《Duct Tape and Dreams - Last of us OC Isekai》


 Chapter 1: Opportunitys

    The midday sun shone brightly over Cleveland, Ohio, not a cloud in sight for miles. The cracked pavement streets, overrun with rusted vehicles and rubble from destroyed buildings, were slowly but surely being overtaken by nature. Weeds and trees pushed through the cracks, and vines and moss crept up the sides of the abandoned structures.


    Traversing this ruined city was a young boy, a happy grin plastered on his face. His entire being radiated a joy that seemed completely at odds with the destruction around him. He found beauty in everything¡ªthe glint of sunlight off broken glass, the smell of mossy concrete, even the eerie silence. The occasional skeleton haunting his path didn¡¯t dim his spirits for a second.


    In fact, he was in such a good mood from the beautiful day that he began to sing his favorite rock song:


    "Take me down to the Paradise City


    Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty!"


    The boy, around fourteen or fifteen, had messy brown hair and deep, chocolate-brown eyes that shone with happiness¡ªan emotion that seemed out of place in this world. He was skinny, with stained, slightly torn clothes clinging to his frame. Armor made from duct-taped cardboard and magazines wrapped around his forearms and shoulders, offering at least a little defense against any infected that might try to bite him. Though, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn¡¯t too confident about how well it would hold up¡ªit was a recent, untested DIY project, after all.


    ¡°Just an urchin living under the street!


    I''m a hard case that¡¯s tough to beat


    I''m your charity case, so buy me somethin¡¯ to eat!¡±


    As he sang, he practically skipped into a nearby utility store, scanning the shelves for anything useful. In this post-apocalyptic world, even the most mundane pre-outbreak items could mean the difference between life and death. Just the other day, he¡¯d scavenged some duct tape, which he used to make a makeshift spear with a couple of kitchen knife blades fastened to a cool stick he¡¯d found. The ramshackle spear now rested haphazardly over his shoulder as he walked through the warehouse-like store, still singing without a care. But if you looked closely, you¡¯d see his eyes flicking sharply to every shadow, his ears tuned to every creak¡ªa practiced awareness beneath the carefree exterior.


    The store was practically picked clean. Only the occasional item remained on the shelves, but nothing of real use¡ªgardening tools that couldn¡¯t double as weapons, cleaning supplies, grills, and rusted lawnmowers. He had hoped to find a bike, but they were either rusted to hell or missing their wheels.


    As he wandered deeper into the store, his singing grew louder, more dramatic. Near the end of the song, he closed his eyes and started air-guitaring.


    "I wanna see how gooood it can beEEeEee!" he wailed in a horribly off-key voice. "Oh, oh, take me hoooommmmeee!"


    He stopped singing just to jump around, making ridiculous guitar sounds with his mouth as he strummed imaginary strings, picturing himself on a stage, performing for a massive crowd.


    His voice echoed through the empty store as he spun and leapt, completely uninhibited. But on his final jump, he tripped over a rotten box and crashed into a metal shelf.


    "Crap!"


    Old cardboard boxes tumbled down, showering him in dust and debris. He covered his head with his arms, coughing as dust clogged his throat. Something particularly heavy slammed into his back, making him grunt, but he kept his head protected until the cascade finally ended.


    When the last of the junk settled, he pushed it all off and opened his eyes¡ªonly to see a rotted, emaciated corpse sprawled on top of him.


    He yelped, shoving the body away as he scrambled to his feet, heart pounding in his chest. His eyes darted around, scanning for any infected, but the store remained silent. After a few tense moments, he let out a shaky breath, his pulse slowing.


    "What the hell were you doing up there, my friend?" he muttered, staring at the body. The man looked to be in his thirties¡ªhard to tell, really, with how far gone he was. The skin was rotted, stretched thin over a malnourished frame, and patches of hair clung stubbornly to his scalp.


    That¡¯s when the boy spotted it¡ªa backpack slung over the corpse¡¯s shoulders.


    "Score!" he grinned, quickly crouching to pry the backpack free. It was gross, sure, but he¡¯d dealt with worse. He grimaced through the task, the decomposing skin sticking to the straps.


    "Blegh," he muttered, making a face as he finally tugged it free. But his frown quickly flipped back into a grin when he felt something shift inside the bag.


    After a quick sweep of the corpse to make sure there was nothing else of value, he moved a couple aisles over and plopped onto one of the shelves, eager to inspect his find.


    The backpack was in decent condition, save for a small hole near the top. Basic, with two large compartments and a couple of smaller pockets, but it was still a great find¡ªhe hadn¡¯t managed to get his hands on a proper pack until now.


    Unzipping the bag, he found a flashlight with no batteries, an empty water canteen, a box of old matches, and a map of the city. His grin widened in satisfaction and he used his gift to store everything away.


    8/10 slots


    He never got tired of that. Watching things just... disappear into thin air was still the coolest part of this whole system.


    His grin only grew wider as he unfolded the map, the creases worn but still legible. It was a detailed layout of Cleveland and the surrounding areas, but what really caught his attention were the pen markings scattered across it.


    There were sections marked ¡°LOOTED¡±, others with quick notes like ¡°people spotted here¡±, and one area to the south circled in bold red ink with the word ¡°RAIDERS¡± scrawled beside it. But the marking that really made his eyes light up was a large red skull drawn over one of the biggest hospitals in the city. Above it, in shaky handwriting, was written:


    ¡°Avoid at ALL COSTS!¡±


    The boy chuckled under his breath, tilting his head at the map. ¡°Interesting¡­¡± he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eye.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    After pocketing the map, he gave the rest of the store a once-over but found nothing useful¡ªjust some large tarps, which he stuffed into his new backpack. With the sun starting to dip lower, he figured it was time to head back to his camp.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    As he stepped outside, he spotted a wall covered in cordyceps. The fungus clung thick to the bricks, its tendrils weaving into every crack and crevice. He vaguely remembered from the show that disturbing the fungus could alert infected nearby, thanks to that hive-mind thing.


    Better not to risk it, he thought, steering clear. After all, he wasn¡¯t sure if he was in the TV show canon or the video game canon¡ªmaybe even a weird mix of both. But he was leaning toward the game version, especially after seeing those warning signs around the city about airborne spores. That had freaked him out at first, until he realized that if the spores in the air were dense enough to infect you they were pretty easy to spot. Still, he¡¯d missed out on some good looting because of them.


