Chapter III: Shots Fired (Chloe): Day 3/Saturday

AN:

Hey there, Fan-fic-folks!

Fuck it. Saturday is update day now. I seem to be okay at getting two chapters up for then and I'm irritated every time I don't make Thursday so I'm changing the day to avert that irritation because I'm starting to get irritated by it too and it's too weird to deal with.

So, this is just a short one. Half because it was supposed to be part of the last update that I didn't get chance to write in time for it and half because it makes a good lead-in to the next sequence. Also, for those of you wondering, I'm going for a slight variation of the Resident Evil Infection Rules, so no airborne infection everyone-who-dies-gets-it Walking Dead crap here.

Also, trying to write David like he's suggested to be in canon; namely, that whole 'he actually does care, but he's just really bad at parenting so he ends up being an abusive asshole with his care' thing that Dontnod dropped him into at the end. I'll probably mutate it as I go, trying to make him more step and less douche, but for the moment he still has absolutely no idea to parent and deals with Chloe in the absolute worst way. I mean, I get why he's supposed to be acting that way, that kind of... deindividuating abuse is pretty standard operating procedure in the military in order to actually make a soldier as the things soldiers do run completely counter to all normal human instincts (what kind of idiot runs toward gunfire instead of away from it, for example) and the only way to get people to do that (no matter how passionate or psychopathic they may be) is to completely reprogram those base survival instincts, but that's still no decent way to raise a child. Boot-camp removes individuality, nurturing, well, nurtures it.

Seriously though, the psychology of a bootcamp situation is absolutely fascinating, horrifying though it might be. Every single thing that new recruits go through, even before they step off the damn bus, is designed to take normal people and make them into a soldier. Look up stuff like boot camp deindividuation, boot camp abuse, and social identity in the military if you're interested in learning more because I could quite honestly write an entire 10,000 word chapter just on this alone. There's a Quora 'article' titled Why is boot camp so intense? that I think covers the topic nicely for those of you who don't speak the arcane tongue of scientific published study papers.

Thanks for reading and, as always, please review

The trip was as awkward as you'd expect. A girl from the wrong side of the tracks and the wife of the District Attorney didn't exactly have much in common with one another. Rose spent most of the journey being very concerned over Chloe's 'eclectic' driving technique, though most she ever said on the matter was a quiet and faintly desperate "Don't you think you should slow down?" as Chloe veered around yet another corner.

Chloe wasn't appreciative of the suggestion. "Fuck that noise. Gotta grab my Mom and Step-Douche's guns - and maybe Step-douche as well, I guess - then get to Portland already. No way I'm letting Rach get killed by one of those things because I didn't get there in time to kick the shit out of it."

Rose, though grateful for Chloe's protectiveness of her daughter, wasn't sure what to say to that, so she settled for sitting back in her seat and clutching the door for dear life as Chloe took yet another corner at unwise speeds.

Luckily for the state of Chloe's floors (already terrible) and Mrs Amber's constitution (also terrible), Chloe's truck ate up the miles and they ended up pulling into the Price-Madsen family driveway in less than fifteen minutes, easing to a stop with all the grace of a crashing zeppelin filled with drunken elephants. Chloe immediately hopped out and, after a moment, a shaken Rose Amber slowly followed.

They strode up to the door of the house and Chloe barged into it, attempting to shove it open as usual. It didn't budge. The door was locked. With a confused frown, she pulled back and glared at it. "Why the fuck is the door locked?"

Rose, giving Chloe's neighbourhood a worried frown, wondered mildly "You don't always keep your door locked?"

Chloe scoffed at Rose's judgement. "It's a small fucking - shit, language, sorry Mrs A - town. Nobody locks their doors around here." After a second of thought, she tried the handle again. Frustrated and confused, though mostly frustrated, she started to bang on the door with her fist. "Mom! Step-douche! Joyce! Fuckin' anyone, will you-"

A loud bang shocked her backwards as the space where the handle once was was replaced by empty space. She stared in wide-eyed shock at it, wondering who the hell just shot her door. Who shoots a door, anyway? What do they have against doors? It took her an alarmingly long time to realise it could've been her with the hole in her instead of the door. "What the fuck?"

A small voice calls out from inside the house. "Chloe? I-is that you?"

Chloe recognises it immediately. It was her mother's voice, after all. She charges through the now unlocked door (man, shotguns make effective lockpicks), calling out back to her. "Mom? Mom!" Unfortunately for her though, she wasn't paying much attention to where she was going and immediately slipped in the large pool of sticky blood in the doorway.

Her head cracked on the old wooden floor, leaving her dazed and staring into the open mouthed - and very dead - face of yet another zombie.

This was very disturbing for her, a word which here means 'holy shit! There's a dead person on my floor!"

