A/N: This story is rewrite of a adventure story I written years ago for fun called "Already Dead", I did publish it here but ended up deleting it. The original had grammer mistakes and missing parts of chapters, this is my third attempt rewriting it and if you see this, it was mostly successfuly. I hope anyone who stumbles across this enjoys this, all chapter were released at one time.
Chapter 1 - Corner Of The World
Gordon leaned back in his chair, the creak of the old wood echoing faintly in the quiet kitchen. His gaze drifted to Charlie, who sat across from him, cradling a chipped coffee mug. "That's it, then," she said, setting the mug down and pushing the plate of crumbs aside. "The last of the oats gone, and we've got maybe two jars of jam left. Great breakfast, huh?"
Gordon rubbed his temples, the deep lines on his face etched further by exhaustion. "Better than nothin'," he muttered.
She nodded, her expression hardening. "I've been doing the math. Even with the meat from the traps and the canned goods, we're coming up short. By next year, we'll be scraping bark off the trees."
Gordon sighed, the weight of their reality pressing against his chest. "Damn shame. Spent the better part of a year gettin' this place set up, thought we'd finally hit a safe stretch. Guess not."
Charlie leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "What's left nearby? We've already hit the trading post and that church down the hill. Anderson's picked clean. And I'm not about to start poking around where that other group's camped."
"You think I don't know that?" Gordon snapped, then immediately softened, running a hand over his graying beard. "Sorry. I know you're just tryin' to figure this out same as me."
She stared at him, her blue eyes steady and unflinching. "We need a plan, Gordon. What's out there?"
Gordon hesitated, the faint hum of the wood stove filling the silence. "There's one place," he began slowly. "Anderson Elementary."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "A school?"
"Yeah," Gordon confirmed. "Think about it. Schools always had emergency supplies. Could be food, blankets, maybe even medical kits. And most folks wouldn't've thought to hit it, not early on. Too busy clearin' out grocery stores and gas stations."
Her brow furrowed as she considered it. "And you don't think someone's already been through there by now?"
"Maybe," he admitted. "But it's a risk we gotta take. That school's a good ways out, couple miles past town. Could be folks haven't bothered with it, thinkin' it's too far or not worth it."
"That's a hell of a gamble." Charlie said, crossing her arms. "And it's not like we can just waltz in there. Who knows what's crawling around in those halls? Or who?"
Gordon leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, determined tone. "Charlie, we don't have much choice."
-_-_-
Gordon stepped cautiously through the doors of Anderson Elementary, his boots crunching over shards of broken glass. The once-proud entrance, adorned with a faded "Welcome Wildcats!" banner, now hung limp and weather-beaten, barely clinging to its last few tacks. Beside him, Charlie scanned the shadowy hallways. "Looks worse than I imagined," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gordon nodded, his gaze sweeping across the debris-strewn floor. "Place has seen better days," he said, he adjusted the shotgun slung over his shoulder and gestured for Charlie to follow him inside.
A faded bulletin board caught Gordon's attention, its cheerful construction paper cutouts peeling away from the cork. One corner still held the remnants of a calendar.. March 2003..
"Um..." Gordon mumbled, taking a deep breath. "Let's focus. You take the left wing. I'll handle the right. We meet back here in twenty minutes."
"You sure splitting up's a good idea?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's faster," he replied. "And time ain't exactly on our side."
Charlie hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "Fine."
Gordon watched her disappear down the hallway, her silhouette quickly swallowed by the darkness. Alone now, Gordon tightened his grip on the flashlight and made his way toward the right wing of the building. The classrooms were ghostly in their disarray.. rows of tiny desks toppled over, books spilling from broken shelves, colorful posters curling at the edges. One classroom door hung ajar, he nudged it open with the barrel of his shotgun. Inside, the remnants of a child's world lay frozen in time. A chalkboard at the front bore the faint traces of a lesson, "Long Division" scrawled in fading white. On one desk sat a forgotten lunchbox, its cheerful cartoon design incongruous against the gloom. Gordon flipped it open. Empty. "Figures," he muttered, closing it with a soft click. He moved to the supply closet, his pulse quickening as he tugged at the stubborn door. It gave way with a groan, revealing shelves lined with construction paper, glue sticks, and dried-out markers. Nothing useful.
A loud creak echoed from somewhere down the hall, and Gordon froze. His finger hovered over the shotgun's trigger as he strained to listen. For a moment, there was nothing but the pounding of his own heart. Then, another creak.. closer this time. "Charlie?" Gordon called softly, his voice barely carrying. No answer.
Gordon stepped cautiously into the hallway, his flashlight beam slicing through the darkness. The oppressive silence pressed against him, each shadow seeming to shift and breathe. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus.
Charlie made her way through the left wing, her crowbar held at the ready. She checked each classroom. In one room, she found a stack of unopened canned goods in a teacher's desk drawer. She smiled grimly as she added them to her pack. "Score," she whispered.
