(Update: 3/6/2019 - This chapter has been revamped)
(Optional: Read in dark font with any instrumental soundtrack you see fit.)
(Content warning: This season will have themes of abuse in multiple chapters.)
It seemed like Dora's desires aligned with Arne's yearning when it came to him being reunited with his son. It would've been something great to look forward to, but in all actuality, Dora's priority was getting her family as far away from the damned tri-state by whatever means necessary. And, frankly, it was the only thing on her mind since her neighborhood became overrun. From what could be heard across various broadcasts on the radio, New York City was already under the siege of hundreds—maybe thousands—of reanimated in just a matter of days. The state was now considered a red zone, and anyone lucky enough to make it out of NYC alive deserved a trophy of recognized notoriety.
The drive through the states was a long one. What started off as a labyrinth through augmented traffic eventually smoothed out into an easy drive on the rarely untouched parts of the freeway. Arne drove all the way until sunup, whereas Ada happily took over for Carlos since his last days in New York consisted of sleepless nights in a cold, damp cage. She was unlicensed but was a fairly good driver for someone with not much experience. Her only flaw was slamming the brakes too hard and causing the minivan to jerk abruptly. While cruising behind Arne's lead, she could see the United States border swipe right past them on the opposite side of the freeway, but once Arne came to a steady stop at the Canadian border on their side of the road, Ada had no choice but to do the same. Pressing her foot on the break, the tires immediately screeched, frightening everyone in the group into thinking something might've happened. Slightly reclined in the passenger's seat, Carlos jumped up from his snooze.
"Wake up," Ada delivered a light tap to his thigh. He yawned, finding it amusing that she hadn't figured her reckless driving was the initial reason behind his rude awakening. Without taking her eyes off the vehicle in front, she unfastened her seat belt, "They stopped," she informed, ignoring his digs about her driving.
The sleepyhead peered through one opened eye and looked towards the skies, surprised that the sun had already risen. He glanced at the digital clock. Seven-thirty? Already? Time always felt like it flew when you were a college student trying to catch up on rest, but he was silly to think it'd be any different in the midst of whatever trial of hell they were currently going through. Parked at a good distance from Arne's truck, Ada exited the minivan while Carlos remained, and made sure to take the car keys with her. Just as she was approaching them, Arne and Dora exited the car. The soldier announced that there seemed to be a problem that might prove itself to be a laborious obstacle. All three faced the direction in which the problem was in—from what it appeared, every lane at the Canadian border was obstructed by a build-up of cars. Underestimating the complications of the situation at hand, Dora became slightly side-tracked by what was at the forefront of her list of priorities. She walked around to the driver's side and rested her palms on Ada's bare shoulders,
"Why don't you put something warm on, Adaline?"
"With what mom?" Ada asked, hiding agitation due to the overbearing parenting. Deep down, Ada had a sense of why they were way out here and it wasn't because any of them cared about finding Arne's little boy. She was glad to be alive but getting involved with Arne's personal business was probably something her mother shouldn't have suggested or brought the rest of them into.
"Isn't Carlos wearing a sweatshirt he could hand you?"
Dora's idea that people were just willing to give things off of their backs, to her children, was what made it abundantly clear to Ada. She scoffed and brought her attention back to Arne, who somewhat had a look of disbelief also. Meanwhile, he was in a hurry, Dora obviously showed other concerns. Ada walked past the tower of a stranger and rested her palm on the warmed hood of the Humvee. As soft breezes blew through her hair, she looked around and noticed that one of the lanes on the far right had the least line of cars—two actually. Taking initiative, Ada cautiously wandered ahead. Dora immediately became concerned as her daughter walked off to examine the cars without any forewarning. Although she was aware that her children were easily frazzled by her, she called her daughter's name a couple of times. She wanted nothing more than to know what Ada's plan was in case there was any way she could help. Purposely ignoring her, Ada carefully made her way through other stalled vehicles and approached the cars that she had her sights set on. The closer she got, the clearer a faint beeping sound became. She tucked her hair behind her ears, slightly peering in through the rear windows of the last, parked car in the said lane. Gazing through, she noticed nothing but an empty booster seat and some used bottles of water. Deciding to move on the next vehicle parked in front, she realized that the driver's door was left slightly open, officially making it the source of the beeping. Having yet to walk beside it, a stench was still capable of abusing Ada's sense of smell. Hunching over, and reassessing the same stance as she did the previous car, Ada gazed in from behind. From what she could observe, she saw a figure resembling a head full of long, dark hair in the passenger's side. She stood straight and took a deep breath, finally looking back over at her mother and Arne who was watching her with closeness. The angle in which they stood only made Ada somewhat visible from the bust up behind other cars. Moments at a time would Ada vaguely vanish whenever she bent over but Dora made sure to keep her eyes pinned on her at all costs.
Although she was sure it would've happened by now, Ada still braced herself for what could possibly ensue. As she crept towards the driver's side, she continuously looked on through the back windows, noticing small signs such as the seat belt dangling out of the doorway on the driver's side. Stumbling on something, she looked down and noticed an abandoned, black shoe. Using the side of her foot, she scooted it underneath the car just so it wouldn't freak her any more than it already did. Being a crime scene investigator would've been a handy trait to have right about now because all she had were questions of what it meant.
As she inched closer and decided to open the door wider, she was still surprised by the sight of the dark-haired figure, even more so by the fact that there was a screwdriver welded in its left eye. She was buckled in and it was obvious that she had been a reanimated before her second life ended. She was eerily frozen in a position where her pale head was tilted upward at the sunroof of the battered car. Around her lips had marks of blood, indicating that she gave a bite before it was greeted by its demise. The young New Yorker's eyes wandered around the car, making her give a double-take at the keys in the ignition. Giving a couple of steady breaths, she slowly reached in for it while keeping her eye on the dead woman at all costs.
"What are you doing, Ada?" She heard Dora ask, raising her voice to a non-alarming volume.
Unable to avoid breathing heavily, Ada safely removed the jingling key from the ignition. Barely holding it with just two fingers, it was easier than she thought. While the upper-half of her body was still inside of the car, she turned her head back to reply,
"There's keys in here!"
