"All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed." -Richard Adams, Watership Down


Summer

2023

Moonlight crept through barred windows, casting broken shadows against the hospital floor. Willow's dusty bare feet padded silently down the hall as she ducked around corners. White strands of her hair glistened where the night touched them, floating gently free from the knot at the back of her head. Summer rain pounded outside, drowning the shallow puffs of her breath; as well as any footsteps that might be pursuing her. Her heart rate was a gallop, but her movements were swift and sure.

Johnny Goodacre, the guard stationed in ward C every Thursday and Sunday, had a fondness for her. He also had a cigarette habit and a lousy memory. She'd grinned at him, bubbly, asking questions and fawning for weeks until he'd finally given her what she needed. This would've been news to him, of course. To him, she was another mad little girl in an endless parade of "unfortunate cases." Harmless.

She bit the inside of her cheek against what might've been a smile; unfolding the small, tobacco-stained scrap of paper hidden in the cup of her palm. She waited, squinting to check it against the dingy wall clock whose tick, tick, tick punctuated the space between her heartbeats. There was honestly no telling if this clock was even running on time, but the fact that it was working at all had to be a good sign.

Personal timepieces were, obviously, not allowed. To get your hands on anything that wasn't strictly controlled by the doctors and FEDRA, you had to bribe a guard. And in order to bribe a guard, you had to have something they wanted. That was not, currently, a bargain she was willing to make; so she folded her little paper back up and said a silent prayer to anything. Shifting her only bag to her other shoulder, she continued to the darkened doorway that loomed ahead of her.

She paused every few steps, ears straining. Heard nothing. Continued. According to Johnny's rough pen-scratch, there were eleven minutes until room checks. When her empty bed was discovered, alarms would be raised. If she wasn't outside by then, well… she had better be.

The sweeping beam of a flashlight cut through the window, freezing her in her tracks for the moment before it passed by. Muffled voices echoed from outside, blurred by the rain. Patrol guards. The hospital was at the very edge of the Quarantine Zone, so that was expected. Her head was on a swivel, shifting toward every little creak and groan of the architecture; pushing on until she came to the inky mouth of a wide, silent staircase.

She willed her eyes to adjust, to no avail. Moving down step by step, she had to navigate by touch. Anxiety and adrenaline mixed like acid; her stomach swooping. Each step down felt like it would be the moment she'd slip, crashing down the echoey staircase and losing her only chance at escape. Each time her toes connected with the hard tile of the next step, she loosed a shaky exhale.

One hand trailed along the wall when the ground flattened out, and she let it drift across the raised ridges of the sign that indicated the second floor landing. For a few steps she had only the wall to lead her, then her fingers wrapped around the rail once more, continuing her descent. She could no longer see the sliver of light at the top of the stairs, and she struggled to control a surge of panic. Everything is fine. This is part of the plan.

When she was halfway down the next flight of stairs, the plan changed. The gleam of a flashlight, shone from the bend in the corridor just ahead, caught her directly across the face. She sucked in a breath, throwing herself to the ground so she was hidden by the stone ridge of the half-wall railing. The beam passed immediately back over, and she heard a voice from just below her.

"-the fuck was that?" A male voice, followed by the scuffle of shoes against tile.

"What was what?" The reply was bored, feminine, and carried a hint of a yawn.

She kept herself low, feeling a steady burn build in her calves as she began to creep back up to the previous landing.

"I swear I just saw something up there."

Another step up. She didn't dare breathe. The shoes shuffled slightly closer this time.

"You're seeing things." A heavy sigh from the second voice. "You've been on duty, what? Nineteen hours? We've got a few minutes before room checks, let's do a loop of this floor and grab a cup of coffee."

"Please," an audible scoff. "You call that coffee? Watered down instant bullshit. What I wouldn't do for a real goddamn cup."

She pulled herself off the staircase and around the corner just before the owner of the flashlight rounded the bottom step; the beam falling directly across where she'd been moments before.

"Better than what the civvies get. Now hurry your ass up, I don't wanna get written up for being behind schedule again."

The light lingered for another moment, silence ticking on painfully. Every moment she stayed here was that much closer to the consequences of failure. Then, a huffed out breath, and the light swiveled away. Footsteps faded into the darkness, followed by the creak of hinges and a closing door. Breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding exited her lungs in a rush, her gasp cutting sharply through the stagnant air as her mind whirled.

They were doing an extra loop of the first floor. Bad. Very fucking bad. There was no telling if they'd split up or stay together to do the sweep, and she'd definitely be spotted if she used the same doorway they just left through. She needed a new plan, and she needed it fast. Everything she knew from her years living in this place flashed through her mind, like flipping through pages of a book.