Her confidence wavered, however, as she entered the gymnasium. The vast, open space felt suffocating in its emptiness, the echoes of her footsteps bouncing off the high walls. A deflated basketball rolled lazily across the floor, propelled by a draft she couldn't place.
"You okay over there?" Gordon's voice crackled over the walkie clipped to her belt.
"Fine," she replied, though her voice betrayed her unease. "Found some food. What about you?"
"Nothing yet."
"Keep looking. I'm heading to the nurse's office next."
"Copy that. Watch your six."
The nurse's office yielded another small victory.. a few dusty bandages, a bottle of expired painkillers, and a half-used roll of gauze. Not much, but better than nothing. As Charlie stuffed the supplies into her pack, a faint noise.. like the scrape of metal on tile.. caught her attention. She froze, her breath hitching. "Gordon," she whispered into the walkie. "I heard something."
"Where?"
"Nurse's office. West wing."
"I'm on my way."
Charlie gripped her crowbar tightly, her eyes scanning the room as she backed toward the door. Moments later, Gordon appeared, his shotgun at the ready. "Anything?" he asked, his voice low.
She shook her head. "Might've been nothing."
"Or it might not," Gordon said, his expression grim. "Let's finish up and get the hell out of here."
They completed their search quickly, the tension palpable as every sound seemed magnified in the stillness. By the time they regrouped at the entrance, their packs were heavier. An faint sob pierced through the silence, freezing Gordon and Charlie mid-step as they neared the cracked glass doors of the elementary school.
"Did you hear that?" Charlie whispered, her voice low but sharp.
Gordon nodded, his grip tightening on the shotgun. "Yeah," he muttered, scanning the hallway behind them. "Sounded like… crying?"
The noise came again, soft and broken, from a room down the hall. Without waiting, Charlie moved toward it. Gordon grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Wait," he hissed. "Could be a trap."
Her eyes narrowed, and she shook him off. "It's a kid, Gordon."
"And it might not be," he countered, his voice low but firm. "We've seen worse things pretending to be harmless."
She glared at him for a beat, then turned back toward the source of the sound. "We're checking."
Reluctantly, Gordon followed, his flashlight beam sweeping the hallway as they approached the dilapidated classroom. The sobs grew louder, Charlie pushed the door open slowly, the hinges screeching like a wounded animal. The flashlight revealed a small figure huddled in the far corner, half-hidden behind a toppled desk. It was a little girl, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her tangled hair clung to her tear-streaked face, and her tiny frame trembled with every muffled sob. "Jesus," Charlie breathed, lowering the crowbar.
Gordon's stomach clenched as he stood frozen in the doorway. "What the hell is she doing here?"
The girl looked up at the sound of his voice, her wide, bloodshot eyes locking onto theirs. Fear flashed across her face, and she shrank further into the corner.
"Hey," Charlie said softly, taking a cautious step forward. She set the crowbar down on the floor and raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "It's okay. We're not going to hurt you."
"Charlie, hold up." Gordon said, his tone laced with unease. He kept his shotgun raised, though he didn't aim it directly at the child. "We don't know what's going on here."
"She's scared out of her mind," Charlie snapped over her shoulder. "That's what's going on."
"She could be bait," Gordon argued, though the words felt hollow as he looked at the trembling child.
Charlie ignored him and crouched down, her voice softening. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
The girl hesitated, her small hands gripping the straps of her backpack tightly. "K.. Kelly," she stammered, her voice barely audible.
"Hi, Kelly," Charlie said gently. "I'm Charlie, and this is Gordon. Are you here alone?"
Kelly nodded quickly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "They… they left me," she choked out, her words broken by sobs.
"Who?" Charlie pressed, her eyes flicking to Gordon briefly. Kelly only whimpered, curling into herself.
"Charlie," Gordon said quietly, his voice heavy. "We don't have time for this."
Charlie spun to face him, anger flashing in her eyes. "Are you serious right now? She's a child, Gordon!"
"She's also a liability," he shot back, his voice low but firm. "We barely have enough to get through the winter as it is. You know that."
"So what? We just leave her here to die?"
"I'm saying we need to think this through," Gordon said, his voice softening, though his expression remained grim. "This isn't just about her. It's about us, too."
Charlie straightened, her eyes blazing. "I can't believe you're even debating this."
Gordon looked at Kelly, who was watching their exchange with wide, fearful eyes. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's math, Charlie. Three mouths to feed instead of two."
"Don't talk to me about numbers, Gordon," she shot back, her frustration breaking through. "She's not a calculation. She's a little girl."
"A little girl who's been on her own for who knows how long," he countered, keeping his voice low. "You really think it's going to be that easy? She's scared, she's traumatized, and we're not exactly equipped to deal with that."