No more than a second after what sounded like gurgled snarls, the dark-haired reanimated reached forward and grabbed Ada's wrist. Immediately, Ada began shrieking and shaking wildly as the reanimated tightly held on to her. Being in the position that she was in, it became a lot harder for Ada to fight free. Arne immediately took off with Dora following after. The soldier ran a lot quicker than the mid-aged mom, but the determination had no comparison. Just as he decided to take a short-cut and squeeze through two stable vehicles, a reanimated with a missing shoe popped out from behind a truck and greeted Arne with a close-up of gnashing teeth. Taken by surprise, Arne quickly took a misstep and fell to the pavement as the reanimated stumbled with him and dove right on top of him. Arne immediately placed his arm up and caught the reanimated at a position where he could keep it at a safe distance from his face. Being only recently infected, the reanimated still possessed much strength and heftiness. He yelled for help, struggling as the reanimated snapped at his features. From where he was pinned, he saw Dora arm herself with a blade and swoop in from behind. She raised the reanimated's head by lifting the back of its collar like it was a noose around a neck and prepared to strike. But just like last time, her arm teetered and trembled. From the observation of others, it might look easy, but it took a lot of nerve to kill a walking corpse. Even if they were no longer human, there was still something unsettling about it. The minute she put her sister down, Dora could admit that destroying the soulless had capabilities of deforming the souls of their killers.
"Dora!" Arne yelled as if his words had the ability to verbally slap her.
Finally, she granted a stab at the base of its neck. The reanimated's tense body instantly felt limp and it was dropped in seconds. Arne watched in amazement as Dora galloped to save her daughter. He was prompted to push the heavy, empty vessel off of him and follow.
Still partially trapped in the car, Ada continuously yelled, fearful of the undead. The angle in which Ada was in almost made the corpse appear as if it possessed a witch-like grin, accompanied with hollow, pastel eyes. She wanted to yank her arm away but something in her mind made her theorize that a potential scratch or scrape resulted in something just as bad as a bite. Although the compromised teen was still scared out of her mind, her panics settled and became reserved, seeing that making a ruckus served no helping hand. Her eyes scanned the obsessive creature and they met with the situated screwdriver once again. She reached up to grab it but her error in moving too gently nearly cost Ada her fingers. She instantly started shrieking again and jumped back, only to be reminded that she was being leashed at the wrist. Preparing herself by taking rapid breaths, she figured this could go a multitude of ways. She could ultimately succumb to the undying drive of the dead and die or wait to be rescued and still end up with the same result. Ada lifted her hand and screamed while thrusting her palm forward at the bum of the embedded tool. As the screwdriver impaled further into reanimated's eye, Ada could feel it puncture the massive organ in its head and tap the surface inside its skull. As demented as it sounded, more signs of blood most likely meant that the job was done. She yelped as the velvet-like substance secreted out of the left eye socket and drip on its clothing. The palm around Ada's wrist loosened but remained closed. She carefully loosened each digit at a time and backed out of the car as Dora closed in behind her. Catching up to her within seconds was Arne,
"You okay?" Arne asked from behind, looking just as breathless as the Chadwell women
Ada nodded, unable to look them in the eye. They were gracious enough to give her some time to catch her breath and give her some moments of silence. After Ada insisted that she was fine, Dora noticed her kneading her wrist with her fingers. Grabbing her wrist unannounced, Dora checked for any bite marks. Recently inflicted from the grapple, Dora held back tears, seeing slight ashiness on the surface of her daughter's walnut-colored skin. To her surprise, Ada was still in one piece. She reassured that she was unharmed for the last time, not wanting her embarrassing situation to hold them up any longer. Dora wasn't prepared to let go just as yet but had no choice due to her daughter's passiveness. Ultimately, Ada went right back into devising a plan without skipping a beat. Even Arne was left a little stunned, because despite it not happening to him, he still needed some time to process what happened. Since they now obtained the keys to the vehicle, someone had to remove it by driving it through the toll. As for the car behind it—it wasn't the best idea Ada could come up with, but Ada theorized that since Arne's truck was most durable they could just move it from behind. After seeing her drive, it was clear as day that Ada didn't know too much about cars. It wasn't to undermine but she was informed that the only way the car could be moved would be to put it in neutral and they couldn't do that without a key.
"It's not that big of a problem, I can just hotwire it," Arne suggested as if it were as simple as reciting the alphabet.
He received suspicious looks from both women before Ada finally spoke up,
"You know how to hotwire a car?" She asked, somewhat impressed although it wasn't something to admire, "They teach that in the military?"
"Let's just say I wasn't the kinda kid like you or your brother when I was teen," he glanced away self-consciously, "Sometimes, the people who join the military are people with not-so-great pasts," he somewhat confessed. Dora and Ada realized they may have stumbled onto thin ice. Like mother, like daughter, they essentially gave the same reaction and swept it under the rug. Although they wouldn't necessarily be fond of it, it's something that could definitely come in handy. Other than the fact that now was probably the worst time of all, both understood that it wasn't something Arne was prepared to open up about. Suddenly, Ada passed him the keys without warning and walked past him and intertwined her thin arm with her mother's, "Wait," Arne caught it with unpreparedness, "No one's gonna help me move the lady in the seat?" Arne asked, indirectly requesting a helping hand.
Dora wasn't like her daughter in this case and had yet to overcome the recent ordeal,
"We'll leave that to the man of the group," Dora said.
"Okay," Arne yielded. It was meant to come off playful but there was a defensiveness in Dora's hold to her daughter that made Arne realize it was more of a demand than anything else. To her satisfaction, he made a final comment, "I'm gonna let that one slide. Only because you saved me…" Arne tensely smirked back.