    Shaking off the thought, he focused on the present. It was getting late, and he had no intention of wandering after dark.


    The fading sunlight painted the city in gold and crimson, casting long shadows across the streets. Despite the destruction, the boy couldn¡¯t help but admire the beauty of it all. Shattered windows reflected the warm glow, and the greenery reclaiming the buildings looked almost peaceful in the dying light. He decided not to hum on his way back, instead letting the silence settle around him.


    Eventually, he reached his building¡ªone of the last intact skyscrapers in Cleveland, flanked by a shorter structure. Circling around the smaller building, he spotted the ladder he¡¯d used earlier and climbed up quickly. Once at the top, he grabbed a rope attached to the ladder¡¯s bottom rung and pulled, retracting it into itself. He tied the rope to a nearby pipe and gave it a few sharp tugs to make sure it was secure.


    Satisfied, he walked over to the edge of the roof, where a thick wooden board connected the rooftop to a broken window in the skyscraper. The makeshift bridge was wobbly but reliable.


    Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the plank, glancing down at the alley below. The surge of adrenaline made him chuckle under his breath. Never gets old, he thought as he crossed.


    Once inside the building, he navigated the empty office space with ease. He¡¯d cleared these floors weeks ago, and while the lower levels still teemed with infected, he trusted his blockades to keep them out. He¡¯d barricaded both the main staircase and the emergency stairwell with heavy furniture and debris, sealing off the danger below.


    Leaving the office, he entered a dim hallway, the flickering light from the broken windows casting eerie shadows. At the end of the hall, the open elevator shaft gaped like a mouth, a dark void stretching deep into the building¡¯s bowels.


    He approached the edge and peered into the blackness, a shiver running down his spine. The faint, distant moans of infected echoed from far below, but he trusted his barricades enough to feel safe¡ªfor now.


    To his right, the ladder leading up the shaft caught his eye. He¡¯d been meaning to cut it off below this floor to prevent anyone from climbing up, but he hadn¡¯t figured out the best way to do it yet. With a shrug, he grabbed the rungs and began his ascent.


    The climb was easy with his light frame, and after a few minutes, he pulled himself onto the top floor.


    Before doing anything else, he made sure to block off the elevator shaft. He wedged a large wooden board across the opening, then pressed it in place with a heavy desk. To be safe, he stacked a few more pieces of furniture, ensuring it was as secure as possible.


    Finally, he let his guard drop


    The top floor was half-collapsed, with a large gaping hole on one side of the wall, with the ceiling being collapsed right above it. But the boy didn¡¯t mind. The fresh air and cool breeze felt good after a long day of scavenging. He figured if winter came, he¡¯d move to a lower, more secure floor¡ªbut for now, this was home.


    His camp was tucked under the remaining roofed section. A sleeping bag lay nestled among his belongings: a small campfire built on concrete slabs, a cooking pot suspended above it, and a tent stashed in the corner just in case. Nearby, a small stash of food, water, weapons, and tools was haphazardly piled up. In the corner, leaning against a wall, were several bike parts-a little project of his.


    Against the wall stood a cabinet filled with spare clothes and a growing collection of comic books scavenged from around the city. A painting he¡¯d found in surprisingly good condition added a bit of color to the otherwise gray space. And, of course, the potted plant by the window¡ªthe only other living thing up here with him.


    Looking around, he felt a deep satisfaction. It had taken a while to set all this up, but it was finally starting to feel like something safe, something comfortable.


    The sun had set by now, but the full moon lit up the city, casting everything in a soft, silver glow. As the boy moved inside, his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn¡¯t eaten since morning.


    With a grin, he decided to treat himself. After all, today had been a good day.


    He plopped down beside his makeshift fire pit, pulling up his gift with a thought.


    Survival system


    Currency: 5


    Store:


    Consumables


    Medical


    Weapons/Tools


    Vehicles


    Misc.


    Favorited Items¡î


    Inventory 8/10:


    Medical kit - 2


    Hunting knife - 1


    Soup - 1


    Water bottle - 1


    Matches - 1


    Flashlight - 1


    Water canteen - 1


    He still wasn¡¯t sure what god or cosmic entity had dumped him into this world, but hey, at least whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªhadn¡¯t left him completely helpless. The system was his lifeline. With it, he could purchase supplies using an in-game currency.


    So far, the only way he¡¯d found to earn points was by killing infected. Runners gave him one point each, while Clickers were worth three. He¡¯d managed to take one of those bastards down¡ªbarely. Not something I want to attempt again, he thought, chuckling at the memory. He¡¯d only survived because he managed to shove a knife up under the Clicker¡¯s chin just before it could bite him.


    The inventory slots were another perk. Ten spaces, each about a cubic foot. If an item was bigger¡ªeven by a centimeter¡ªit took up two slots. Annoying, but manageable. He¡¯d learned to be selective. Even something as small as a box of matches took up a full slot, which meant no room for hoarding junk.


    So far, he¡¯d only bought the medical kit and some food from the store. The med kit had cost him five points, and the canned food was one point for three cans. Food was his main priority, though. Water was easier to come by with Lake Erie just a ten-minute walk from his camp. He¡¯d fill up a few containers, carry them back, and boil the water in the mornings before heading out to scavenge.


    But food? Food was getting scarce. Lately, he hadn¡¯t found anything. If he didn¡¯t start hunting infected for points soon, he¡¯d run out of supplies. But thanks to the map he found earlier, he had an idea of where he could stock up-The hospital. He planned on heading there tomorrow. Any place people avoided had to have something good hidden inside¡­ right?


    It was video game logic, sure, but considering this world was based on a game, he figured his reasoning would hold up.


    He shook his head, pushing those worries aside. Those are tomorrow¡¯s problems. Tonight was for celebration. If he was planning to risk his life tomorrow, he might as well splurge on a good meal tonight. After all, what was life if you didn¡¯t enjoy it?


    Nothing worth living, he thought with a giddy smile.


    He navigated to the Consumables tab in his system, scrolling through the options. There were categories for canned food, meat, vegetables, hot meals, etc. His eyes lit up as he selected the Hot Food section.


    A menu popped up with options that made his stomach growl louder. He grinned and picked a piping hot Italian sub for three currency. Another screen popped up asking if he wanted to add sides and toppings for an extra point.


    Hell yeah.