Then, she had it. A single scrap of hope, smaller even than the flimsy smoking paper she still worried between her fingers. The maintenance elevator connected directly to the alley behind the hospital. It hadn't been in service for years, probably due to safety concerns, and sat rusting at the far end of the second floor hallway.

She scrambled through the heavy door, edging it closed slowly to keep it from thundering against the frame. The pale light filtering in from outside gave her back her sight, and she blinked several times to adjust. The hall was silent, residents all sleeping soundly behind triple-locked panels of heavy steel. A decades-old sign hung from the ceiling, pointing one direction to cardiology and another to the gift shop.

Her toes collected the perpetual layer of grime that gathered on the floor, and everything else in the QZ. The metal of the elevator doors gleamed even in the near-darkness. She sped up to it, fingers hovering over the buttons, when her heart dropped. A keyhole sat above the up and down buttons, beneath a plaque that read: key required to operate. Her gaze darted back and forth, heart pounding so fast she feared it might actually stop. Key?

it's time to die

die die die

Her mind began to chant; shrill, demanding. She jerked her jaw sharply, like she could silence the voice by physically shaking it out. Where had she seen keys?

die die die

mama would be so disappointed

you're no good

just let them catch you

you deserve it

She dug her nails into her palm, ignoring the shadows that crept along the edges of her vision. Ignoring the way her throat tightened around every breath, quickening them to gasps.

"No, no, no. Not right now, please." The drone of rain covered her whispered plea to herself. "I'm fine. I'm fine, I'm fine."

She continued mouthing the words to herself. Fine. I'm fine. She knew she'd seen a keyring somewhere, she just needed to calm down enough to remember where. She shut her eyes, and a memory began to surface. It was a few weeks ago; she'd been picking at soggy oats in the mess hall, eyes locked on the sky through barred windows, when she'd heard the quiet jingle of metal. It had caught her attention, just for a moment, and she'd turned toward the sound.

She'd seen a silver ring with at least a dozen keys, fastened to the hip of Ed Milligan. He'd been a guard for longer than she'd lived here, and she knew where he left his things when he clocked out. That was the good news.

The bad news was that he left them at the second floor guard station, which always had a watchman on duty. She glanced around, frantic, eyes sliding to another clock on the wall to her left. The second hand ticked on, unrelenting. Seven minutes left. Her feet were moving before she realized she'd made a decision. Darting around a corner, she moved as quickly as possible while keeping her footfalls silent.

It wasn't far to the guard station, which was really nothing more than a squat desk and a couple of stools. A blocky old monitor hummed on the desktop, screen flickering with grainy camera footage. The only electricity in the building was funneled into the security system at night, but that wasn't saying much.

There were three cameras in the hospital; two pointing to the major exits at the front and back, and one in this very hallway. The video feed flicked between the images, with a clock in the bottom corner counting up hours by the second. She nearly sighed in relief when she saw the single man propped up behind it. He slumped back against the wall, visor pulled down to cover his sleeping face. The navy blue of his FEDRA uniform was illuminated under the harsh electronic light of the screen, gleaming off the black metal of his visible sidearm.

A series of hooks adorned the wall behind his head. They hung with jackets and gun belts, sweaty overshirts and… there. Her gaze snagged on a silver key ring, strung with a dozen or more keys, hanging less than a foot above the crest of his helmet.

Not giving herself a moment to second guess her plan, she took a tiny step past the desk. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. Another small step, toes flexing against tile. The man shifted his weight, grunting as he leaned harder into the wall, and she bit down so sharply she tasted blood. With a third step, she was hovering over him, fingers within reach of the keys.

The security camera hung at the end of the hall, facing her with its flat black lens. A little red light flashed, indicating that it was recording. Her eyes flicked back to the screen and she could see herself, and the man, from an awkwardly high angle. Her hospital clothes were essentially cotton pajamas; a loose fitting white shirt, and shorts beneath which she could see the backs of her skinny legs. She sucked in a breath and scooped up the key ring in a single movement, cringing at the metal-on-metal jingle.

When he didn't stir, the relief nearly took her to her knees. She could feel her body trembling with pure adrenaline, and scrambled for control over herself.

take the gun

Her breath stalled in her throat. Listening to that taunting voice never led anywhere good… but, it wasn't a terrible idea. She had no weapon. Best case scenario, she escaped tonight and found herself wandering the open country surrounded by infected. The dark metal shone in the pale light, tempting.

take it

take it

take it

Her hand moved on its own, darting to his holster and wrapping around the hilt. It wasn't until her fingers were circled around it that the shock of what she was doing traveled up her arm, and into the rest of her body, locking her in place. She'd never held a gun before. I am fine. She forced a deep, shaky breath.

