I often think back to that day that I moved out of your home and into the two-bedroom assignment with Suzanne. I think about how hard it was waking from frightening dreams in the middle of the night and not finding you sitting at the dinner table eat cereal; looking just as sleep deprived as myself. We had an unspoken truce about those nights. As you poured my milk and sat across from you with a comic book before we silently went back to back an hour or so later. I thought about those nights most often when I would instead wake again the next morning to passive aggressive notes from my roommate insisting that I was too loud with my dishes in the nights. And demanding that I remain in my room till an appropriate time. She also did not appreciate the screaming that came with my dreams.

There were so many times after that day that you tried to make plans for me to come to dinner or work a shift with you. I said no wanting to stand my ground on my independence and my separation from you. It wasn't easy but as the months went by you stopped trying and I found the weight of anger and bitterness was slowly being lifted from my shoulders. It was instead replaced with guilt. A burden I was confused by.

Maria was right. She was always right.

The day was long gone when I finally reached the river. There I found hooves imprinted in the sand leading away from the ranch that Tommy had been speaking about. I saw where the scuffle took place and set off down the track following the river for nearly an hour when they disappeared abruptly. "Fuck," they veered into the grass beside me. Three horses and two sets of shoes. One set was small, their steps close together. I pictured a child running along side the horses and the men who's feet walked in the large footsteps beside.

I had never been one for tracking. That had always been your forte on scavenges. Despite what you had taught me about reading the prints in the ground I cold never see what you saw. I couldn't tell an entire story based off of one set of prints in the snow. And so, I decided it was best to set up camp before I completely lost the trail in the darkness. Buster snorted in appreciation as I slipped his saddle off and onto the ground. I tied him around my waist knowing that anywhere else would allow for someone to easily slip away with him while I slept.

I used the hand made leather saddle as a seat and built a small fire in front of me. Warm enough that I could throw a can of beans onto it but small enough that it didn't attract any unwanted attention. I closed my eyes as I waited for my beans to warm.

Somewhere in the distance I heard the cry of a clicker. Feral and desperate. I let myself get lost in the noise it created, shuffling around, blind to everything around it. Alive for no other reason than to destroy. No, alive for no other reason to survive. Just like me.

"Just like us," I said to Buster, patting his snout. He snorted again and shuffled out of my reach so he could eat in peace.

The clicker grew closer.

I pulled the beans from the flames with metal tongs and set it down to cool beside my feet. An animal chirped in the trees and the clicker responded with a guttural call, it's shuffling became more urgent and I knew it was close now.

I pulled a knife from my belt and sat, waiting for the diseased creature to "see" buster in the dark with it's cries.

Closer, closer, click, click, click.

It finally appeared from behind a tree. It was woman with long, curling black hair who was once beautiful. She wore a flowy pink summer dress that brushed her knees softly. It was filthy but I could tell that she must have traded more than a days worth of ration cards for the outfit. Or maybe a loved one bought it for her. It must have flattered her once before her body began to deteriorate. She couldn't have been more than twenty years old. It could have been a gift from a boyfriend or her father. Delicate bare feet with red painted toe nails. Almost so clean that it seemed impossible that she had been wandering around the forest. She must have come from the river, followed something into the trees. She chirped loudly and buster looked up, almost unperplexed by the monster. But his movement was enough for her to sense him.

I squinted noticing the most unusual thing about her only then.

Click.

All at once she hurled herself in our direction, her arms waving and her cry growing louder. I leaped to my feet, knife at hand. But she was suddenly on the ground, on her back, her dainty hands grasping at her throat as her cry was cut off and replaced with a horrible, sputtering choking. I stepped lightly towards her, unsure and confused.

The rope that was tied around her neck was now taught and she was being dragged back towards the trees, flailing like a fish on dry land. I moved quickly, swiftly shoving my knife into her temple. She stopped fighting but her body continued to be dragged off by the rope.

Buster did not appreciate being ridden bareback but I had no time to turn around for the saddle. His reigns were still tied around my waist when I jumped onto his back.

We followed the girl through the bushes, she left clumps of beautiful ebony hair in brambles and her blood stained the grass and the leaves red. It was like rubies in the light of the moon. Glittering beneath us as we trotted along a yard behind.

She hit a tree, hard. One yank. Two yanks. Three harsh yanks. And that's where she came to a stop. I watched the rope go limp and slowly backed off into the thick leaves. Jumping off Buster and hiding in the bushes. I could see her still, broken and frail in the grass.

"Fucking hell!" Someone yelled out in frustration, rounding the tree to find her lifeless body. "Jayson! Someone stabbed her!"

The girl who crouched beside the clicker was rough and dirty with spiky platinum hair and pale, pale skin. She wore cargo with holes in the knees and a black tank top that didn't quite cover her stomach. A pristine crossbow, obviously her prized possession, was strapped tightly across her back.