    He loaded the sub with everything¡ªlettuce, mayo, oil, vinegar, black olives, and a mountain of pickles. For the side, he chose fries with a cup of ketchup.


    Currency: 1


    His currency was dangerously low, but the food that materialized in front of him made any lingering regret disappear. On his lap was a foil-wrapped sub and a box of crispy fries, the smell alone making his mouth water.


    He unwrapped the sandwich and took a massive bite, groaning out loud in pure satisfaction. It had been over a year since he¡¯d had anything but scraps and canned food, and this¡­ this was heaven.


    He devoured the sub in record time, licking his fingers clean before finishing off the fries. His stomach felt like it might burst, but he didn¡¯t care. A feeling of satisfaction filled him that he hasn¡¯t felt since arriving in this world.


    Leaning back, he let the feeling wash over him for a few moments before standing up and walking to the open section of the floor. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the empty wrappers out of the building, watching them flutter down like leaves.


    He¡¯d been in this reality for about a year now.


    When he first woke up, he was alone in the woods, nearly starving before he discovered the system. Luckily, he¡¯d been gifted with ten points. That had been enough to buy some food and keep him alive just long enough to figure things out.


    For the first ten months, he barely survived in the wilderness, living off nuts, berries, and the occasional can of food from the store. Eventually, he realized he couldn¡¯t stay out there forever. The city was dangerous, but it offered more resources¡ªand more opportunities to fight infected for currency. When he came here he didn¡¯t have anything, a sharpened stick being his most effective weapon.


    Now, he was stronger, smarter. He could take down infected with a bit of preparation, and that meant he could eat more regularly too. Plus, looting the bodies of unlucky survivors had become surprisingly fruitful.


    Shaking off the memories, he focused on the view in front of him.


    He sat down on the edge of the building, his legs dangling over the side as he stared out at the city bathed in the light of the full moon.


    From here, he could see Lake Erie perfectly, its surface shimmering in the moon¡¯s reflection. The docks of the west basin jutted out into the water, dark silhouettes against the glowing lake. It was moments like this that reminded him why he loved this world more than the one he left behind.


    In his old world he had been sick all his life, practically bedridden since birth. His life had been pain and misery, but now he was gifted with a new body. A body that could walk! And run! And cartwheel and do flips!


    Well¡­ ok, he can''t do a flip but he could learn!


    He could do whatever he wanted, be whoever he wanted! There were so many possibilities! He could travel the world, see things he never could before, meet all kinds of interesting people! He knew this world was far from a paradise, but to James Calen, this world represented¡­


    Freedom

 Chapter 2: The Hospital

    James woke up bright and early, the morning sun spilling into his home, signaling that it was time to move. With a groan, he pushed himself out of his sleeping bag, still not quite used to the rough ground. After a long stretch, he wolfed down a bit of canned food, mentally preparing for the long day ahead.


    His usual morning water and bathing run to the lake was skipped¡ªhe needed all the daylight he could get. Speaking of water, he removed the water bottle and matches from his inventory to free up some space. Then, he took out the empty canteen he¡¯d found on the corpse and cleaned it with an alcohol wipe from the medkit. Getting sick now would be a disaster.


    Once the canteen was filled and safely stored back in his inventory, he started putting on his cardboard and magazine ¡°armor.¡± He knew it looked ridiculous, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel badass wearing it. Something about it made him feel like a knight from the Middle Ages. Now all I need is a princess to save, he thought with a quiet giggle.


    With his armor secured, he grabbed his spear and climbed up to the roof to do some scouting. He had rigged a rope system a while ago, making it easy to reach the top.


    Once on the roof, he pulled out his map, scanning for the hospital¡¯s location. With the bird¡¯s-eye view from his vantage point, he estimated his destination was roughly four or five miles away¡ªa one to two-hour walk through the city. Maybe longer, considering he¡¯d have to avoid areas where he¡¯d seen people scouting.


    Over the past two months, since he¡¯d made his way into the city, he had occasionally spotted survivors moving through Cleveland. But for the most part, the city was a ghost town. Even the old quarantine zone was abandoned. From the roof, he could see the remnants of the military zone, though he had already searched it thoroughly. The place was completely stripped clean, with nothing of value left.


    It was clear that something huge had gone down here¡ªlikely something similar to Pittsburgh, where civilians had rebelled against FEDRA. The signs were everywhere: crucified and strung-up soldiers, severed heads on pikes, anti-FEDRA graffiti. It was a grim sight, and James had no interest in ever going back.


    What confused him, though, was what had happened to the rebels. If they had taken over the city, where had they gone? Now, all that remained were drifters and small survivor groups, easy enough to avoid. Even the raiders from down south seemed to have moved on¡ªhe hadn¡¯t seen a single sign of them since arriving.


    Shaking off the thoughts, he decided it was time to move. He climbed back down from the roof, adjusted his gear, and set off into the city.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    With the sun warming his back, James made good time on his journey. An hour had passed since he set out, and he now walked down a quiet, overgrown road, humming a tune. A bird flew by, its chirping bright against the stillness, and he couldn¡¯t help but smile. Even in a ruined world, nature thrived¡ªand that thought always made him feel a little lighter.


    A cold breeze swept through the air, making him shiver. He glanced around and realized the world was shifting into fall. Some of the leaves had already begun turning orange and red, the first signs of the season¡¯s change. He wondered what month it was¡ªSeptember, maybe? But he had no way of knowing for sure.


    Not that he even knew what year it was.


    Is it 2033? he mused. If it was, he wondered whether Ellie and Joel had started their journey to the Fireflies yet¡ªor if they¡¯d even met at all. Hell, maybe Joel had already massacred the Fireflies and was living in Jackson by now.


    Jackson¡­


    That was one of his long-term plans, to head there eventually. It was one of the few safe places he knew about, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure it stayed safe. He had never played the second game, but he knew bits and pieces about what happened. Joel would die. Ellie would go on a rampage.


    But what happened to Jackson in the end? He had no idea.


    James shrugged the thoughts away. No point worrying about things that weren¡¯t immediate concerns. What mattered now was mentally preparing for what he was about to do.


    For the eighth time, he considered whether this was a good idea.


    And for the eighth time, he came to the conclusion that no, it absolutely was not.