Slowly, so slowly, she began to slide the gun free. It was heavier than she'd expected. The weight in her palm grounded her to reality in a flash of terror. It slipped from his belt at the same moment a yelp escaped her throat. She slammed a hand over her mouth, too late. He jolted, snores cutting off sharply as he scrambled to stand up.

"Wha-? Fuck!" His voice was thick with sleep.

He lurched at her, grabbing for his weapon. She sprung back, hands shaking, and aimed it right at him. She had no idea what she was doing, but she'd seen enough people get shot to know where the trigger was. When he began to move for his radio she stomped a bare foot, rattling the gun at him. He reluctantly raised his palms.

"Who the fuck are you?" He barked at her.

What a time for the words to get stuck in her throat. Her mind spun too fast for her mouth to catch up, a thousand thoughts swirling into a haze her voice couldn't cut through. She practically vibrated, hands trembling with the weight of the gun, and… she had no idea what to do next. Her breaths were shallow and frantic, leaving her lightheaded.

shoot him

No. That was a bad idea. Someone would hear the shot, the alarm would ring. She'd be caught and killed, or worse.

shoot him

shoot him

shoot him

The voice was so loud. She needed her meds, but they were in her backpack. Panic choked her, and her hands loosened without her permission. She watched in horror, one moment stretching into an eternity, as the gun clattered to the floor. It hit the tile with an ear-splitting crack, and the bright flare of detonating gunpowder. The man screamed and fell, clutching his ankle as a pool of darkness began to sleep out from beneath him. She didn't think, she just ran.

The hall flew by in a blur of monochromatic grey-blue, the soles of her feet stinging as they slapped against the hard floor. She raced around the corner, the guard's howls chasing her down the corridor as nauseating guilt began to bloom in her stomach. What the fuck had she just done? Her eyes stung, vision blurring as tears brimmed behind her lashes.

She reached the elevator, her momentum slamming her into the doors with a hollow thunk. The keys jingled between her fingers as she struggled to sort through them with her shaking hands. Shit. There were too many keys to try them randomly, more guards would be pouring into the hall any second.

She studied the keyhole, searching wildly. The shape wasn't particularly distinctive, not that she had held many keys in her life, but it looked like any of these could fit the squiggly little hole above the elevator buttons. The metal of the keyhole itself, though, was different. It was dark, not as shiny as most of the keys in her hands. She flipped through them as quickly as she could, watching the hazy moonlight sparkle off of each one.

She could hear the thunder of approaching boots on the stairs. Or maybe that was the jackhammer of her own heart, pounding in her ears. Each key she flipped past seemed not to match the dull metal of the keyhole, and with each one she grew more desperate. The number of remaining keys was dwindling. A small spark of moonlight glinted off each one, and then it didn't. There were three keys left to flip through, but only one of them was dull as stone.

It took her three tries to force it into the lock; her trembling fingers kept missing, and for a moment she was sure it wouldn't fit. And then it slid into the keyhole, turning with a sharp click, and the up and down buttons began to glow. She slammed her hand into the down arrow, listening to the doors chug themselves to life. The guard down the hall was still screaming, his curses echoing off the walls. Glancing around, she realized all of a sudden that she was being watched.

The door to each hospital room that lined this hall had a small window, and right now there was a face pressed to every one, staring right back at her. Of course, a gunshot would've woken all the sleeping patients. In the dark, she could just see their silhouettes, and their watchful eyes only stoked her fear. The doors slid open and she darted through, yanking the keys from the wall behind her. Inside a sickly yellow light clicked on, illuminating twenty year old dirt stains on walls that used to be white. She felt the passage of time so keenly, each second was like a whip-crack against her mind. The doors started to close- too fucking slowly.

time to die

Not today. She jammed her finger into the button that read maintenance exit. Those were definitely footsteps approaching. Only a slice of space remained between the closing doors, when the lights came on. The screech of an alarm began to blare, deafening.

time to die

Shouts erupted into the hallway just as the doors shut completely, muffling the sounds. The ancient machine jolted as it moved, startling another yelp from her. If she was lucky, none of the guards would've seen her use the elevator, so they wouldn't know where she'd run to. Of course, all those patients would. And they would tell; they wouldn't have a choice. But maybe, she could be gone by then. Outside the wall, with at least the chance to die on her own terms. Maybe.