As selfish as it might've been, Dora didn't want to get her hands on another reanimated and she'd be damned if she were going to let her daughter go near that hellish thing again. As they both turned away and Dora pulled Ada closely, obviously proud of her daughter's quick wit and wellbeing. Bouncing shoulders as they walked, she ran her hand along the surface of her daughter's hair before giving her a smooch on the cheek and expressing that she was more than happy that her daughter was okay. They walked towards Arne's truck, and stopped at the passengers side. As they passed by the backseat windows, they momentarily looked at Emberly, sleeping on Jolyn's shoulder who just so happened to be wide awake. He still had on his hospital gown with the addition of his jeans. He looked on out of the window on the opposite side, looking the most miserable and astray his family had ever seen him. His eyes were bloodshot with bags that nearly touched the corners of his lips. Ada pulled her mother further away from the truck to talk with her out of ear shot even though she was sure that nothing would make Jolyn nudge. As she squeezed out of her mother's hold, she crossed her arms to maintain a little warmth,
"He's awake. Do we tell him what just happened...?" Ada asked worriedly.
"No," Dora didn't hesitate. She was looking out for her son as well as her daughter and, in this case, she figured it was something that would only wound up disadvantaging all three of them, "It's better he doesn't know. At least not right now."
"Did he say anything in the car?"
"No..." Dora sounded defeated.
Ada exhaled, almost as if she were next to Jolyn in having a nervous breakdown,
"Mom, he's been like this for almost a week now."
"Look," Dora calmly rested her hand on Ada's shoulder, "This is a lot for all of us to take in right now, okay? I think all he needs is some space and for us to be there for him."
Arne tediously interrupted from behind, wanting to avoid the notion that he was overhearing their conversation. Once he gathered their attention, he enlightened that he already moved the first car in front and all that was left to acquire were some tools to hotwire the second car so they could be on their merry way to Montreal. Luckily, Carlos' car was passed down from his father, who was formerly a maintenance man in the complex they lived in.
Although Ada could forgive him for successfully snoozing through everything, Carlos was startled awake by his girlfriend once again. He jumped up to three hard knocks on his window and as he briefly looked over, barely taking the time to render out who the individual was, he unlocked the door. She opened the door from the outside, having already chosen to keep her predicament a secret. She wanted to avoid any type of widespread worry and from the looks of it, it seemed to be working in her favor. Seeing how avoiding stress only made things go smoothly, was a learning experience for her.
"Hey," Ada leaned in so close over Carlos, she could feel his breaths titillate her face, "Is it cool if we use your dad's toolbox to hotwire a car?"
Carlos mumbled some inarticulate sounds and performed some meaningless hand motions. Hesitantly, she shut the door, hoping that it was some kind of permission. She circled the minivan and retrieved the relatively weighty toolbox from the trunk and held it with both hands. She delivered it to Arne, who later clarified that all he needed was a hammer and screwdriver.
Unable to get into the locked car, Arne had to force his way in by breaking the window with his elbow. After giving it two mighty blows, the glass shattered, provoking everyone to naturally look around with hopes that it didn't alarm anything. Figuring that it would come in handy during a time like this, Ada sat in the passenger's seat and examined Arne's hotwiring skills. Steps included injecting a screwdriver into the ignition to start the system, taking the steering wheel apart, and cutting & cross-connecting wires to start up the motor. Ada couldn't do as much as slow to a stop, much less hotwire a car, so she was taking in information she would undoubtedly forget the next morning. Once the motor finally commenced, Arne reversed the car into a no-driving lane on the freeway, ultimately clearing the path that led through the toll booth. Now, all that was left for Ada to do was to return Mr. Sanchez's toolbox and hit the road once again. Casually walking back to the minivan, she returned the toolbox in its proper place and slammed the trunk shut. Not even taking two steps to the driver's side of the van, a random figure sprang out from behind and pointed a gun to Ada's head. She squealed,
"Shut up," the strange voice whispered sharply, "Shut up or your head will be splattered all over the back of this car."
Carlos was disturbed by the slamming of yet another door and, at this point, he was just about ready to take the keys and drive off. Just when he looked up into the rearview mirror he made out the top Ada's perverse hair. As he took the time for his eyes to make sense of what he was seeing, she seemed to be accompanied by another head he suspected could've been male. However, the sudden realization that it wasn't a red-head nor a head full of thick curls gave Carlos the feeling that something wasn't right. He adjusted the rearview mirror only to see a man belligerently handling. That's when he instantly unbuckled himself and climbed out of the car. The armed stranger and Ada were now on the passenger's side, in the open for everyone to see. Now looking into the face of his girlfriend's captor, Carlos realized that the stranger was armed and the gun directly pointed at him, over Ada's shoulder. He raised both hands into the air as he carefully shut the car door.
Dora, on the other hand, was on the verge of becoming comfortable once she climbed back into the military truck. Glancing over to the side mirror to give Arne the green light that Ada and Carlos were prepared to follow, she could feel every organism in her body pause. The longer she stared, made out the back of Carlos' figure—standing with his hands raised. Feeling her heart drop into an endless void in the pit of her stomach, she shuddered,
"Shit!" she swore, raising Arne's eyebrows.
Just as he was seconds away from twisting the key in the ignition, Arne watched Dora frantically unbuckle her seat belt and exit the Humvee. To him, her reaction seemed random and it had him at a loss for words. As his eyes followed her through the interior windows on the passengers' side and towards the back, that's when the dilemma made itself clear. He grabbed his M4 carbine resting beside his left leg and also exited the vehicle. Thinking he could possibly sneak past the massive gap between their vehicles and sneak around from behind, it failed the minute Arne took a step. Looking in Arne's direction, the stranger grabbed a handful of Ada's hair. He rotated his balled up fists and jerked it back as if he were trying to yank them from her scalp. She winced, having a faint gasp escape her quivering lips,
"Uh-uh-uh! I see you!" the gunman said. He gripped her hair tighter, "Put your gun down and place it on the ground where I can see it!" He hissed.
Arne walked out into the open with his firearm pointed, but all it took was a plea from Dora's eyes for him to obey. He presented it with opened palms and slowly rested the assault rifle onto the pavement.
With her daughter in harm's way for the second time today, Dora froze in place as if her feet fused with the pavement. She was horrified that a single step would be all it took for this strange man to pull the trigger. She reached out with a shaking palm, disappointed that she wasn't any closer.