Charlie crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "So what's your solution? Walk away and pretend we never saw her?"
Gordon took a deep breath, shaking his head. "You deal with her then."
Charlie's shoulders relaxed slightly, but she didn't smile. Instead, she turned away. "Kelly?" she said softly, kneeling down. Kelly looked up, her wide eyes brimming with tears. "We're going to take you somewhere safe," Charlie said, her voice gentle but firm. "It's going to be okay."
Kelly didn't respond, but she nodded hesitantly, clutching her tattered backpack tighter.
"Come on," Charlie said, holding out her hand.
The girl hesitated, her gaze flicking between Charlie and Gordon. After a moment, she reached out and took Charlie's hand.
"Alright," Gordon muttered. "Let's move."
-_-_-
The cabin was smaller than Kelly had imagined. She hesitated just outside the threshold, her bare feet scuffing against the rough wooden step as the wind bit at her cheeks. It smelled like wood smoke and something faintly metallic, a scent she couldn't place but found oddly comforting. "Come on in, sweetheart," Charlie said softly, reaching out a hand to her.
Kelly flinched at the gesture, her thin shoulders stiffening. Her eyes flicked from Charlie's outstretched hand to Gordon, who was unloading their supplies on the kitchen table.
"You're safe here," Charlie added, her voice a little quieter now. "It's warm inside, and you must be tired."
Kelly stepped inside cautiously, her small frame dwarfed by the oversized coat Charlie had draped over her back at the school. She kept close to the door, her eyes darting nervously around the room. The cabin's cozy interior.. worn counch, a crackling fireplace, a stack of books on a low shelf.. felt worlds apart from the cold, empty school she'd just left behind.
"I'll take her to clean up," Charlie said, her voice low as she looked over at Gordon.
He gave a short nod, not looking up as he placed a few cans of food on the table. "You do that. I'll get this sorted."
Charlie knelt down to Kelly's level, a faint smile softening her tired features. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay? I've got some clean water, and we'll see if we can do something about your hair." Kelly hesitated, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of the coat. "You don't have to say anything," Charlie said gently, "but I'll need your help figuring out what's going on under all that dirt." Slowly, Kelly nodded and Charlie reached out again to guide her.
The bathroom was small, with just enough space for a sink, a toilet, and an old clawfoot tub. A cracked mirror hung above the sink, reflecting the hesitant face of the girl who now stood clutching the doorframe. Charlie grabbed a small plastic basin from under the sink and filled it with water from a jug. "This might be a little chilly," Charlie warned, setting the basin on the edge of the tub. She reached for a washcloth and soap, glancing over at Kelly. "Think you can handle it?"
Kelly nodded again.
"Okay," Charlie said softly. She soaked the cloth in the water, wrung it out, and offered it to Kelly. "You can start with your hands, if you want. Just a little at a time."
Kelly stared at the cloth, then up at Charlie. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to take it.
"Good," Charlie encouraged. "You're doing just fine."
As Kelly scrubbed at her hands, Charlie turned her attention to the girl's hair. It was matted and tangled, the once chocolate-brown strands streaked with dirt and grime. "Let's see if we can fix this up a bit," Charlie said, grabbing a comb from a nearby shelf. "It might tug a little, but I'll be gentle. You just tell me if it hurts, okay?"
Kelly gave a small nod, still focused on cleaning her hands.
Charlie worked carefully, starting at the ends of Kelly's hair and working her way up. The comb caught in the knots more than once, but she never tugged, taking her time to ease out each tangle.
"You've been through a lot, haven't you?" Charlie said softly, more to herself than to Kelly.
Kelly didn't respond, but her shoulders tensed.
"It's okay," Charlie reassured her, her voice a soothing murmur. "You don't have to talk about it. Not until you're ready."
A lump rose in Kelly's throat. She blinked rapidly, trying to push it down.
"There," Charlie said after a while, setting the comb aside. She reached for a towel and draped it over Kelly's shoulders. "You look like a brand-new person."
Kelly glanced at the mirror, her reflection unfamiliar. Her hair was still damp, but it was free of knots and grime. Her face, pale and gaunt, stared back at her with wide, green eyes. Charlie knelt in front of her, brushing a strand of hair behind Kelly's ear. "You're safe here," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "I promise."
The words hit Kelly like a wave, and she felt the lump in her throat swell. She tried to swallow it back, but a single tear slipped down her cheek.
Charlie reached up, gently brushing it away with her thumb. "It's okay to cry," she whispered. Kelly hesitated, then gave the smallest of nods, her tears falling freely now. Charlie pulled her into a gentle embrace, holding her close as she sobbed quietly into her shoulder. "You're going to be okay," Charlie murmured, her voice steady despite the crack of emotion in it. "We'll take care of you."