The insistent squall of the alarm felt like it would burst her ear drums. She pressed her hands over her ears, blocking out what she could. The creaking mechanisms of the elevator moved at a sluggish pace, and she began to feel like a caged bird.

time to die

She nearly jumped out of her own skin when she felt the movement stop, and the jerk of machinery as the back of the elevator opened. A second set of doors parted, and fresh air spilled in. It smelled like earth, and rain, and sky. Her mouth popped open, air rushing from her lungs in a hysterical giggle. Tears tracked down her cheeks, but were immediately washed away as she stepped out into the steady downpour.

There was one moment of profound relief, and then her thin clothing was instantly soaked. She slipped, nearly losing her balance when she stepped into slick mud. She was outside. It was suddenly dizzying, and terrifying, to comprehend the scale of outside. The only goal had been to escape, and now…

Shouts echoed from within the hospital. Right - now it's time to run. The wall stood, tall and imposing, between her and true freedom. This was the crux of her plan; the snippet of conversation she'd overheard between guards just over two months ago. There should be a passage not far from here, used by smugglers to deliver pills to the FEDRA agents.

Which direction was it from the maintenance exit, though? She didn't know, and she was running out of time. The ground sloped downward here, and she stumbled blindly forward, groping along the wall to keep her balance in the relentless rain. She had to pick a direction, so she went to the right. She kept needing to look at the ground to be sure she wasn't stepping on anything sharp.

A glance behind her confirmed that lights glowed from every window of the building. She could see silhouettes darting behind the second and third floor windows, but the first floor remained still for the moment. They didn't know she was outside- yet. She rushed ahead, feeling along the cold cement wall for the fissure she prayed would be there.

The area behind the hospital was littered with debris; corrugated steel, wood, and glass jutted up from the ground haphazardly. Greenery flourished, nearly enveloping it all in a curtain of leaves. An old dumpster rotted against the wall, hemmed in by thick ivy. It would be beautiful, in a sort of morbid way, if she weren't in such a panic.

She made her way around the dumpster, and nearly missed the break in the wall hidden behind it. To be fair, that was probably the point. The hunk of junk was about a million pounds, and her shoulder ached where she braced against it to push it out of the way.

She groaned with the effort, exhaustion seeping into her bones. Just a little further. The metal creaked and squealed as she shoved it, grating against the stone wall. Finally, it budged enough for her to squeeze herself into the claustrophobic opening in the wall before her. She gulped, swallowing back her fear as she wiggled through the gap.

The sparse light of the moon and the FEDRA watchtowers was immediately eclipsed by stone, and black, and her own pounding heart. For a minute she couldn't see anything, and the tunnel felt like it was getting tighter and tighter around her. Then she was through, squirming through the other side into the vast unknown. The world seemed to open up around her, ready to swallow her. A beam of light from a nearby tower darted back and forth; searching.

Her eyes were still blurry in the rain, and adjusting to the light, when she tried to take a step forward. Tried, and failed, because there was no ground to step onto. She tumbled over a sheer drop, sliding down a muddy slope into the dark valley of a trench. A network of trenches laced out from the wall, separated by the bodies of old storage containers and semi trucks; where soldiers patrolled to make sure no one did what she was doing right now.

She sputtered, letting out a sound that was half a yelp and half a gasp. Her palm stung, and as she lifted it from where she'd caught herself in the dirt she saw beads of blood welling up. Struggling to push herself to her feet in the sucking mud, she stumbled twice before she got her legs under her. She was trying to steady the frantic pace of her breathing when a ray of light slashed across her vision, landing squarely on her shivering form. Throwing an arm across her face, she squinted to try and make out who held the flashlight.

"Stop right there!" The shout was commanding, masculine, and it froze her blood in her veins. "Hands where I can see them."

She complied, raising her palms to prove she wasn't armed.

time to die

Well, she really couldn't argue this time, could she? She was going to die here. Maybe it would be better this way, never having to face the monsters she knew lurked outside. At least she made it out. At least she did what no one else ever had, and escaped that horrible fucking place. Her throat tightened so hard it hurt, and she could feel the heat of her own tears beneath the rain.

"Get on your knees." The soldier bit out.

He didn't give her a chance to comply before circling behind her and knocking her knees forward with the butt of his rifle. She hit the ground hard, the impact jarring her teeth together with a snap. There was mumbling, and radio static, as though he was speaking to a superior officer. Oh, fuck. No, no, no.

"Please," she gasped at the man. "Please just shoot me. Don't tell them where I am."

"Shut your fucking mouth."

