Fall 2034
The November sky was drenched with a steady snowfall down on the evening of November 25th. The sleeping community of Jackson was surrounded by the vastness of nature. In the distance the green mountains reached out to the heavens, The peaks shrouded in mist. The air was frigid and the wind was blowing, rustling the leaves of the trees nearby.
Upon completing an extensive patrolling shift, Joel returned back to the house, enduring the chilling gusts of the breeze. As the midnight descended upon the community, he threaded deeper into the confines of his brand new house.
Unable to continue hunting any longer, Joel had decided to go back to the shelter to put away his rations of ten rabbits he managed to kill. He had half expected to hear Ellie come running downstairs from the guest room to greet him, but instead he came home to darkness and uncharacteristic silence.
Strange, why weren't the lights turned on?
He groped his way through the pitch-black darkness, his fingers searching for the nearest light switch. When he finally found it, he flicked it on, but nothing happened.
What's going on? The lights were working perfectly fine this morning. Could there be a shortage in the generator?
"Ellie, baby girl, are you home? Are you awake?"
Silence.
"Ellie?"
Silence.
He found an oil lamp on a nearby desk and lit it, carrying it with him as he stepped further into the large two-story house. Though it has been his and Ellie's forever home for the past two months, Joel had never felt more like a visitor than a resident.
For a time, Joel wandered through the darkness, one hand tight on the lamp and the other cautiously close to his pistol just in case. He trailed towards the staircase that led to the attic and realized the floor was rather sticky. Alarmed, he shone some light on the wooden floor, only to drop the lamp in horror when he saw that he was standing in.
Blood.
Joel lifted his lamp and discovered a trailing splatter of scarlet blood leading the staircase that led to the attic. Ellie's bedroom.
The sight of the fresh blood pooling on the floor instilled a staggering level of fear into him. "God no... oh my God…"
Thousands of horrifying scenarios jumbled through his mind. Have the Fireflies found them? Did someone break in and attack her? Did she have an accident and injure herself?
"E..Ellie? Ellie!"
He bit back a bloodcurdling scream the moment he pushed the attic door open. The oil lamp rolled on the ground, only to stop abruptly when it hit something — someone.
Suddenly, a sharp incoherent buzz hummed in her ears. His world tilted as every deadly emotion he harbored chased after each other in her veins. Dread, it seemed, was the more prominent one. Joel felt as though someone had pushed his soul out of his body. He had no semblance of what was happening around him, nor what was going on in her body.
He was a machine, focused on just one thing, and one thing only:
Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.
Is that…
Joel took in everything in one frightened glance; an lifeless Ellie in a pool of blood, sprawled on the wooden floor of the spacious bedroom.
"Ah… ah…" Joel hyperventilated, unable to process what was happening. The world seemed to blur and shift around him. He couldn't speak, he couldn't think, he couldn't even breathe. His gaze shifted from her surrogate daughter's blood on his hands to her white pale face.
Her forest green eyes that once danced with light are now dim. Her once fair complexion was now blanched as snow. The mouth that was so quick to smile in life lied stiff and agape.
No…
"Ellie!" Joel grabbed onto her shoulders and urged her to wake up, but Ellie didn't move. "Ellie?!"
She isn't moving. Oh, God… Ellie isn't moving—She is losing too much blood..
His vision blurred with sudden tears as Joel struggled to breathe. He took an inventory look at her, searching for any reason.
Stab wounds. Bullet wounds. An injury. Anything. But no. She had no wounds or injuries.
Nothing.
All there was copious amounts of blood coming out of her. She had simply bled out.
No. No. No.
Everything went blank as he rushed to the body, picking her up. She felt so light. In the dark, Joel sat and rocked in the pool of blood, tears pouring down his cheeks, shivering from the agonizing pain as he cradled the dead body to his chest tightly. He tried to feel for a heartbeat, but there was none. Just his, and his alone, and they were all reminders of his failure. He could not save her. Even after saving her from the Fireflies, he still lost her in the end. Even before that, he failed to save her. And that he could not accept.
Joel begged for her to wake up.
Ellie never did.
She was long gone from this world.
But Ellie should not be dead.
There was no reason for this.
This morning Ellie was healthy, happy, and full of energy.
She had been on cloud nine since they began to live in Jackson.
She had been so delighted upon finding an extensive assortment of vintage comics and novels in the spacious attic that seemed to belong to a previous occupant. The living area featured a large pink bed and shelves upon shelves of literature - a variety of novels and comics, each with its unique storyline and characters. Ellie was so excited and couldn't wait to explore the attic's treasures, letting herself get lost in the pages of the books and comics. Joel remembered how she kept begging to do nothing more than relax in the room, just indulging in all the comics and books to her heart's content. So once Joel realized they were running low on food, he decided to go hunting alone for the rest of the evening, leaving Ellie to indulge herself on her new favorite comic series. "The Chronicles of Hope Jubilation."
Joel knew there was no need to worry; they had long lost the Fireflies since they fled. This house that they had resided in was secure, and the community was free of any bandits or infecteds. There was no reason to fear; nothing terrible could have happened, and nothing terrible should have happened.
So why did it…?
As he sat on the floor in a pool of blood for what felt like an agonizing eternity, holding onto the body of the second daughter he failed to protect, this is a dream that Joel kept repeating to himself until he fell into the echo chamber of denial.