-_-_-
The warmth of the fire couldn't reach Kelly. She sat curled in the far corner of the living room, her back pressed against the wooden wall, knees drawn up to her chest. The blanket Charlie had wrapped around her earlier was now clenched tightly in her fists. From her corner, Kelly watched Charlie and Gordon. They spoke in low voices near the kitchen table, their faces partially illuminated by the glow of the fire.
"She's a kid, Gordon," Charlie said softly, glancing toward Kelly.
"I know that," Gordon replied. "But we can't just act like this doesn't change things. Supplies are tight as it is. We planned for two, not three."
Kelly's stomach twisted. They were talking about her. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and she lowered her head, resting her forehead on her knees. Sleep eventually pulled her under, the darkness of the cabin gave way to the chaos of memory.
Kelly was back in the school, running. Her lungs burned, her legs ached, and her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear her mother's voice over it. "Keep going, Kelly! Don't stop!"
Her mother's hand gripped hers, pulling her forward, but the hallway stretched endlessly ahead of them. The fluorescent lights above flickered and buzzed, casting long, warped shadows over the tiled floor. Behind them came the sounds she tried so hard to forget.. the shouts of strangers, the thudding of heavy footsteps, the crash of something metal falling.
Her father's voice echoed, sharp and commanding. "Get her out of here! I'll hold them off!"
"No!" Kelly screamed, twisting in her mother's grip. "Daddy!"
But her mother didn't stop. She didn't even look back. "We don't have time!" her mother said, her voice breaking.
The scene shifted abruptly. Kelly was in a classroom now, the door slammed shut behind her. Her mother crouched in front of her, hands gripping Kelly's shoulders so tightly it hurt.
"Stay here," her mother whispered, her face pale but determined. "Stay quiet. No matter what you hear, you don't come out. Do you understand me?"
Tears blurred Kelly's vision. She shook her head, clutching at her mother's arms. "Don't go. Please don't go."
"I love you, Kelly. You're so brave, my sweet girl." Her mother kissed her forehead, then stood, her face hardening with resolve. "Stay hidden."
The door opened, and her mother slipped out, leaving Kelly alone in the suffocating silence. Kelly hugged her knees to her chest, trying to stifle her sobs. The sounds outside grew louder—shouting, crashing, the unmistakable echo of gunfire. Kelly's breath hitched as the classroom door creaked open.
Kelly blinked, her breath hitching as she sat upright, her heart pounding in her chest. She instinctively clutched the frayed blanket tighter around herself.
From the kitchen, Charlie paused mid-stir, her gaze shifting to the small figure curled up in the corner. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice careful, almost hesitant, as if she feared startling Kelly further. She turned back to the stovetop where a pot of soup simmered, its aroma faint but inviting.
Gordon, seated at the kitchen table sharpening a hunting knife, glanced up briefly before returning his attention to his task. He didn't speak, but his brow furrowed slightly.
Kelly didn't respond to Charlie, instead pulling her knees closer to her chest.
Charlie ladled a portion of soup into a chipped ceramic bowl and wiped her hands on a worn dish towel. "I thought you might be hungry," she said, taking a cautious steps toward Kelly. "It's nothing fancy.. just potato and carrots. But it's hot." Kelly's eyes darted to the bowl, then back to Charlie's face. "You can eat it here," Charlie added quickly, sensing Kelly's hesitation. "Or, if you'd like, you can join us at the table."
At this, Gordon glanced up again, his expression unreadable. He exchanged a brief look with Charlie but didn't comment. Kelly's grip on the blanket tightened. She shook her head slowly, before lowering her gaze to the floor.
"That's okay," Charlie said, she crouched slightly, lowering the bowl to Kelly's level. "Here you go. It'll warm you up."
For a moment, Kelly didn't move. Then, tentatively, she reached out, her small, trembling hands brushing against the ceramic. The warmth seeped through her fingers.
Charlie straightened, taking a step back to give Kelly space. "Let us know if you need anything else, alright?"
Kelly nodded faintly, her eyes fixed on the bowl as she cradled it in her lap.
Charlie returned to the kitchen, the sound of her chair scraping softly against the wooden floor as she sat down across from Gordon. She folded her hands on the table, her eyes flicking between him and Kelly.
"She's scared out of her mind," Charlie said under her breath, though not so quietly that Kelly wouldn't hear. "We've got to ease her into this."
"And how do you plan on doing that?" Gordon muttered, he didn't look up as he continued sharpening his knife. "You saw how she curled up when you got too close. Pushing her won't help."
"I'm not pushing her," Charlie shot back. "I'm trying to make her feel safe."
Gordon shrugged. "Safe doesn't come from words. It comes from time. She doesn't trust us, Charlie. Why would she?"
Charlie opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself, glancing toward Kelly. The girl had retreated even further into her corner, her face half-hidden behind the blanket as she slowly spooned soup into her mouth.