    He had no idea what lurked inside the hospital. No idea if there was even loot worth scavenging, or if the danger would far outweigh the reward. He could die. That was a very real possibility.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    But that¡¯s what made it exciting, he thought with a grin.


    Since coming to this world, he had realized two things about himself: He was a hedonist and an adrenaline junkie.


    He had spent his entire life stuck in a bed, confined to a cramped room, unable to experience anything beyond a screen. The most joy he ever had was playing video games on a crappy Xbox his grandpa bought him.


    His life had been short and sad, living to the young age of fourteen when he had passed away in his sleep.


    And then, he woke up here.


    The first time he had fought an infected, the rush was intoxicating. It was like going from zero to a hundred miles an hour in two seconds. His blood pumped faster, his mind sharpened¡ªhe felt lighter, happier, alive. That fire in his veins had burned ever since.


    It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t care if he lived or died¡ªhe very much wanted to live. But he had come to love walking the wire between life and death.


    That¡¯s not to say he didn¡¯t enjoy the peaceful moments¡ªhe really did. But¡ª


    His thoughts screeched to a halt.


    A voice.


    Someone was talking.


    Before his mind even fully processed what he had heard, his body moved on instinct, ducking into a nearby corner store. Crouching behind the register, he peeked over the top to get a view of the street.


    There, moving cautiously down the road, were three people.


    Two men. One woman.


    They didn¡¯t seem to have any guns, but you could never be too careful. One of the men held a machete, the other a hatchet. The woman carried a bow, her fingers lightly resting on the string, ready to pull back at any moment.


    They looked rough¡ªbut then again, everyone did nowadays. Their clothes were old and worn, their faces shadowed with exhaustion.


    James stayed perfectly still, watching.


    Waiting.


    And hoping they wouldn¡¯t see him.


    "I¡¯m telling you, I saw a deer here the other day," the woman said, her voice laced with frustration.


    "And we believe you," one of the men replied in a tone that very much suggested he did not.


    "I¡¯m not lying! I saw one!" she shot back, louder this time.


    "Shhh! Are you trying to bring down a group of Clickers on us?" the last member of the group hissed, shushing them both with a sharp glare. His irritation was evident as he muttered, "Honestly, it¡¯s a miracle you two have survived this long."


    The woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, let¡¯s just keep looking. We¡¯ll be eating venison tonight, baby," she said with an eager grin, rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain.


    Their voices faded as they moved down the street, their figures disappearing behind the ruined buildings.


    James watched them go, every instinct in his body begging him to move forward and talk to them. He hadn''t spoken to another human being in months, and the silence was starting to wear on him.


    He hesitated.


    It would be so easy to walk up to them, start a conversation, maybe even join them for a bit. But his logical side¡ªthe part of him that had kept him alive this long¡ªknew better.


    If they followed him and found out he was heading to the hospital, they might camp outside and wait for him to leave, ambushing him on his way home. He didn¡¯t think they looked like the raider type, but you could never really tell in this world.


    Still¡­ the loneliness was getting to him.


    James sighed, a rare frown tugging at his face. Even though he knows it¡¯s a bad idea to talk to them, he¡¯s also aware he can¡¯t take much more of this. Another week and he might even go up and talk to a group of raiders, not really but you get the point.


    Shaking off the feeling, he forced himself to keep moving.


    Forty-five minutes later, he finally caught sight of the hospital in the distance.


    The first thing he noticed was the broken-down military blockades. Concrete barriers had been set up as cover, and judging by the bullet holes riddling their surfaces, they had seen a lot of action.


    Destroyed military vehicles were scattered around the entrance, some stripped for parts, others left to rot where they had been abandoned. Corpses so decayed they were practically skeletons littered the ground, their brittle remains serving as grim reminders of whatever had happened here.


    Despite the morbid imagery, it was actually kind of cool.


    As James circled the building, scouting for entrances and escape routes, he let his imagination take over.


    He spotted a corpse slumped in the seat of an old military truck, perched right where a machine gun had clearly once been mounted.


    He imagined the man in his final moments, making some heroic last stand as raiders tried to break into the hospital. Maybe he stayed behind to buy time for the others to escape, firing relentlessly as bullets whizzed past him.


    James grinned childishly at the thought.


    Eventually, he finished his circuit of the building and arrived back at the front. No signs of life¡ªat least, none that he could see. That was good and bad. No survivors meant no one to fight over supplies with. But it also meant that if anyone had avoided this place for this long, it was probably for a damn good reason.


    He had spotted several entrances and exits, but none of them stood out as particularly safer than the others. If he was dealing with infected and not humans, it wouldn¡¯t matter where he entered from.


    Still, caution was key.


    James decided on a destroyed wall along the side of the building, slipping through the gap in the rubble as quietly as possible.


    The air inside was thick with dust, the scent of decay and mildew filling his nose. His steps were light, his entire body on high alert, every movement measured and deliberate. His hands tightened around his spear, ready to strike at anything that moved.


    Despite the tense atmosphere, his heartbeat wasn¡¯t just from nerves¡ªit was excitement.


    He could feel his smile growing.


    The hospital was eerily quiet.


    His first steps brought him into a long, shadowy hallway. The left led toward the main entrance, while the right stretched deeper into the building, where the unknown waited.


    James took a deep breath.


    And then, without hesitation, he stepped forward¡ªdelving into the bowels of a possible death trap.

 Chapter 3: Into the depths

    Light streamed in through the shattered windows, casting long, broken beams across the dust-covered floors of the ruined hospital. The sun¡¯s glow made it easier to navigate, but it also created stark shadows, making every darkened doorway and distant corridor feel like it was hiding something.


    James moved carefully.


    The halls were a minefield of debris¡ªbroken glass, fallen ceiling tiles, and scattered rubble from where the building had crumbled over time. He stepped lightly, doing his best to avoid loose trash and anything that might give away his position. The occasional abandoned hospital bed sat haphazardly in the middle of the corridors, rusted wheels frozen in place, some tipped over entirely. Old medical machines¡ªEKGs, IV stands, and defibrillators¡ªwere left gathering dust, their screens cracked and long since dead.


    And then there were the bodies.


    Some were skeletons, their clothing and flesh rotted away, while others were still half-preserved, leathery skin stretched tightly over brittle bones. Most of them bore no obvious injuries, as if they had simply laid down and died, leaving behind nothing but silent, lifeless remnants of what had happened here.