"Please, let her go," Dora begged, her voice lacking the enthusiasm it normally possessed.
"What do you want?" Carlos asked, standing within the closest range of the gunman.
"I just want the car," As the gunman's legible eyes shifted over to him, what Carlos thought would be menacing, was actually something extremely inconsolable. In split second intervals, his trembling confidence shifted his vision between all three of his victims facing him, "No one has to get hurt. Just give me the keys, I'll drive away, and we can pretend this never happened."
"Give him the keys, Ada," Carlos gave in without hesitation.
Dora observed from behind, pleased that Carlos would've done what she wanted in a heartbeat. However, Ada gave way to the frown that was soon to reappear on her face,
"Let go of my hair," Ada said through gritted teeth.
"I don't really think you're really in a position to give orders!" The gunman said into her ear.
His apparent morning breath sent chills tingling down her spine. Ada slowly unclenched her fists, having the keys clatter to the ground beside her. He could either have one of the other people pick up the keys, but he thought it would be too much of a risk. He didn't know what these people were capable of and, so far, he wanted to remain having the upper hand. The gunman had no choice but to free his hand to quickly grab the keys. After doing so, he pressed the gun against her back once again,
"Do you have anything on you?" he began asking while preemptively frisking Ada inappropriately.
He carelessly passed his hands over parts of her body that not even Carlos was allowed to touch without consent. Dora fell sick to her stomach, wanting nothing more than to have her daughter curled up into her arms. As the stranger began to distance himself from behind, thinking of ways to get to the front seat of the Volkswagen, it was apparent on Ada's face that she had reached a breaking point. Carlos shook his head, recognizing a look that consisted of her folding her lips inward,
"Don't..." he muttered.
"What'd you say?!" The gunman shouted at Carlos. He walked closer to Ada, pressing the gun against her back once again, "Shut the hell up!" he shouted, using extra mouthiness to intimidate.
Ada looked over Carlos' shoulder, seeing her mother a couple of feet behind him. Examining her mother's body language, Dora repeatedly patted her right thigh with her right palm. As hectically as she did it, Ada felt that it was a cryptic message with the intention to save her life. Being that her arms were already spread out from her initial surrender, Ada swiftly rotated her body to the left and used the back of her left forearm to forcefully shove the gunman's wielding arm to the side.
He was thrown off and she was now facing his direction. She immediately rushed forward, hurling her right elbow in his face. She locked his arm along her chest, and while having seized his arm, she ruthlessly kneed him in the groin, causing him to further bend over, thus allowing her to snatch the gun by the barrel from his weak hands. Just for perks, she kneed him once again in the chest in hopes of injuring him further. As he inched away in pain, Ada powerfully swung her right arm back, cracking him across the face with the grip of the obtained handgun. He faltered to the side and crashed to the ground, having a bright red cut on his cheek. Finally seeing him face to face for the first time, he looked like the creepy "nice guy" archetype. He had graying hairs, thick round glasses, and a receded hairline. Of course, he wore a brown trench coat to match.
Carlos prepared to follow up with a bunch of blows next but he was restrained by Ada, who was struggling to hold his powerful rages back. Quickly, Dora and Arne jumped in to assist. Ada objected, telling Carlos to leave the pathetic man for the dead.
If he hadn't counted his blessings before, now was the time. The man was luckily given the chance to recover and escape. Immediately, he got up and began dashing towards the opposite direction as quickly as he could. As he ran, reanimated began to spring out from behind the stalled vehicles on the freeway—some seconds away from grabbing hold of him. Being released into the modern wild seemed like the appropriate punishment rather than mustering up the immorality to do what others probably would've.
"I'll kill you!" Carlos roared after him. Every vein and muscle tensed in his neck, shaking from anger as he yelled, "YOU HEAR ME?!"
Ada rested her palm on his chest, attempting to calm him down since he was prepared to chase him down all the way back to Vermont. Dora ran in from the behind, loudly thanking God and hugging her daughter. Although things could have taken a turn for the worst, she was relieved that she had enough prowess as a fighter to stop it from ever getting to that point. Never having used a gun before, Ada held the now acquired firearm in her palm as if it were a delicate leaf. Looking back at the three pairs of eyes, she searched them all for an answer,
"Why don't you take it?" Ada asked her mother.
"I'm not ready for that yet," Dora admitted, shaking her head.
Finally, Dora looked over at Arne, who was the obvious choice when it came to operating with firearms. The unfavorable reaction to the gun was telling, yet understandable. So Arne took the gun and studied it. As much as he could grasp that city-folk weren't more than tech-savvy, he couldn't promise them that they'd never have to touch a gun like this one again. Arne turned away and walked back to the truck to get their journey started again, but Ada could tell by her mother's nervous hands that she didn't want to let go of her again. Ada calmly placed her hand on her mother's and promised her that things would be okay. With her head hanging, Dora let go of her daughter's arm, wanting nothing more than to stay by her side, but she didn't want to fail to realize her daughter's independence.
Once Dora turned to see Ada and Carlos safely back in their van, she looked into the backseat, seeing Emberly wide awake with her head partially buried into the neck of her thermal top, having tears stream down her face. Dora knew she saw everything and she felt ashamed of that. She empathized with her, knowing that anyone would become fearful for a family member in that situation. But overall, Dora's main worry was that Emberly was also no longer safe. Being so young and lacking the knowledge and physical strength others did, what were her chances of surviving this mess? As the truck began moving, she faced forward and closed her eyes, mumbling another prayer.
As if it weren't telling the minute they reached the border, the infection had crossed over into the borders of Canada. This was especially frightening to Dora because she was now concerned about the current state of her home island. The last time she spoke to any family before the line went down, things seemed fine. There weren't many signs of the infection the moment it showed up in America and she was afraid that this was a sign that things most likely changed since then.
The reception for cellular phones failed, therefore making it impossible to contact anyone in America, much less overseas any longer. Dora grew immensely anxious because of this, not ever thinking that she would want anything more but to hear the healing voices of her siblings, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, and two of her oldest offspring.