A man, Jayson, appeared as well, pulling in the rope and wrapping it into a loop, he too cursed and examined her. "How the fuck did that happen?"

"I told you the rope was too long."

"We need her far away."

"Not far enough that she would wander off. She must have made it all the way to the river."

"Well it was a stupid idea anyhow."

The girl stood up quickly and stared daggers into the man, "Fucking call me stupid again."

He rolled his eyes and proceeded to cut the rope from the beautiful clickers slender neck. "I didn't call you stupid. I called your idea stupid. We were much more likely to attract these fuckers to us than away from us with his plan. They could follow the rope either way."

"They won't follow the rope," she seethed, "they're fucking dead. They'll follow the noise, which was her."

"I don't know Ace, they usually don't give two shits about each other."

"Oh shut the fuck-"

Buster nickered behind me and I had to cover my mouth to stop the gasp from escaping. I quickly stepped out of the reigns and threw myself deeper into the thicket.

The two looked at each other before the girl pulled her weapon and I knew that she was born to hold that crossbow. She bore it as if it was an extension of her arm. I had to force my mouth to close so I didn't drool.

"It's a horse," the man said, lowering his weapon.

She rolled her eyes and glared at him, "Obviously. Honestly Jayson how the fuck are you still alive. That horse belongs to someone. Probably whoever killed fancy over there. They can't be far. They wouldn't just ditch their ride."

"You think it's part of the group the guys ambushed earlier?"

My eyes stayed of Ace's face. She considered what he said for a moment before shaking her head, "I wouldn't think so. They're going in the completely wrong direction if it were." Her face turned in my direction and her gaze lingered. I shrunk into myself, made myself invisible. As strong as you made me, I would lose a fight against this girl.

I heard your low, rough laughter in my head and tried to keep my cool. The wrong direction. Jayson went to grab Buster's reigns, but the horse was already spooked and veered onto his hind legs, crying out loudly in protest.

"Shhh," Jayson said, backing off as the 1500 pound animal landed back on his front legs, nostrils flaring in fear. He stopped his feet and whined, warning the guy away. It appeared he had had enough of people shit for the day.

Ace looked around. She heard what I heard. What Jayson was deaf to. Faint clicks and chitters in the distance. A guttural moan from another direction and the eager laughter of a man freshly turned.

"Jay we've gotta move," she whispered backing away. "Leave the fucking horse."

"But we could use him," he protesting going for the reigns once more.

The laughter of a runner was clear now. His pounding footsteps. Clickers too grew aware of the disturbance in the night. "Yeah so could the chick hiding in the bush. Jayson let's go," she nudged him with her crossbow as he turned to her astounded, his eyes searching in the darkness for my hiding spot.

"What? Where?"

I wasted no time, I jumped from my bush, not bothering with a weapon and nearly leapt onto Buster. The man stood dumbfounded as his friend ran in the opposite direction.

I looked down at him and held a hand out, "Come on!" He raised a gun at me in shaky hands. He was no older than sixteen years old. Fear was evident in his face. "Dude grab my fucking hand."

He cocked his weapon, the runner was a few feet away. I stared into his scared eyes. Into the face of his loaded gun, his shaking finger struggling to sit lightly on the trigger. Then I was running after her, past her, away from them both.

A gun shot, then Jayson's screams, then silence.

My fire was out when I finally found my way back, and my beans were cold. I re-saddled Buster, guilt washing over me in waves. I kicked the can in anger. It rebounded off a tree and flew into a patch of bloody grass from the clicker.

I wasn't even going in the right direction.

I slumped to the ground beside my pathetic fire. Throwing my face in my hands. I didn't know what to do. It had been so long since I had been so alone. Years in fact. Since that cold winter so long ago. Still then, I had you beside me, sick and dying but always beside me.

I choked back a sob, "Joel, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Get up," her voice was rougher than it was minutes before. Winded.

I looked at the exotic girl. So fierce and strong. She belonged in the wilderness. I used to be like her. Years ago before we settled. I used to be strong and brave.

I didn't stand and she drew an arrow back in her crossbow. I laughed, unsure of what else to do. "He wouldn't get on. He just pointed his gun at me."

"I told his sister I'd bring him home safe," she said in a monotone voice.

"Then you shouldn't have just ran off without him like you did."

She shot the bow and the arrow landed inches from my left foot.

"The next one's going in your throat. Stand up."

"Why? You want my horse, go for it. You want my food? Bags over there."

She scowled and walked towards me with heavy steps, I found myself noticing the army boots she wore; and it was as her foot came crashing into my face that I noticed they were steal toed.

God dammit Ellie. And there you were, in my head, always in my head.