    James checked each corpse as he passed, searching pockets, bags, or anything that might hold something useful. So far, he hadn¡¯t found much¡ªjust a medical mask, though not one of those cheap paper ones from COVID days. This was a high-quality filtration mask, the kind that completely covered the mouth and nose, reinforced with built-in filters.


    James turned the mask over in his hands, eyeing it warily. It had come from a corpse, after all. No way was he strapping it to his face without thoroughly disinfecting it first. Still, he tucked it away¡ªif he ran into spores, this thing could save his life.


    As he rifled through another pocket, his fingers brushed against something brittle¡ªa folded note, tucked inside the remains of a nurse¡¯s scrub top.


    He carefully unfolded the paper, the ink faded but still legible.


    <hr>


    I don¡¯t understand.


    A woman collapsed in the waiting room. We thought it was a seizure¡ªuntil she bit into Henry¡¯s throat. He was screaming. We all were.


    Patients are attacking staff. They won¡¯t stay down. We tried to barricade the ER, but the doors won¡¯t hold. I can hear them breaking through.


    I was supposed to have dinner with Mom tomorrow.


    If someone finds this¡ªplease, tell her I love her. Tell her I tried.


    ¡ªKara


    <hr>


    James exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around the fragile paper.


    His gaze drifted back to the skeleton, still slumped against the wall where it had died decades ago.


    I hope you found peace, he thought.


    Folding the note carefully, he tucked it back into the pocket where he found it, as if leaving it undisturbed might somehow honor the person who wrote it.


    Shaking off the heavy feeling settling in his chest, he moved on, his footsteps nearly silent thanks to the extra socks he had layered over his shoes before coming here. The improvised soundproofing did its job, muffling his steps as he crept through the abandoned corridors, where only dust and echoes remained.


    Unfortunately, the trade-off was that his traction was shit. If he had to run, he¡¯d have to be extra careful not to slip on the dust-covered floors.


    The hospital was eerily quiet, so much so that the soft rhythm of his own breathing seemed almost too loud in the vast emptiness. He had already passed by several rooms, but nothing had caught his eye yet¡ªjust old examination rooms with rotting chairs, rusted surgical tools, and long-dried bloodstains on the counters.


    Then, just as he was passing a large set of double doors, a sound made him freeze.


    Rrrghhghhh¡­


    Aughhhhh¡­


    The moans of the infected.


    James immediately ducked down, his grip tightening on his spear as he turned his head toward the source of the sound.


    To his left, a metal sign hung above a doorway, the faded letters reading:


    ATRIUM


    The noises were coming from inside.


    James took a slow, deliberate breath, steadying himself as he moved silently toward the door. He pressed his shoulder against the frame and peeked through the narrow window.


    What he saw made his heart stop.


    The atrium was completely overrun, with spores dotting the air.


    A writhing mass of infected lay entangled in the thick, orange fungus that crept along the walls and floors like some grotesque disease. He counted at least fifty in this room alone¡ªmore than he had ever seen in one place before.


    Some were twitching, shifting slightly as if caught in some half-dreaming state, their chests rising and falling in unnatural, shallow breaths. Others were completely motionless, their bodies molded into the fungal growths, their skin indistinguishable from the spreading infection itself.


    They were connected.


    James could see it clearly now¡ªthe way the fungus pulsed, the way some of the infected twitched in response to slight movements within the mass. It was like a hive, all of them linked by the sprawling tendrils of cordyceps running through their bodies. The sight really hammered into his head the horror that this outbreak has wrought upon the world.


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    To the left of the atrium, a darkened hallway stretched downward, leading into the basement levels. The fungus was spilling out of the doorway, thick and overwhelming, as if it had completely consumed whatever was inside.


    James swallowed hard. He didn¡¯t need to see what was down there to know¡ª


    There were more.


    So many more.


    His forehead dampened with sweat as a mix of fear and adrenaline rushed through him.


    This must be why it was marked with a skull, he thought. Is¡­ is this what happened to the people in Cleveland? Why the city is so empty? Did the people get caught up in this and flee?


    Whatever had gone down in this hospital, it hadn¡¯t been quick. This wasn¡¯t just a massacre¡ªit was a breeding ground for the infection.


    His fingers twitched slightly on his spear.


    If he made a sound¡ªif he disturbed the growths¡ªhe was dead.


    James backed away from the door, breathing slow, controlled. He retraced his steps carefully, mind racing as he tried to recall the layout of the building.


    He had passed a map earlier. He needed to check it again.


    Navigating back to the wall-mounted map, he quickly located the atrium and followed the lines on the diagram, tracing the infested hallway downward.


    Sure enough, it led straight into the basement.


    Yeah. Hard pass on that.


    He made a mental note to stay far, far away from the center of the building. If the infected in the atrium were that bad, the basement was probably even worse. He wasn¡¯t stupid enough to find out.


    Taking another steadying breath, James turned away from the map.


    From what he knew, when the infected were dormant for long enough, they gathered like this and usually stayed put until their bodies fell apart. What this meant was the rest of the building should be clear, and as long as he avoided where the fungus piled up he should be clear to continue scavenging. James took a deep breath.


    Time to loot.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    James moved through the hospital, checking every storage area, surgery room, and supply closet he came across. Most of it was picked clean, but he still managed to scrounge up a few useful finds.


    A half-full bottle of isopropyl alcohol. Some sterile gauze, still sealed in its packaging. A couple of batteries¡ªnot many, but better than nothing.


    The deeper he went, the more cautious he became.


    He stuck only to the first floor, making sure not to get too close to the atrium. He didn¡¯t hear any infected wandering outside of that area, which was a good sign¡ªbut he also wasn¡¯t about to get reckless.


    As he rifled through a collapsed supply shelf, he paused, listening.


    Nothing.


    Just silence.


    James exhaled.


    So far, so good.


    As James moved deeper into the abandoned hospital, something caught his eye¡ªa barricaded room.


    It looked like a storage closet, its door blocked from the inside by a heavy shelf. That meant one thing: someone had locked themselves in.


    And that could mean supplies.


    James approached cautiously, pressing a hand against the door. It had some give, shifting slightly under the pressure. Not too strong. I can do this.


    He removed the socks from the outside of his shoes, bracing himself for better traction. With his shoulder against the wood, he lowered his center of gravity and pushed.