Following Arne's lead, the unofficial group finally made it into Montreal where, unlike New York City, it was sparsely populated. It was catastrophic nonetheless but there was a slight difference in the atmosphere. Montreal was a city but, overall, felt a lot less suffocating. The landscape was far more visible compared to the metropolitans in New York City. The only thing on a similar level was the infrastructure. The roads, however, weren't much competition, having plenty of potholes that nearly tore apart the bottom of a vehicle if you didn't drive slowly enough over it. The most notable landmark in Montreal was the Jacques Cartier Bridge, which carried them all into the city of Montreal. After a twenty-minute drive, Arne turned into an appealing suburb he claimed to be the home of his son's and ex-wife's. From the looks of it, there was no trace of the military and the neighborhood was seemingly absent of civilians. One could only guess that they either fled or were locked in their homes—there was a lack of vibrancy and everything appeared bleaker than it did on a normal summer's afternoon. Arne pulled up in front of a nice home that resembled many of the beautiful constructed homes in the upper-class neighborhood. Each house has a decent square meters of land, setting them far apart from one another.
In the midst of fawning over the prosperous community, Dora was surprised to see Arne leave the vehicle without warning. Once he realized that his ex-wife's home entrance had been broken into, he insensibly pushed past the door and began searching every room on the first level. The bedrooms came afterward. As he reached the second floor, he pushed on Hunter's bedroom door, unintentionally ramming his head into it after a sudden mass from behind blocked it from opening entirely. Using all of his strength, Arne forced the door to open further and somewhat squirmed his torso through, spotting a dresser on the other side. He was presented with flashy posters of superheroes and feature films, alluring electronics, and scattered action figures all over the carpet. Looking over, Arne saw a covered figure on the mattress.
"Hunter?!" Arne gasped. The determined father successfully pushed the door until he gave himself enough elbow to run in and pull off the covers, "Hunter! it's daddy!"
As the comforter to the floor, he was stunned by the face of a scruffy looking gentleman with a stained, beige overcoat and torn khakis, who looked more perplexed than he did. Arne became momentarily stunned and the first thing he decided to do was unhinge. He aggressively hauled the squatter who was settled in his son's bedroom. Arne grabbed him by the coat and violently hauled him from the mattress. He pinned him up against the wall, accidentally knocking over a fragile lamp,
"Where's my son!?"
"I-I don't know what you're talking about…" the man trembled wildly, exposing his hands.
"THE FAMILY THAT LIVED HERE, WHERE ARE THEY?!" Arne roared before lifting his fist.
"Arne!" A voice grabbed his attention.
Arne looked over at the doorway, partially making out Dora behind the door. Arne returned his tormented gaze back at the stranger and released him, allowing him to land back on his feet without preparation. He took a couple of steps back in a state of mental and physical enervation and couldn't believe he nearly lost control.
"Leave now or I'll kill you…" Arne mumbled before walking over to the dresser and further shoving it out of the way.
The squatter didn't waste a second. He squeezed through the door, more than positive that Arne would absolutely keep his promise. Surprisingly, no reanimated managed to make their way into the said home of Arne's ex-wife. After Arne's confrontation with the intruder, he was encouraged by the Chadwell family to offer the strange man a place to stay because he'd only be setting him up with his fate. Jolyn and Emberly didn't have much of a say but the rest of the party defended the stranger, claiming that they came from a place of understanding. It took loads of convincing but Arne bogusly submitted to the tiring request of his new acquaintances, hoping to avoid giving them a chance to see him through some not-so-nice lenses. But due to wanting to prioritize their safety and avoid indirect animosity towards the stranger, the nameless man was allowed to get comfortable in the house's upstairs bathroom. But just for one night—anywhere else was off-limits.
It had been nearly a day since anyone had last gotten rest. Since the electricity was also out in Canada, Arne managed to find some old candles in the attic. He lit them all over the house with the participation of Dora, who loved candles. Just as the teens and Emberly did, she sure as hell got a kick out of exploring the fancy house. Eventually, everyone soon converged in the living room and planned to rest there.
Arne found a short bar of wood and hammer in the attic and nailed the door shut to avoid any wanderers. They were safe for the time being, but no matter how tired others claimed to be, the faintest of sounds from outside was enough to startle them awake.
Arne's mentality as a both a father and soldier just wouldn't allow him to get a decent night's rest. He opened his eyes for the seventh time that night, feeling that he could serve as a useful overseer. He sat up from his claimed rocking chair and looked around the room, noticing something a little off about his surroundings. Quite unable to put his finger on it, Arne cautiously moved on thinking that hysteria must have finally gotten to him. Having removed most of his army attire, he walked around in a forest green t-shirt. He got up and took a stroll around the house to clear his mind and possibly reminisce about the times he used to visit his son. As he walked into the kitchen, Arne heard some strange sounds coming from the next room over. He was more than sure that it was the squatter and Arne would've been very unhappy about that. He stomped into the next room over—the dining room from what he could remember. The large room was barely lit by the sole candle that was placed at the edge of the dinner table, so as Arne walked in, all he could make out was a short silhouette looking through one of the windows in the room. Frightened by his intruding stomps, the figure jumped and let out a high-pitched gasp. They pressed their back against the window, feeling ambushed by Arne's shadowy figure alone.
"Mr. Rogers?" Emberly made sure.
"Oh," Arne let out a sigh of relief. He calmed himself, trying to mellow himself and Emberly. He looked around, trying to act as if the situation wasn't already creepy enough, "What are you doing up so late?"
Emberly fiddled with her fingers before answering. She hoped it was dark enough to not be seen crying. She raised her arm and dried her cheeks with her sleeves,
"I couldn't sleep," Emberly confessed.
Her stomach growled afterward, thinking that maybe hunger could change the outcome of this situation. Arne went ahead and searched the kitchen and it looked as though his ex-wife had gone shopping for a couple of items before she had fled the place. There was fresh milk and unopened cartons of juice. It explained the stuffed plastic bags on the counter. He poured Emberly a cold bowl of Cheerios and decided it would be best to accompany her for a late night snack. He gave her a pretty, pale blue colored bowl that was drastically smaller than his own. Emberly thanked him, immediately diving into it as she sat at the end of the table. As Arne watched her closely, he was taken away by a daydream, suddenly wondering if his son had something in his belly tonight. Mere thoughts of his son being hungry and possibly alone out there nearly made him keel over. However, the tall soldier managed to get himself in order and find a seat next to her.