With a concentrated effort, she managed to draw her eyes away from the corpse, landing them on the two shocked faces of the people hiding behind the upturned kitchen table at the end of the hall. Their faces, like the floor, were also covered in rapidly drying blood. She still recognised them immediately. One of them was her mother, after all. The other was just a douche, but he'd been around long enough that his visage was somewhat stuck in Chloe's brain, whether she wanted it there or not.

Without a thought, she scrambled to her feet and skittered over to them. Only at the last minute did she catch herself and slung her hands back in her pockets instead of around her Mom's shoulders. She was far too cool for that. It wasn't the fact that Joyce was sitting on the ground, covered in blood, and Chloe didn't want to seem worried. Or hurt her accidentally. Yes. Definitely not either of those things. "Uh... Hey Mom. Step-douche. What the fuck happened in here?"

David opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly narrowed his eyes at something over Chloe's shoulder. In a flash, he had the large rifle he was clutching raised, and fired a round off at whatever it- Oh. Chloe's mind suddenly realised what his target was and whirled to stop him. "Don't shoot her! Again, I mean!"

Rose Amber stood, shivering in quiet fear, in the Price-Madsen family doorway. Her eyes were locked unblinkingly on the large hold in the middle of the Price-Madsen family photo-board.

Headshot.

David lowered the gun, his brows mashed together in ashamed concern. "Oh God, I am so sorry. I thought you were one of those... things."

"Zombies," Chloe helpfully chimed in, relieved that she wasn't going to have to explain to her Angel how Chloe's Step-Douche had almost shot her Mom in the face. That would've made dating awkward later on.

Joyce, pulling herself up from the ground, shook her head. "There's- augh." A sudden pain buckled her legs and her body flopped limply on the table and she slid back down to the floor with a long, pained groan. "There's no such thing, Chloe. Whoever that man was was just a-"

"A fucking Zombie!" Chloe groaned in frustration, throwing her hands in the air. "Fuck, I went through this shit with Mrs A already, I do not wanna do it again."

Chloe's mouth shut as her mind finally caught up to the fact that Mrs Amber had just nearly been shot and was probably going through the same emotional turmoil as she had been only moments before. "Uh... Mrs A? Rose? You okay?"

Numbly, Mrs Amber nodded. She didn't take her eyes off the bullet hole, though. Chloe suspected she may have been lying. "Come on over, Mrs A. Sit down, get some water or some shit like that. I gotta check on Joyce."

As soon as Rose was settled, glass clutched in her shaking hand, Chloe turned to check on her mother.

For a woman who was usually composed and well put-together, Joyce looked terrible. She was almost entirely covered in blood, and any visible skin seemed to be covered in scattered nicks and scrapes. Chloe tried to hoist her up with a muttered request for assistance, but Joyce wouldn't move to help in any way. Chloe, in response to this stubbornness, simply glared.

Joyce had been a waitress in a trucker-frequented diner for over a decade, so she'd seen some things and developed a considerable streak of patience. At that moment though, Joyce was most unlike herself. She was feeling angry. Her response to Chloe's attempted aid was curt, and almost spat out. "I'm fine, Chloe. Would you just leave me alone?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Come on, Mom. Don't tell me you like being covered in blood now. I'm hella sure there's totally a period joke in there somewhere and - not the time right now, Chloe. Not the time."

She reached over irregardless, intending to clean some of the blood off Joyce's face, when her mother smacked her hand away and growled out "I do not need you condescending to me Chloe. I'm fine, so stop treating me like a damn child!"

Even David turned to look at her when he heard the pure fury in her voice. Joyce was full of Southern Fire and the grit acquired from a long career in the service industry, but anger at someone being concerned for her was... new. "Joyce, are you okay?"

She tries to cross her arms, but the compression of her lungs led to a rapid racking cough that made her response almost incomprehensible. "I'm fine."

Chloe's immediate thought was to call bullshit, but even she had a little more tact than that. Instead, she tried subtlety. "You sure?"

Nobody said she was particularly good at subtle.

Joyce slammed a fist down onto the floor, cracking it with the sheer force of her blow. "I am fucking fine, Chloe! Wouldya'll stop bothering me?"

Chloe opened her mouth to respond with... something, but whatever reply she was thinking of turned into a scream as her mother began to flail wildly about, sending little shockwaves through the floor every time a convulsing limb slammed down into it. Chloe scurried forward to help her, to hold her down or to do... something, but she got knocked across the room by a wayward backhand before she could get close.

David had frozen in shock at the sight of his wife having a fit, but quickly pulled himself together with the long experience of hectic war-zones and charged into the fray to help.

Joyce batted him away as easily as Chloe.

He and Chloe both scrambled back to their feet, trying a second time. None of them saw a way to her without being hit and flung again.