    Creeeaaak


    The barricade shifted, the sound echoing through the empty hallways like a gunshot. James froze, every muscle in his body locked in place, his breath caught in his throat.


    For a full minute, he stood there, listening.


    Nothing.


    Only the distant howl of the wind through shattered windows.


    Relaxing slightly, he resumed pushing¡ªslowly, carefully, stopping whenever the wood groaned or the shelf scraped across the floor. Bit by bit, he widened the gap, until there was just enough space to slip inside.


    Before entering, he dug into his bag, pulling out the flashlight he had scavenged earlier. He slid in two fresh batteries, flicked it on, and smiled as a strong beam illuminated the darkness.


    Satisfied, he stepped inside.


    The moment James entered, his nose wrinkled in disgust.


    The stench hit him like a wall¡ªrotting food, mildew, and human waste, all mixing together into something so foul it made his stomach turn.


    Jesus¡­ someone lived in here.


    He took a moment to survey the space.


    It was a small room, about the size of a bedroom, lined with dusty metal shelves. Old cardboard boxes were stacked haphazardly, their labels faded with age. Broken supplies were scattered across the floor¡ªmedical gloves, empty IV bags, old pill bottles with no labels.


    Then he saw the corpse.


    A grinning skull rested against the far wall, slumped in the corner like an abandoned doll.


    And that¡¯s when James saw it¡ª


    The uniform.


    James'' eyes lit up the moment he saw the faded green military fatigues. The bold white letters of FEDRA were still visible across the corpse''s chest, though time and decay had done their work.


    Jackpot!


    Holding his breath, he stepped closer, carefully maneuvering around the cluttered floor. The stench of rot and mildew was overwhelming, but he pushed past it. If this guy had been FEDRA, there was a good chance he had been armed and supplied¡ªmaybe even left behind something worth taking.


    And he was right.


    The first thing James noticed was the rifle strapped to the corpse''s chest.


    Hell yes!


    He unclipped the strap and pulled the rifle free, feeling the weight of it in his hands. It was old but intact, the metal cold against his skin. His fingers found the bolt, pulling it back to check the chamber.


    Empty.


    James let out a slow breath, his brief excitement dulling. A gun without ammo was just dead weight¡ªbut he still wasn''t leaving it behind. He had his system, after all.


    If he could earn more currency, he could buy the ammo he needed.


    It was useless now, but in the future? This could save his life.


    "Alright, you''re coming with me." He muttered under his breath.


    Slipping the rifle onto his back, he turned his attention to his second prize¡ªthe pistol still clutched in the dead man''s hand.


    James carefully pried it free, his gaze flicking to the corpse''s skull. A dark hole gaped in the forehead, the burn marks around the wound telling the story plain as day.


    Self-inflicted.


    Whether the guy had been bitten or just trapped with no way out, James didn''t know.


    Didn''t matter.


    The only thing that mattered was the magazine.


    He pressed the release and pulled it free, grinning when he saw the half-full stack of bullets inside.


    "Now we''re talking."


    He slid the mag back in, feeling a bit of security for the first time in months. It still wasn''t fully loaded, and he still needed to buy more ammo with his system, but now he had options. This was the first loaded gun he¡¯d ever held since coming to this world, and the pistol alone made this trip worth it.


    He quickly checked the belt pouches and found another pistol mag¡ªthis one completely full. He put the pistol and the extra mag in his inventory to free up his hands and kept looting the body.


    As he was searching the pockets he felt a rush of excitement when his fingers brushed against something metallic and heavy.


    He pulled it free¡ª


    And nearly laughed out loud.


    James stared at the F-1 grenade in his palm, his heart hammering in his chest.


    "Oh, holy shit." he whispered.


    This was better than gold.


    A grenade wasn¡¯t just a weapon¡ªit was an escape plan.


    Cornered? Throw it.


    Need a distraction? Pull the pin.


    Sure, it was dangerous as hell, but so was everything else in this world.


    His fingers brushed over the safety pin, checking to make sure it was secure. The last thing he needed was for this thing to go off in his hand.


    It looked good.


    Still grinning, he tucked the grenade safely into his inventory.


    "I¡¯m gonna have some fun with this."


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    He figured the rest of the corpse would be picked clean, but to his surprise, he actually found something useful¡ªone of those infection scanners FEDRA carried to test for bites.


    He didn¡¯t have much use for it right now, but it might come in handy later, so he stashed it in his backpack along with the rest of his loot.


    After giving the body one final search, he didn¡¯t find anything else of value, so he unbuckled the dead man¡¯s ballistic vest and strapped it on. It was a little stiff, but the extra protection was more than worth it.


    Finally, he grabbed the rifle, slinging the empty weapon over his back. It wasn¡¯t much without ammo, but with the system, he could always purchase more later¡ªmaking it worth the haul. Plus¡­ it looked really fucking cool.


    Feeling completely satisfied with his scavenging run, James decided to head back to camp and rest up.


    Maybe I''ll come back here sometime. Where there''s smoke, there''s fire, right? he thought, a small grin forming.


    Just as he was about to leave, something caught his eye.


    Below him, under the corpse, was a funky, writhing, orange substance¡­ which he was now stepping on. Unbidden, a quote from the TV show came to his mind:


    ¡®The fungus also grows underground. Long fibers like wires, some of them stretching over a mile. When you step on a patch of cordyceps in one place, then you can wake a dozen infected from somewhere else.¡¯


    ¡°Shit¡± He muttered.


    Screams erupted loudly from everywhere in the building.

 Chapter 4: Encounter

    The moment the infected screamed in unison, the sound reverberating through the hospital like a death knell, James felt his stomach drop.


    Panic surged through his veins.


    He shoved his flashlight back into his inventory, his fingers fumbling slightly as he turned and bolted out of the supply closet.


    As soon as he hit the hallway, he barely had time to react¡ªtwo infected rounded the corner, sprinting straight for him. Their movements were jerky and violent, their hands clawing at the air, their guttural shrieks sending a cold spike of fear through his chest.


    Fuck.


    His hands moved on instinct, yanking his pistol from his inventory as he pivoted hard in the opposite direction, boots skidding against the dust-covered linoleum.


    And then¡ªthe whole hospital seemed to come alive.


    From every hallway and open doorway, the infected poured out like a flood.


    To his left, a rotted infected with half its jaw missing stumbled out of a surgery room, its eyes locking onto him before snapping its body forward in a dead sprint.