There was so much eating involved that a single word hadn't been exchanged. The sounds of spoon-clinking, soft chews, and swallows was all that was heard. Neither one of them could be blamed though, a fascinating discussion between an eleven-year-old and a military soldier was revolutionary but ultimately far-fetched. Arne understood that Emberly was only a child and that meanwhile this entire anomaly was having an effect on both of them, it was undoubtedly more frustrating and rigorous for her. Although they might not have been able to identify with one another, Arne came to a realization that he had made a crucial decision when running away with this family. And as harsh as it sounded, he was stuck with Emberly. He thought logically and eventually came to the conclusion that he should treat Emberly no different than he would his own son. The first step was just getting to know her,
"So, how old are you, Emberly?" Arne asked, putting a spoonful of Cheerios in his mouth.
"Eleven," she answered.
By the tone of her voice, it was evident she was uncomfortable for various reasons. She could barely lift her eyes from her bowl. As saddening as it was seeing her in such a depressed state, Arne understood. He had seen war-struck children before, and this was essentially what it was. He planned to avoid questions that would make her think too much of her personal life before all of this happened,
"Why were you looking out that window?" Arne asked, trying to make conversation.
Emberly looked over, staring directly at the window to her right. As Arne's gaze followed, he noticed four reanimated aimlessly wandering around the yard of the home. Just then, one tripped over something and laid in the grass for a couple of minutes before attempting to get up, taking a few more to successfully stand, and start moving again. Considering how the adult and child stared at the corpse like an ongoing experiment, it was fair to say that it was vastly intriguing,
"Why are they like that? What happened to them?" Emberly finally replied, asking something open-ended.
"I wish I knew."
"Back in New York, one attacked me...and..." she began admitting as her voice cracked.
Remembering her aunt and the neighbor who helped her, the spoon fell from her hand and dropped into the bowl. She frowned and looked into her lap while burying her face into her hands, not wanting to be seen crying in front of someone she hadn't thought of as a friend yet.
Arne swallowed from where he sat. As much as he kept telling himself that he was being reminded of his son, it was something far deeper than that. He blinked repeatedly, trying to hold back tears of his own,
"There's nothing wrong with being afraid," he tried comforting her. Reconnecting with a pair of dark brown eyes, he felt a lot of pressure, having never shared a moment this emotional with a child—not even his own son, "They scare me too," he confessed. Emeberly looked on at him, silently surprised that a man of Arne's profession was capable of feeling that. He seemed so fearless and always remained level-headed. Seeing that she seemed to stop sniveling, Arne figured that his words were doing the job. Dedicated to finishing off with someone empowering to the both of them, he began nodding when he felt like he had the right words. He looked out the window and observed the two lingering reanimated, "But we're smarter than them. We can move faster, climb higher, and we can get stronger. They—" Arne pointed at the window, "They can't."
"Not until they bite you..." Emberly added pessimistically, but it wasn't intentional.
"Then don't let them," he thought quickly.
Arne's final words may not have had a deep enough meaning to Emberly but it was something to take with her wherever she went.
Considering that Arne had already finished a bowl that was twice her bowl's size, it revealed that Emberly was also a very slow eater. It was strange to admit but speaking with Emberly had done more alleviating for him than it might have for her. Maybe it had to do with his background, having dedicated his life to inspire and protect people, including the youth. Finally, once Emberly had finished her food, she sat at the table shaking her leg impatiently throughout the rest of their untensed conversation. As it turned out, Emberly had to use the restroom. Arne knew his boundaries and believed that it wasn't his place, so he recommended that she wake up one of the women for assistance. Although she already planned to, Emberly did exactly that and woke up Dora. Dora got herself together, wanting to use the lavatory as well—admitting she was too afraid to go alone or ask. Being easily awoken by the speaking, Ada woke up and decided to join them. Emberly led them through the kitchen where Arne was washing their bowls,
"Hey, Arne," Dora greeted, "Where's your bathroom?"
Arne quickly finished up and retrieved a key from one of the cabinets in the house. He led Dora and the girls into a short hallway that led to a closed door right along the wall in the center. Thinking that it would reveal a bathroom it revealed stairs instead. To every one of their dismay, the stairs descended into a dark basement. Standing behind Dora, Emberly peered from behind in absolute silence,
"There are two other doors down there. The heavy, black door is the boiler room and the other is the bathroom," Arne enlightened.
Arne handed Dora a flashlight and even though they were all hesitant to go down, he promised that, aside from the house being empty the moment they stepped in, the basement door remained locked at all times—so it was highly unlikely that anything undead would be in the basement. Dora knew Arne had no choice but to have his wishes at an all-time-high at the moment, but it would've been diabolical for Dora to even question the likeliness of his infected ex-wife and child being down there. Better safe than sorry, she equipped herself with Jolyn's knife and carefully walked down. Reaching only three steps, she beamed the light around the pitch darkness. Continuing, she noticed a leather couch, a foosball table, a pool table, and a small bar. It was essentially a game room. How rich were these people? Was all Dora could think whenever she stumbled into a new room.
Ada watched her mother from atop of the stairs, seeing her point the light around various places from where she stood,
"See anything?" Arne precautioned.
"It looks clear..." Dora said as she looked behind places she missed, "Sounds clear too. Alright, you guys can come down."
Emberly nervously looked up at Arne as she held the door open. She took a couple of steps forward but found it nearly impossible to go any further. She felt as if her surroundings were warping and shifting when she finally heard a voice. Aunt Dora spoke, but Emberly's drifting mind couldn't make out the words. It was like the further she walked, the became unintelligible and sounded like disgruntled groans and hisses. The more she stared, she envisioned an erect body suddenly appearing at the bottom of the staircases. It snarled with its head dislodged to the side. As dark as it was, the figure was clearly her Aunt Joy. Emberly stumbled backward and hooted once Ada grabbed her shoulders. She resistively shoved herself away, backing up until Arne and Ada was in her sights,
"Emberly…?" Ada crept forward.