"Ah…"
No…
.
.
.
With a strangled groan, Joel shuddered awake, his eyes struggling to adjust to the pitch-black darkness that enveloped him. The frigid cold air was so intense that it seemed to wrap around him, suffocating him in its unyielding embrace. He could barely make out the outlines of the objects around him, and the void seemed to stretch on endlessly, like a bottomless abyss. The silence was broken only by the sound of his own breathing, which echoed hauntingly in the emptiness of the space. Beads of cold sweat dripped down his throbbing forehead, and his heart was hammering in his chest.
His mind raced, trying to make sense of why he couldn't move. Was he dreaming? Sleep paralysis? Or was there something more sinister at play? The fear of the unknown gripped him, and he couldn't shake it off. He remained paralyzed, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
"Mmh…"
Gradually, he became aware of his back being pressed up against a sturdy stone wall and the thick blanket that completely encased him. Something wiggled in his chest then. His two arms were entangled by something tiny and soft entwined both of his arms.
"…Joel?" came a quiet whisper into the darkness.
In his dazed state, Joel recognized the voice. "Hope…?"
His eyes opened, and the world was shifting blur slowly coming into focus.
That was when Joel remembered that he and Hope were huddled up inside a tiny, cramped closet inside this abandoned, dilapidated Rosedale Center in Roseville due to the brutal snowstorm outside. The closet was small and cramped, barely enough space for both of them to sit comfortably. The walls are lined with old, peeling wallpaper, and the air is musty with the scent of dust and decay. Shelves on one side are cluttered with forgotten items—rusty tools, empty cans, and tattered books. The floor was cold and hard, covered in a thin layer of grime. A single, dim flashlight casted long shadows, making the space feel even more confined.
"Joel?" Hope mumbled sleepily. She shifted slightly in the darkness as Joel looked down at her. A little girl who had just turned nine cocooned in the thick, long blanket rested in his arms, head settled on his chest. She peered up at him. Her vivid red hair shone faintly in the darkness and her green eyes were light and pale. That man's eyes. "You alright?"
With enough effort, Joel managed to shake his head. He tried his best to steady his breathing. His calloused fingers started shuddering and he clenched them together. "It's nothin,"
"But your hands are shaking," Hope clasped his hand, her fingers warm against his cold, clammy skin. "You had a nightmare?"
"No."
She wasn't convinced at all. "Was it about the bandits or the infected?''
"No."
Her green eyes narrowed to slits, flicking to his right shoulder, still swollen beneath the thick, bloodied bandages. It was the same shoulder that had taken a bullet just three days ago. "How's your shoulder, Joel? Does it still hurt?"
"It's fine," Joel shook his head as he coiled his arms around her small form. But he gave a little wince as he did so.
"It's not fine if it gets infected. You gotta take it easy," With that, Hope lunged for the hefty, dark backpack lying beside them, its contents the last remnants of their remaining medical supplies. Just as her fingers brushed the worn fabric, Joel's hand shot out, halting her in mid-reach.
"We gotta save what we got left. I'm fine," he insisted, though a flicker of pain crossed his eyes. "You need to sleep."
"Sleep? In this icebox? No way." Hope stated.
Joel cleared his throat to regain his composure. "This blizzard will blow by tomorrow and we'll be back on the road."
"You said that yesterday, Joel."
"It'll stop soon."
"And you said that last time too!"
"It'll stop." Joel insisted. "Just get some sleep."
Hope crinkled her nose before releasing a deep sigh. "Alright, alright," She pressed herself even closer to the snug bundle of blankets that encased them, twirling her little arms around his chest. "Night."
There was a dull silence that stretched for what felt like an eternity before the howling chorus of the sharp wind outside howled through the abandoned building, rattling glass and slamming loose boards. Dust swirled in the air, and cold air seeped through the closet door, making the small space feel even more confined and frigid.
"It's really loud out there," Hope remarked. "Feels like the whole place is gonna blow away."
"It won't. We'll be back on the road again."
"Good. This place is a dump," Hope exclaimed. "I saw two gigantic rats when I was sliding down the escalators!"
"I thought I told you no more sliding. You were supposed to be in the closet while I'm out," Joel reprimanded. "This place ain't safe."
Hope's face scrunched up in a frown for a split second before she recovered with a small grin. "I get it, but trust me, I was super careful," she said, brushing off any concern. "I just had to check out those clothing stores to see if there were any winter clothes worth grabbing. Didn't find much, though. Everything was crawling with bugs—roaches, lice, even ladybugs. Ugh, so gross," she added with an exaggerated shudder. "But hey, the next mall we hit will be a jackpot, I know it!"
"We'll stay wherever we can find, Hope." Joel replied, his low voice sharpened slightly. "Try to get some sleep."
"What about you?"
"I'll take watch." Joel replied.
"No way! You can't stay on watch forever, Joel! It's my turn!'' Hope bounded up ramrod straight in a rigid sitting position. "You sleep. I'm wide awake!"
"I'm fine, really." He then tried to pull off the blanket on him, but a heavy bout of lightheadedness held him back.
"See, I told you," Hope suddenly slithered out of the makeshift fort, stretching like a cat as she rose. "I'm taking watch. You get sleep."
"See, you're dizzy," She broke into a small grin, her dimples playing below her twinkling eyes. "The blizzard will blow over, and we'll be back on the road. Just like you said."