The three standing occupants of the Price-Madsen household understood then that they couldn't get close to Joyce, not while she was flailing like that. They'd just have to wait this out, whatever this was. They were stuck, watching in horror, as Joyce's flailing got worse and worse and her limbs began to slam into the floor with enough force to actual tear through the carpet and crack the foundation beneath it. All the while, she was screaming.

Eventually, after some long, painful minutes - none of them knew how many - Joyce's flailing began to slow, and then... stopped. They waited, finding it hard to believe that it was over, feeling almost confused about it, before they all surged towards her now-limp body.

Chloe went for the neck, checking for a pulse. She sighed in relief when she found one, feeling her shoulders suddenly relax, and she and David shared a grin. Their first ever, at the time.

Rose went with a mother's instincts, checking Joyce's temperature with a hand to the forehead. The moment her hand touched, she pulled back with a stung hiss. Joyce was burning up. Immediately, she turned to David. "She's got a high fever. She needs treatment, as soon as possible."

Chloe was wary, just as immediately. "We can't take her to a hospital! That's where everyone goes in these situations! It's gonna be hella full of Zombies!"

David whirled, eyes alight with anger. "Chloe! There's no such thing as Zombies. We are taking your mother to the hospital. So get your things together and get out to the car, now."

Chloe never did like being told what to do...

She stood, glaring David down. "No. Fucking. Way."

"Chloe!"

"You're not fucking taking her, Asshole. Over my dead body."

Technically it would be over the dead body in the hall, but Chloe certainly meant what she was saying. The idiot adults might have been still sceptical, but she was certain that this would get them all killed or worse.

David stepped forward again, trying to pull himself up and intimidate her with his bulk. Unfortunately for him, Chloe had been threatened by far scarier men than him, and she barely blinked. "Step-D... David. Seriously, this shit is happening." Her mouth creased as she thought of something to convince him, but... "Get them to come here."

"What?"

"Get them to come here," She repeats, slower. "We can't drive her, what if she starts shaking and shit again while you're driving? I already lost one parent to a fucking car crash, I am not gonna let you kill my Mom too."

David's face paled. After a second, he nodded. His chest rose as he took a deep breath and let it all slowly out. Then, he straightened up, and took control. "Alright, sol- Chloe. First thing to do with a fever is to get her into a cool bath, right?"

Rose nods, and David straightens just a little more. "Alright then. Mrs Amber, you call the hospital and get an ambulance here as quick as possible. Chloe and I will get Joyce into the bath." He waves her to the phone, then puts one of Joyce's arms over his shoulders and beckons Chloe over with an expectant 'get-over-here' shake of his head. Chloe obeys, for once, and takes the other arm.

Joyce was heavier than she expected. Her mother, for all her age and working in a diner could've done for her, ate healthily and exercised regularly, so she was covered in corded muscle. Despite the fact that this muscle was hindering rather than helping them, between the two of them they managed to drag her upstairs to the bathroom. They grunted and groaned and bitched at one another all the way, obviously.

When they got to the bathroom, David moved to lay Joyce in the tub, but Chloe stopped him. "Uh, Step- David, I'm no expert, but we should probably get the blood cleaned off before we drop her in a bath. Pretty sure that shit's how you get infections."

He nodded, and took a set of wet-wipes from the bathroom cabinet. He handed half to Chloe and set about cleaning up Joyce's arms and legs. Chloe started with the face. It was as hard as you'd imagine. There's a reason they don't let doctors operate on loved ones. It hurts and distracts us to see those we care about hurt or hurting.

They finished up as quickly as possible and tossed the wet-wipes into the trash in silence.

Getting her into the tub was easier than getting her up the stairs, though not by much. The screen door kept slipping under their wet hands. But they got her in and started to run the tap. It took a little concentration to keep it cool rather than cold, but between them they managed to get something workable.

David sat at the head of the bath, one hand on his wife's shoulder and the other clutching hers, running his thumb gently over the knuckles, staring down at her mournfully.

Chloe left him to it.

Personal growth.

She walked slowly downstairs, her thoughts rolling through her like slow and rumbling thunder that was inexorably whipping itself up towards becoming a storm. Her mother was hurt, battered and bruised and bloody, and she didn't know what to do, and she couldn't do anything anyway, and what the fuck use was she if she couldn't-

Rose Amber's head flashed up from the handset in her grasp, like a startled raccoon. She stared up at Chloe, eyes wide with rapidly growing dread.

The pit of Chloe's stomach dropped deeper than ever before. "Um. Mrs A..? Something wrong?"

It took her a moment to respond, almost like the bluenette's words were moving slower through the air. "They're not coming."

"Um. What?"

"They're not coming. The line is just..."

"Dead?"

Neither of them was certain what was more horrifying; the idea that the emergency services were gone, or Chloe's truly awful joke.