    To his right, an infected doctor¡ªstill wearing a rotted lab coat¡ªlurched from an old nurse¡¯s station, its fingers scraping against the countertop as it turned its hollowed-out gaze toward him.


    Behind him, the stomping of feet grew louder¡ªmore infected joined the chase, their combined screams melding into a horrifying chorus.


    They started pouring from one set of double doors and suddenly fifty infected were in the hallway.


    James kept running, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. His breath came in ragged gasps, his legs burning as he pushed himself faster and faster, dodging around abandoned gurneys and overturned chairs.


    Then¡ªfrom the corner of his vision, something moved.


    A shadow lunged from the waiting room to his left.


    James barely had time to react before a Runner tackled him, its rotten hands gripping his hoodie, trying to pull him down.


    With pure desperation, he threw up his arm, his pistol already aiming at the infected¡¯s head.


    BANG!


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    The shot ripped through its skull, splattering blood across the walls as the body slumped onto him.


    James shoved it off, gasping, but the ringing in his ears nearly made him stumble.


    The gunshot had only made things worse.


    The infected, already agitated, were now frenzied¡ªtheir shrieks amplified, their speed doubling.


    Shit, shit, shit!


    James took off again, his vision blurring slightly from the adrenaline dump. He needed a way out. Now.


    His eyes darted wildly, scanning for anything¡ªa door, a stairwell, a vent¡ªanything that didn¡¯t lead to a dead end.


    Then¡ªhe saw it.


    A massive, full-body window lining the rear of the hallway.


    James didn¡¯t hesitate. He lifted his gun, aiming for the center of the glass.


    BANG!


    The window shattered instantly, glass exploding outward.


    Without missing a beat, he rushed forward, covering his face with his arm as he dove through the opening, boots crunching against shards as he hit the pavement outside.


    For a split second, he stood there, panting, his mind struggling to process where the hell to go.


    The infected were still screaming inside, their bodies flying through the now shattered glass. Their bodies hitting the concrete with a sickening crack.


    James turned toward the cityscape, his breath still ragged.


    He had only one option.


    Run.


    His home was at least forty-five minutes away¡ªforty-five minutes of non-stop sprinting through a hostile, ruined city.


    And right now? That was his only shot at survival.


    James clenched his teeth, took one last breath¡ª


    And ran.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCCCCCKKKKKKK!"


    James screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice nearly giving out as he sprinted through the ruined streets, a horde of infected snarling at his heels.


    His legs burned, his lungs felt like they were being torn apart, and every muscle in his body was screaming for relief¡ªbut relief wasn¡¯t an option. Stopping meant dying.


    He had barely escaped the hospital, and he had been running nonstop back to his camp for what felt like hours.


    Time had lost all meaning¡ªseconds stretched into minutes, minutes into eternity.


    The only thing keeping him moving was the constant shrieking behind him¡ªthat horrible, guttural sound of something that shouldn¡¯t exist but somehow did.


    He was running on pure survival instinct, his mind shutting down everything but the primal need to escape.


    Every time his body threatened to collapse, the chorus of screeches and pounding footsteps sent a fresh jolt of adrenaline through his veins, forcing his legs to keep pumping forward.


    These infected just. Won¡¯t. QUIT!


    He had always wondered how they kept moving like this. Shouldn''t months and years of rotting muscles slow them down? Shouldn''t they get tired? Collapse? Break down?


    But noooooo.


    They moved with the same relentless, unnatural energy, never hesitating, never faltering¡ªas if their bodies were running on pure hunger alone, like some rabid dog chasing its prey until it dropped dead.


    James didn¡¯t dare look behind him¡ªhe could feel them breathing down his neck.


    The city blurred past him, his feet pounding the pavement, dodging around abandoned cars, piles of rubble, and shattered glass. His arms pumped at his sides, the weight of his backpack slamming against his back with every step.


    He wasn¡¯t going to last much longer.


    And then¡ªhe saw it.


    At the end of the street, silhouetted against the fading daylight¡ª


    His building.


    A rush of desperate hope shot through him.


    Almost there! Almost fucking there!


    Summoning every last ounce of strength, he pushed himself harder, his sprint turning into a full-blown, breakneck charge toward the ladder.


    The infected howled behind him, closing in, their shrieks echoing through the empty city like a siren song of death.


    Come on, come on, come on!


    He launched himself at the ladder, hands gripping the cold metal rungs, arms burning as he pulled himself up with everything he had left.


    Safety. It was right there.


    And then¡ªa hand clamped around his ankle.


    ¡°FUCK!¡±


    James snapped his head down, his stomach dropping in horror as he saw a Clicker hanging onto his leg.


    The thing¡¯s rotted fingers dug into his boot, its skull half-covered in hardened fungal plates, its jaw snapping wildly, missing his calf by inches.


    James gritted his teeth, his arms straining to keep himself from being yanked down.


    His hand shot to his pistol, pulling it from his inventory in one desperate motion¡ª


    BANG!


    The first shot tore off a chunk of fungus, but the Clicker barely flinched, its armored skull protecting its brain.


    "SHIT!"


    Panic clawed at his chest¡ªhe didn¡¯t have time for this!


    He tightened his grip, teeth bared in frustration¡ª


    BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!


    MAG. DUMP.


    The pistol kicked in his hands, bullets chipping away at the Clicker¡¯s thick fungal armor.


    Then¡ªfinally¡ª


    A spray of dark blood erupted from its cracked skull, and the thing released its grip, its body tumbling backward into the street below.


    James didn¡¯t stop to watch it hit the ground.


    He slammed his empty pistol back into his inventory and scrambled up the ladder as fast as his shaking limbs allowed, practically throwing himself onto the rooftop.


    He rolled onto his back, chest heaving, limbs trembling, his heart slamming against his ribs like a war drum.


    The distant howls of the infected still echoed below, but James was too busy sucking in ragged breaths to care.


    Holy shit.


    He had actually made it.


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    James reached the top of the ladder, his hands gripping the edge of the rooftop with trembling fingers. With one final heave, he hauled himself over, rolling onto his back as his chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths.


    Then, his stomach lurched.


    He barely had time to turn his head before he vomited onto the rooftop, his body convulsing with the force of it. His entire stomach emptied itself, a mix of bile and adrenaline making his head spin.