"I don't wanna go."
"What's wrong?" Dora hollered, aiming the flashlight up the stairs,
Arne studied Emberly's odd behavior and looked back at Dora,
"One minute," he tossed back down to her.
Emberly began hyperventilating, receiving distressed stares from her older cousin,
"I'm not going down there. I'm not going in that stupid basement!"
It took nothing more for Ada to understand the source of her cousin's fear. Hearing Emberly, she repressed her initial reaction,
"Just come on down, there's nothing down here!" Dora tried to encourage.
"I can hold it! I'll hold it instead!"
"Child! Just get down here," Dora said, slightly irritated by her nieces whining.
Back home, Emberly could act spoiled at times thanks to Michael's babying, but this wasn't that. Dora was simply misinterpreting it since she couldn't see what was going on for herself.
"Mom," Ada growled. She turned and glared at her, "It's fine. You go ahead and use the bathroom. I'll take care of her."
Arne awkwardly stood silently in the middle of their quarrel as Ada elegantly defended her cousin, clearly knowing something that neither he or Dora didn't. While Dora continued, Ada looked up at Arne and modestly asked if there was another bathroom.
"It's upstairs. But that...bum is sleeping in there."
Ada gave a deadpan look,
"Arne, this house is bigger than half of the houses on our block back in New York. I know there's more than two bathrooms."
Arne eventually gave in and revealed that there were bathrooms in both his ex-wife's and son's bedroom. Thanks to Arne, the location of Hunter's room was easier to remember, so she led the way. As the girls departed, Arne looked back down at Dora, who hadn't moved an inch from where she stood, seemingly paranoid of her surroundings.
"Can you come down here?" Dora sighed, "I didn't mean to start a fuss, I just didn't want to be down here by myself."
Everyone was wide awake the following evening, having all gotten a decent night's rest. To start the day off, they all served themselves some graciosus bowls of cereal. Cheerios, Honey Nut Chex, or Froot Loops with quenching cold milk.
Being the desperate father that he was, the last thing on Arne's generous mind was the limitation of food. Every seat at the table was filled, just as the room was with moderate chatter. Dora looked around the table, thinking that a time like this was impossible to ever have. She looked over at Jolyn, who became an onlooker at the dinner table,
"Are you enjoying your food?" Dora asked, almost as if he were an infant.
Almost in unison the entire table paused and looked over at him. Jolyn, slightly annoyed by his mother's smothering, nodded without showing much of his face. He still hadn't uttered a word from the moment he was retrieved from the infirmary. At first, Dora was afraid that the injury might have made him permanently unstable but Arne identified it as a possible form of PTSD mutism. It was something he saw with war veterans when they witnessed too much to fathom. Jolyn functioned as he normally did. He could hear and he was completely responsive; he just didn't speak like before. Needless to say, the room became painfully mute as well. Carlos, on the other hand, didn't smile the whole time. He released Ada's hand from underneath the table, having finished only half of his bowl. He thanked Arne, for the food but exited the dining room to have some time alone. Ada watched him depart, knowing there was a type of guilt behind his exit. As unfair as it sounded, if anyone should feel guilty about Jolyn's current condition, it should be their mother. Momentarily looking over at brother, Ada smiled as their eyes met,
"How's your side feeling?"
Jolyn gave a response by scrunching up his nose and giving a slight shrug. He held up his hand parallel to the table and tilted it, implying that it was still moderately painful. Meh. So-so. His mind could say.
"Did you change your bandage?" Ada challenged him to respond differently.
However, Jolyn nodded with ease. Although she was pleased with the answer itself, it still hurt that she couldn't get a peep out of him after thinking she could. She was in competition with everyone else and if there was anyone she wanted Jolyn to speak with first, it had to be her. After all, she was his twin. In the end, her pride as a loving sibling only ended up destroyed.
Shortly afterward, everyone, except Jolyn and Emberly, left the dining room to gather in the living room. Jolyn wanted to be left alone, whereas Emberly had no choice but to finish up eating. Standing from his seat, Jolyn slowly wandered to one of the windows that allowed the evening sunlight through its thin, beige curtains. As much as the world was beginning to change, nature managed to retain itself in some form. It only begged the question that maybe those ghastly things out there were only an extension of nature all along? Squirrels still scavaged for nuts and flocks of birds flew overhead as if life was going on normally. However, as Jolyn looked closely at the old green gardening shed in the corner of the backyard, he recognized the same man who was cast out from Arne's home, entering it. It was clear he had nowhere else to turn, so staying in a cluttered shed was his only option. Jolyn cautiously looked over his shoulder, checking to see if anyone else was close by. He then looked over at Emberly and pressed his finger against his lips.
She stopped chewing, watching him as he sneaked another bowl of cereal for himself. She knew nothing about rationing but knew that hard times were among them and that food wasn't going to be easy to come by. Once again, he put his finger to his lips, which narrowed into a troublesome smile. He searched relentlessly for something, walking back and forth to different parts of the house. Finally, Jolyn went out of sight before Emberly heard the opening of a door, seeing light emerge from a separate room and bounce into hers. Quickly getting up, she followed the sounds into the other room and the last glimpse she caught was a white door being pulled shut from the other side. Quickly Emberly ran back into the dining room and approached the window by pushing the curtains aside. She watched as Jolyn nearly frolicked into the wide lawn of grass all while carefully trying to avoid spilling the overflowing bowl of cereal. From what she could observe, the stranger was apprehensive towards Jolyn, taken aback by the nonverbal encounter, but as Jolyn held out the bowl, the stranger accepted it, obviously exchanging nods and smiles of gratitude.
However, as Emberly watched, she focused on Jolyn as his head became somewhat obscured by the squatter who was happily moving about. She peered at what she thought she was imagining—Jolyn's lips were moving...or at least trying to move. She couldn't exactly tell. Emberly smiled, amazed by her cousin's actions as she rested on the window sill, but something from the far right caught her eye. Once she looked over, she could see a reanimated corpse making its way further into the yard.
