to bring her back when she lost herself. Joel wasn't there to keep her afloat.

Shit, that's another thing that's going to get me killed.

She had had some rudimentary swimming lessons from Joel. She could tread water. She could doggy paddle. But that was about it. She wasn't as quick a learner and she was so certain there would be time. She often tried to coerce Joel into letting her skip it in order to hang out with Elizabeth. Joel often let her go do it with a chuckle, saying, "Kiddo, you know you're gonna have to learn one of these days."

"I know," Ellie would usually whine, "But I promised Elizabeth I'd be there by three! And it's two-fifty!" or something along those lines. Joel would often let her off early, but make her promise to stay the whole time next time. Ellie would generally uphold that promise. If there was one thing she wanted to do, it was keep Joel's trust in her. But now Ellie wished she might have broken one of those promises. Just so Joel wouldn't be as lenient as he was.

As Ellie thought these things, she made her way down a winding road that slithered through the tall, thick pines, the concrete cracked and jutting up in several places, occasionally sunken beneath the husk of a long rusted car. The trees had dropped their pine cones all over the road, creating a hazardous space for her crutches. She was very careful with the placement of her crutches, hoping that they would not slip and send her flailing to the ground. Wouldn't it just be fucking hilarious if I fell and broke my walking leg?

She snorted.

"Yeah, that'd be just super," she grumbled to herself.

Clack.

It began to rain. A light sprinkle. It felt good on her face. It cooled her down. She made her way over to a rusted van and stopped. She leaned her crutches against it and sat down with her back against the cold metal. I just need to rest for a couple of minutes, she thought, I'm so hot, even though it's fall. She pressed a hand to her forehead. It was burning. Fever. That wasn't good. Wasn't good at all. In the zone, she had all these shots she had to get. Immunization shots, they were called. Vaccines. Funny. You could get shots for just about everything. Ellie used to be immune to everything. Now she was only immune to one thing. She rolled up her sleeve and looked at her bite. It was still healed, still pale, still ugly, and still jagged. She traced over the scars where spores had tried to push through her flesh and died, leaving those peculiar lumps of skin in their wake. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her water bottle. She took a long swig. The water wet her parched throat. She sighed as she set it down, letting the rain slowly fill it. When it was done, she capped it and stowed it in her backpack. She sat back and watched as the sky darkened above her, watched as the drops fell. It was beautiful, in a way. So much ruin below, yet the sky was untouched.

It was at that moment when she heard rustling in the underbrush on the other side of the van. She instinctively pulled her pistol, clutching it with both hands. More rustling, this time a bit closer. Her hands tightened around the grip as her heart began to pound. It could be anything out there, she thought, her fear rising. Then, she heard it. Clicking.

Oh, fuck, not now, she thought, Not now, not now, not now!

The clicking sounded off, like it was muffled. That was perhaps why she didn't hear it the first time it rustled the underbrush of the forest. She peeked out from around the van. She caught a glimpse of it staggering out of the woods and onto the desolate road. Whoever it was had been wearing a gas-mask when they turned. The fungus had pushed through the eyes of the mask, the straps around the head simply surrounded by and embedded into the sickly yellow growth. Its clicks were muffled by the long since broken respirator, which made them sound even more eerie.

Ellie ducked back behind the van. She considered her options. Even if it couldn't bite her neck, it could still grapple her and hold her down, shrieking until other infected showed up to finish the job. Considering its hands were caked with dried blood, it probably didn't need its mouth to kill her. She looked down at her pistol. It would take a few shots to put it down and those shots would be loud. She needed to be quiet. She put the pistol away quietly and pulled her switchblade as she heard its clicks getting closer and closer, hearing its old boots scraping against the pavement as it shuffled along.

How are you going to sneak up and knife it without your crutches, genius?

Eliminating the clicker was out of the question. She would have to draw it away and hope it would continue down the road. She looked around her. There was nothing within reach to throw. Dammit, Ellie, think! It came closer and closer, It was then that she saw her crutches.

That's it!

She grabbed one of the crutches and shifted so that she knelt pressed against the back of the van, facing the side the clicker where the clicker shuffled along. It stepped up to the bumper, turning its head back and forth, clicking. It took a step. Ellie stuck her crutch behind the extended leg and in front of the supporting leg. When the clicker made to take another step, its shin ran into Ellie's crutch. It fell forward, screeching and thrashing, smacking its masked face into the concrete, the plastic cracking. Ellie scrambled on hands and knees onto the clicker, switchblade in hand. She snapped the blade out and jammed it into the back of its neck. It writhed on the ground, flailing its arms, but then it lay still.

Ellie slowly withdrew her knife, wiping it clean on the clicker's decrepit clothing. She folded the blade back into the handle and slipped the knife back into her back pocket. She breathed a sigh of relief as she rested on her hands and knees beside the dead clicker. Glad that's over with. She shifted her right leg and placed her foot on the ground. She made to stand.

The throbbing in her left ankle reminded her that she would never stand without aid.

"Goddammit."

She extricated the crutch that was entangled in the clicker's legs and used it to help her stand. She hopped over to the van and grabbed her other crutch.

I got really lucky. I hope I don't fuck it up next time.

With one last look at the clicker's body, she continued her way down the street.

Clack.