This could not happen. She would not go back. If she ran now, she could force his hand. He'd have to shoot. How had this gone so badly in only a matter of seconds? Her whole plan dissolved before her eyes, leaving only the burning resolution to never be locked away again. She exhaled a shaky breath, gathering her courage. Maybe it would be quick. She shifted her weight into her toes, ready to press into them and run, when another sound cut through the night.

"Holy shit, I'm actually outside." A different voice. A kid's voice. What the fuck?

The officer jammed the barrel of his gun against the base of her skull hard enough to bruise. Had he heard the voice too? She was trembling uncontrollably; probably from cold, though she couldn't feel it past the numbness of shock.

"Get your hands behind your head," he barked. "And stop moving."

She did her best to comply, but her body felt like it belonged to someone else, and she was clumsily controlling it like a puppet on strings. She was suddenly unsure about running, and her moment of hesitation stretched into a dozen more. FEDRA would be here soon, and if they didn't kill her she was in for a fate far worse. So why couldn't she move?

When two silhouettes emerged from a nearby storage container, she assumed they were more soldiers. Acid panic leapt into her throat, choking her, before her eyes focused on them. A man; tall, with greying hair and a beard, wearing a battered rucksack. He gripped baseball bat of all things. And beside him, a fucking child. A little girl.

The officer's flashlight snapped to them, his rifle pivoting away from her, and the man seemed to put himself between the kid and the gun on instinct.

"Don't move!" He ordered, and she saw a muscle tick in the stranger's jaw as he complied. "Hands behind your heads!"

The kid looked to him before following suit, like she was waiting to see what he'd do. Coppery hair clung to her face in the sheeting rain, and her thin hoodie was clearly already soaked. Willow had the distinctly ridiculous impulse to get the child something warmer to wear.

When the officer forced them to their knees beside her, she felt all her muscles go taught. Her hackles bristled as he lay a hand on the girl. Her little face was tight with barely restrained fear, her pale green eyes wide and glistening.

"Listen," the stranger spoke. His voice was low; Southern. "You let us go, I can make this worth your while."

"Shut the fuck up." The officer shifted behind her, and then she felt the sharp sting of a needle in her neck.

She flinched back, but the scanner was already whirring with its sample of her blood. It gave a small click and a beep, before flashing green. The screen reflected in his mirror-like visor. He moved to the man, sticking his neck with the machine and waiting until it showed green to change his focus. The kid was losing it; her shoulders shook, breaths coming quick. She clutched something close to her chest, and as the soldier approached her with the scanner-

A fierce cry ripped from her and she jabbed her arm back, stabbing him in the leg. He stumbled back, raising his gun to shoot her, but the man was already lunging for him. He tackled him to the ground, shoulder connecting with his sternum and knocking the wind out of him as he fell. The officer fumbled with his gun, aiming for the man, but he was stronger. The man wrapped his hands around the officer's weapon, and by the time he was able to pull the trigger it was aimed at the sky. The man ripped it from his grasp, turning it on him and firing in a single motion.

The bullet cracked his visor, splattering the interior with blood and brains.

"Oh fuck," the kid scrambled backwards, her face a mask of shock. "I thought we were just gonna hold him up or something."

The stranger shoved himself up from the ground, letting the soldier's limp body drop. He hadn't even flinched when the gun went off, as though killing meant nothing to him. He slung the rifle over his shoulder like second nature, before pivoting to face the girl.

"You alright, kid?" His voice was tight.

"Uh, yeah," a shaky breath. "I think so?"

As soon as his back was to her, Willow shuffled over to the dead soldier. Her fingers fumbled at the laces of his boots, yanking them free from his feet. They were far too big for her, but they were dry and warm when she slipped her toes inside. She was lacing them as tightly as possible when the stranger turned back to her.

His gaze raked over her once, then he shook his head sharply, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look, we don't exactly have time for introductions here." He wasn't quite meeting her eyes. "I suggest you turn around and get back through that wall. This place'll be crawling with soldiers in a minute."

This would be an ideal time for her to say something. Come on mouth, make words. She willed her jaw to unlock, uttering the only thing she could think of.

"I'm n- not going back."

Now he did look at her, eyes sharp with suspicion.

"The hell you ain't. I'm not smugglin' two girls out of here for the price of one. There's infected out there, and worse."

He was smuggling a child? What kind of sick fuck must he be? Once again, the protective instinct rose inside her. She wanted to put herself between this man and the girl at his side.

"I'm not scared of infected." She blurted. A blatant lie. He raised a brow in obvious doubt. "I'll turn before I go back."

That gave him pause. A muscle by his eye tightened as he regarded her.

"You just remember you said that."