"Oh no…" her smile faltered as she began pounding the glass.
Jolyn turned, having his attention successfully grabbed by the three reanimated, first, as they walked towards him and his new friend. Emberly struggled to open the jammed window even after unlocking it and the more she fought and hurt her delicate hands, the more time was being wasted. At this point, she could see another reanimated making it through the opposite side of the yard, cutting off Jolyn from safely running back inside of the house. Emberly dashed into the living room to summon the others, breaking through the stale and quiet milieu.
"What is it?" Dora closed a small bible she recently found.
"It's Jolyn! He's in the backyard! Those things are out there!"
Being the only ones present in the living room, Dora, Ada, and Carlos all jumped up from their seats. Meanwhile, Carlos and Ada followed Emberly back into the living room. Dora ran towards the front entrance to summon Arne, who was drilling new locks and bolts to the door. He looked up as Dora called him from a couple of feet away and immediately explained everything to him. Wired to be ever-ready in situations like this, Arne grabbed the M4 that might as well have been attached to him and ran out through the front entrance, taking another path from the front, to around the back.
Jolyn was clearly stricken with fear as he and the stranger were becoming cornered by the reanimated that surrounded them. One of them lifted its limp arm towards him, causing him to immediately struggle with its aggressiveness once it made contact. Its rancid breath touched Jolyn each and every time it opened its mouth. The soles of Jolyn's shoes slid on the soil as he attempted to push the reanimated back, bit by bit, meanwhile, the remaining three eventually wandered closer to the squatter. He looked around and grabbed a rusty shovel on the ground nearby the gardening shed and wildly swung it, hitting the nearest one in the face. The blow was enough to stun the reanimated but was far from fatal. He swung the shovel once again, hitting the second reanimated in the face. Seeing that it barely had an effect, he used it as a tool to keep them distanced.
However, just in the nick of time, both Ada and Carlos emerged from the back of the house. Ada outran her far more athletic boyfriend in bedroom slippers. Tightly holding a Phillips screwdriver, that she nabbed from Arne's tools, in a reverse-grip, she worked towards the reanimated that now had her brother pinned up against the side of the garden shed. As she pulled the reanimated away by the back of the neck, it immediately turned around, attempting to claw at her. Maintaining her focus through its appearance and smell, Ada grabbed a hold of its throat. Quickly, Jolyn moved towards the side, giving Ada the opportunity to instinctively kick it into the side of the shed. As it struggled to stand firmly, Ada dug the pointed end of the screwdriver through the ear of the reanimated, feeling it sink in as if she were impaling hardened clay.
"Ugh!" She grunted, yanking the screwdriver from its head.
Carlos was helping divert the attention of the three other reanimated away from the homeless fellow and was also cowering away from the pursuit of one. As he backed up, he heard a loud gunshot. Naturally jumping in fright and covering his ears, he looked up, seeing Arne in the distance. Looking through his scope, he fired a clear shot at the second one, immediately putting it down like an enemy in a war zone. The final reanimated, however, was hard to shoot seeing that it was chasing Ada and Jolyn around. Arne contemplated, endlessly fidgeting around with the trigger. However, he saw Ada stop running, luring the reanimated into her field. She shuffled backward, still imperfect at the act of killing a walking corpse—or killing in general. As it snarled and growled at her, she finally allowed it to get close enough to a point where she could, once again, hold it by the throat. This time, she drove the screwdriver into its eye until it sunk in and touched the very handle. She aggressively pulled it out, stumbling backward before the monster could take both it and her to the ground with it.
She stared at its body, momentarily stunned by what occurred. Her eyes lifted from the reanimated at her feet.
"What were you thinking?" She asked her brother, on the verge of rage. But it barely took any response at all for her to feel scared for him. She momentarily embraced him and once she pulled away, his eyes nervously jerked away from her, unable to answer, "Speak to me! Please!" She urged.
"H-He was bringing me food…" The squatter kindly answered for him, "It wasn't his fault. They just came so quickly. They always do that."
After a long pause of uncertain looks and not knowing how to process it, Arne intervened.
"Let's talk about it inside."
Ada grabbed Jolyn's hand and somewhat dragged him back into the house, where Dora was watching over Emberly and waiting for her children in unsettlement. Once they arrived, Dora welcomed all three of the teenagers with affectionate hugs, not only proud of her son's benevolence but Ada's will to quickly adapt and Carlos' immaculate bravery.
Arne remained posted outside and watched as the squatter returned to his secluded lifestyle. He was picking up bits of cereal from the grass, carefully dusting off each grain of cereal before dropping it back into the bowl.
His tongue glossed over his top set of teeth, completely susceptible to the remorse, feeling as if he ultimately failed his duty as a serviceman.
"What's your name?" He asked.
Surprised that Arne hadn't turned his back on him, the man stuttered before speaking, unable to look at the man who openly showed his loathings towards him every time their eyes met before.
"M-Merwyn. Merwyn Middleton"
"Merwyn…" Arne repeated. After sizing him up, he ashamedly looked down at the ground on his way down, "Do you, uh, have a place to sleep for the night?"
A stupid question, but he answered anyhow.
"No," Merwyn immediately denied, wanting to keep the garden shed a secret.
Arne fell quiet, feeling to blame for throwing the defenseless out to fend for themselves in a world of ravaging predators. One simple thing led to another and this was undeniably Arne's fault. He stood stiffly in position with his fists placed on his hips. He was overthinking what the next step was. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the Chadwells reenter the haven they claimed as their own. The last person to enter was Jolyn, who repeatedly seemed to look back at the both of them. Once he vanished, Arne was prompted to look back.
"Why don't you come inside?" He offered. Merwyn's mouth fell open, unable to speak. He quickly began grabbing the crumbs of cereal, but Arne stopped him, "Forget that. You can whip yourself up a nice bowl of cereal and a nice cup of coffee inside. No one deserves to be out here."
Emberly, who was still looking on from the inside, watched both of them stroll back towards the house. She pulled away, closing the curtains while doing so.