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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 chocolate brown hair spilling like ink. Her green eyes—light, pale, and haunting—met his. That man's eyes. "Your hands are shaking. Bad dream again?"

With a sluggish effort, Joel forced his head to shake, the motion stiff and reluctant. His breath hitched, uneven, as he struggled to pull air into his lungs. His calloused fingers trembled, the faint shudder spreading up his arms, so he clenched them into fists, knuckles taut and white. "It's nothin'," he muttered, his voice rough, fraying at the edges.

Hope's brows knitted together as she reached out, her small fingers wrapping around his, her touch warm against his clammy skin. She squeezed firmly as if willing the tremors to still. "But your hands are shaking, I can see it," she murmured. Her thumb traced over his knuckles in slow, soothing circles. "You were having a bad dream, weren't you?"

"No."

Hope didn't let up, though. "Come on, Joel. Tell me. Was it the bandits? Or maybe those infected freaks?"

"No."

Hope's green eyes narrowed to slits, darting toward his right shoulder, still swollen beneath the thick, bloodied bandages. Her lips pressed into a thin line. That same shoulder had taken a bullet just three days ago. She shifted closer, her fingers twitching as if already reaching for the wound. "Is it your shoulder? Let me see it. We don't want it to get worse."

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "It's fine." His brow furrowed as he wrapped his arms around her small frame, pulling her against him like a human shield against the cold. His muscles coiled tight, bracing against the dull throb that spiked into something sharper when he moved. His jaw clenched, and for a split second, pain flickered across his face before he buried it beneath a practiced scowl. "I'm alright."

"You always say that." Hope huffed, her breath warm against his chest before she suddenly lunged for the hefty, dark backpack beside them. The motion was quick, determined—desperate. Her fingers barely brushed the weather-worn fabric when Joel's hand shot out, gripping her wrist mid-reach. His hold was firm, his rough palm radiating heat against her chilled skin.

"We gotta save what we got left," he said, but the flicker of pain in his eyes betrayed him. "Just get some sleep."

"I can't." Hope's nose scrunched, her brows knitting together. She didn't pull away from his grasp. "It's too cold to sleep." The shadows under her eyes made her look smaller, wearier.

Joel cleared his throat, loosening his grip before resting his hand on his knee. "This blizzard'll blow by tomorrow," he muttered, shifting just enough to ease the ache in his shoulder. "We'll be back on the road before you know it."

"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 wrinkled her nose, inhaling deeply as if trying to steady something restless inside her. Her shoulders lifted, then sank with a slow, measured exhale. "Okay, okay." She burrowed deeper into the cocoon of blankets, her fingers curling into the fabric before sliding around his chest in a snug embrace. Her arms, small but firm, tightened for a fleeting moment—like she was trying to hold onto something slipping through her grasp. "Goodnight," she murmured.

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.

"Jeez," Hope muttered, her voice breaking the stillness as she glanced nervously around the room, her eyes flicking from the dark corners to the creaking walls. "Sounds like the whole place is gonna fly away."

"It won't."

"So where are we goin' after St. Paul? Are we almost at the state line?"

"We're going to another part of Minnesota. We're just in St. Paul. Then we're back on the road again."

"We should go south," Hope grumbled, her nose wrinkling as if she could feel the cold settling deeper into her bones. "No more freezing my butt off. No more stupid snow."

"We still have a long way to go," Joel replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hope huffed, the little impatient sound she always made when she wasn't satisfied with an answer. "Well, wherever we end up, I just hope the next place is way better." She leaned forward. "Oh! I saw the biggest rat today! Like, huge! It ran right past my foot when I was—" Her voice trailed off as she stopped.

A pause.

"…Not sliding down the escalators."

Joel was silent.

Hope shifted, then rolled onto her back with a dramatic grunt. "Alright, fine, I was sliding. But I was super careful! And look—" She held up a fistful of socks and gloves, her hands almost too full to grip them properly. "Extra socks. And gloves. So, technically, you should be thanking me."

"I told you no more sliding," Joel said, his voice rough as he pushed himself up a little. "You were supposed to be in the closet while I was out. This place ain't safe."

Hope's lips twisted briefly before a grin flashed across her face. She waved her hand in the air, the motion too casual to be taken seriously. "I was fast. In and out, like a shadow," she said, flicking her wrist dismissively. "Had to check out the stores, okay? We needed winter gear." She curled her nose, holding up her gloves with mock disgust. "But ugh—bugs everywhere! Roaches, lice, even ladybugs. But like, gross ladybugs. You know, the ones that squish when you step on them?" She shuddered with exaggerated drama, her shoulders drawing up, before shooting him a glance. "Next place better not be like this."

"We'll stay wherever we can find, Hope," Joel replied, his low voice sharpened slightly. "Try to get some sleep."

"I just said I'm too cold to sleep," Hope muttered, shifting her position as she tugged the blanket tighter around herself, her fingers brushing over the rough fabric in an attempt to find warmth. "And what about you?" She glanced at Joel from the corner of her eye, not waiting for a response before rolling her shoulders in a half-hearted stretch.

"I'll take watch." Joel replied.

"No way! You can't stay on watch forever, Joel! It's my turn!" Hope shot up from her slouched position, her back stiff as a board, as if the very act of sitting upright could ward off the exhaustion that had settled in her limbs. Her knees jutted out, and her tiny hands planted on her thighs, her fingers digging into the fabric of her pants as if bracing herself for a race. "You sleep. I'm wide awake!"

Joel's hands, still stiff and trembling, made a slow attempt to peel the blanket off his body. His fingers caught on the thick fabric, but as he pushed it away, a wave of dizziness swept over him, like a punch to the gut. His head spun, and the room seemed to tilt at an impossible angle. He gripped the edge of the blanket tighter, clinging to it like a lifeline, but the sudden pressure in his skull left him frozen for a moment longer.

Hope's eyes narrowed. "See? You're dizzy," she said, her grin popping like a bright flash in the darkness. Her dimples cut into her cheeks and her eyes twinkled. She reached out with her small hand, resting it gently on his arm as if to steady him. "The blizzard'll blow over soon. We'll be back on the road. Just like you said."