Rose just nods, her mind going immediately to her husband and child who were in the same city as the unresponsive hospital. Astounding herself, Chloe both picked up on Rose's anxiety and accurately guessed the source of it, and moved forward to put a semi-comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder. "Don't worry, Mrs A. We got this. Rach'll be fine, and she's totally fucking - sorry, language - badass enough to keep her dad alive too."

Rose, oddly, seemed comforted by that, though she was disturbed by the language. She nodded to herself, trying to reassure against her worries on top of the comfort Chloe provided. "But what about your mother? Will she be alright without..?"

Chloe shrugged, pulling on her usual shield of nonchalance and disregard to cover the broiling worry beneath. "We'll work something out."

Loud footsteps descended from the second floor (AN1) as David stomped downstairs. His face was dark with anger, his little moustache almost quivering with it. "Is that ambulance on it's way?"

Rose quickly glanced at Chloe, then shook her head. "The phone line is down and I..."

She was almost immediately interrupted by David's loud curse. "Damnit!

"David, I told you we-"

David held up an open palm, massaging his temple with the other. His voice was full of the long-suffering exhaustion most people who had to deal with Chloe's ornery side on a regular basis were driven to. "No, Chloe. Stop. I do not wanna hear it. We need to get your mother some medical attention."

Chloe thinks. "There's drugs for a fever, right?"

"Goddamnit, Chloe. We are not givin' your mother drugs!"

Chloe looks back at him, affronted. "Hey, no! I meant the legal shit! Like, from a pharmacy?"

David tilted his head, mulling it over. After a moment, he nodded. "Hmph."

He didn't say more.

So, Chloe took control. "What's the pharmacy in town called?"

"The Everett Pharmacy. The couple who run it are very nice." Rose smiled, her eyes going distant as if reliving some distant, happier memory.

"We gotta get there. We can buy some shit if the place is still running and... do something else if it's not."

David simply nodded and stayed quiet.

Chloe continued. "And we gotta bring guns."

"No." David spoke, curtly. "I know you think there's a problem here-"

"There is!" Chloe almost growled out. "Why won't you fucking-"

"Because there's no such thing as Zombies!" He stepped forward to her, trying to physically intimidate her yet again. Chloe returned his threat with the exact same disregarding glare as before. "You need to-"

"No, you need to fucking stop. Go and look at the dead dude in our fucking hallway if you want! Even if I'm crazy and that was just some murderer guy and I somehow managed to escape from jail on my own, isn't it better to be stocked up on shit just in case I'm right? There are viruses and shit that can make zombies, y'know. That wasp thing, or the weird ant mushrooms, or like, a mix of influenza and rabies, or-" She stops, shrugging sheepishly as Rose and David both stared in mild shock at her. "What? There was a documentary."

David shook his head in mild disbelief, but Chloe did have a point. He stood and walked past them into the garage, coming back a few moments later with a sidearm on his belt and a long rifle cradled in his arms. Chloe walked over to him, hands outstretched.

David immediately held the gun away. "No."

"But-"

"No."

"Dav-"

"No."

"Ugh. Fine." Chloe scowled. "Come on then, Step-douche. Let's get this fucking show on the road."

As they began to move to the front door, Rose spoke up. "Um... what should I do?"

Chloe turned back to her. "Wouldya keep an eye on Mom for us, please? Someone's gotta stay with her, and I figure you'd be hella good at all the Mom looking-after-people shit, right?" She smiled, attempting to be reassuring. She'd realised she seemed to be doing well with that recently and really wanted to keep up the successful streak.

Rose gave her another small smile in response. "Right. That seems like an excellent plan. I'll go upstairs then. Please do try to hurry back."

Chloe flashed a bright grin. "As fast as we can go, Mrs A."

They exchanged their goodbyes. Rose went upstairs and David and Chloe headed outside. Chloe moved to take her truck, but David cut her off. "We're takin' my car." When she opened her mouth to argue, he rolled his eyes. "It's faster, Chloe. We'll be back quicker this way and I don't trust that junker of yours won't break down on us."

Chloe's hackles were immediately raised by the dig at her baby and she bristled angrily. "Hey! Lay off the truck, step-douche. I don't shit on your shitty muscle car."

The two came to glares once again, neither one of them intending to back down. An idea occurred to Chloe that she knew would sell her point. "Do you really want the only person with a gun, since you won't give me one, to be stuck driving where you can't shoot shit? Doesn't that make bringing one hella pointless?"

"I didn't want to bring one in the first place, so-"

"David."

He stared at her for a few long moments in an uncharacteristic moment of empathy as he focused on the expressions running across her face. His face creased in a grumble as he nodded. "Fine. Let's get going already."

Chloe nodded back, and wisely left it alone. She strode over and hopped into the cab of her truck, waiting until David was seated next to her before pulling out of the drive and roaring off into the town.

"Chloe, would you slow the hell down?"