    The nausea was overwhelming, but as soon as the retching subsided, a deep satisfaction settled over him.


    Every inch of his body ached¡ªhis legs burned, his arms felt like wet noodles, and his lungs were raw from the constant sprinting¡ªbut somehow, it felt amazing.


    Because he was alive.


    His breath slowed, his vision clearing as he lay there, staring at the night sky above him. A cool breeze brushed across his sweat-soaked skin, and for the first time since he started running, he really let himself feel it.


    Relief crashed through him like a tidal wave, and before he knew it, he was laughing.


    At first, it was soft, breathless chuckles, but then it spiraled into full-on, uncontrollable laughter.


    "THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN!" he howled into the night, his voice echoing across the rooftop.


    He laughed so hard that his ribs hurt, his vision swam, and for a brief moment, he thought he might actually pass out from lack of oxygen.


    It was insane. He was insane.


    He had just barely escaped death, outran a horde that should¡¯ve ripped him apart, and here he was¡ªlaughing like a lunatic.


    But fuck, that rush¡ªthat absolute, heart-pounding rush¡ªwas unlike anything he had ever felt before.


    In his old life, he couldn¡¯t run more than a few feet without collapsing.


    This? This was new. This was freedom.


    His laughter eventually died down, though a wide, giddy grin remained plastered on his face.


    "Holy shit¡­" he breathed out, still chuckling. "That was the dumbest, best thing I¡¯ve ever done."


    His limbs twitched from the aftershocks of adrenaline, but he forced himself to sit up. The exhaustion was bone-deep, his muscles screaming in protest, but he knew better than to sit out here for too long.


    The infected below were still there.


    Even as the rush of his escape faded, he could still hear them, their moans and growls bouncing off the concrete jungle of the city.


    James sighed, running a hand through his damp, sweat-matted hair, and forced himself to his feet. Shaky, but standing.


    "Alright¡­" He muttered to himself. "Camp. Top floor. Bed. Now."


    He glanced at the ladder he had left down, debating pulling it up¡ªbut he was too damn tired to care.


    The infected were keeping other survivors away, anyway.


    He trudged across the wooden plank leading back to his building, stepping into the darkened office space. The second he entered, he suddenly realized¡ª


    He still had his backpack on, and a fucking rifle strapped to his back.


    James blinked.


    "Huh." He patted the strap absently. "Probably should¡¯ve dropped it."


    Oh well. No harm, no foul.


    James made his way toward the elevator shaft, already dreading the climb. His body felt like lead, every movement slower than it should have been.


    Even as he reached for the first metal rung, his ears caught the faint echoes of infected below. The agitated snarls and guttural groans slithered up the shaft, reminding him just how close death still was.


    With a groan, he began to climb, forcing himself to shut out the burning in his arms and legs.


    It felt like an eternity, but eventually, after what had to be his millionth pull-up of the night, he dragged himself onto the top floor and collapsed onto the ground.


    "Fuck¡­" he groaned, barely lifting his head. "I''m never going back to that hospital."


    Before he could even think about resting, an ominous click echoed through the room.


    James¡¯ entire body froze.


    A deep, steady voice followed.


    "Drop the rifle and put your hands up."


    James exhaled sharply through his nose, staring at the floor for a moment before slowly turning his head.


    A gun was aimed directly at his face.


    The man holding it was tall, well-built, and clearly experienced¡ªprobably mid-50s, with dark, greying hair and a thick beard. His expression was unreadable, but there was no hesitation in his stance.


    And on his left wrist, James noticed¡ª


    A broken watch.


    His stomach sank.


    But what really cemented the situation was the figure standing in the corner, near his clothes and comic books.


    A girl, maybe his age, with auburn hair and freckles dotting her face.


    She stared at him, cautious but curious, a pistol held in her hands pointed in his direction.


    James blinked.


    Shit.


    His eyes flicked back to the gun pointed at him, confusion overtaking him.


    "What the fuck are you doing here?"

 Chapter 5: The Silent City

    Ellie sighed for the fifth time in the past five minutes.


    Joel, fed up, turned and shot her an annoyed look, ¡°Will you keep your brooding to yourself?¡±


    Ellie frowned, ¡°I¡¯m not brooding¡± she muttered.


    The older man scoffed, ¡°Right¡­¡±


    Ellie scrunched her face in annoyance, ¡°It¡¯s¡­ we just escaped Pittsburgh and you want to go right back into another city? Doesn¡¯t this seem a bit dumb?¡±


    Joel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°You think I wanna do this? You think I like cities?¡± He gestured around them, towards the broken highway stretching ahead. ¡°We don¡¯t have a goddamn choice, kid.¡±


    Ellie huffed, kicking at a stray rock. ¡°We could just¡­ I don¡¯t know, go south? Find another way?¡±


    Joel shook his head. ¡°And run into what? That whole stretch down through Kentucky is a goddamn graveyard. The military set up quarantine zones, and when those fell, all they left behind were dead ends and minefields.¡±


    Ellie raised an eyebrow. ¡°So what, we just know every road¡¯s blocked? You check every single one?¡±


    Joel clenched his jaw, keeping his patience in check. ¡°Tried that area once. Years ago. Didn¡¯t end well.¡± He glanced over at the crumbling overpass ahead. ¡°Even if we could get through, half the roads are either underwater or crawling with infected hordes. We¡¯d waste weeks trying to navigate that mess¡ªweeks we don¡¯t have.¡±


    Ellie crossed her arms. ¡°Okay, so we don¡¯t go south. Why not just search here? Find another way west that doesn¡¯t involve walking into another death trap? Like you can teach me how to swim and we can swim across.¡±


    Joel exhaled sharply and waved toward the river below. ¡°See that?¡±


    Ellie followed his gaze. The river was swollen, dark, and fast-moving, choked with debris and rusting vehicles. Half a collapsed bridge jutted out over the water like broken bones.


    ¡°That¡¯s the Ohio River. Used to be a dozen ways across, but now?¡± Joel shook his head. ¡°Every bridge that ain¡¯t collapsed is either crawling with infected or locked down by raiders. And swimming? You wanna end up tangled in some sunken mess, or worse, get dragged under by an infected stuck in the current?¡±


    Ellie had a flashback to when they jumped into that river while escaping pittsburgh. ¡°Yeah¡­ okay, no swimming.¡±


    Joel continued. ¡°I found a crossing further west, but some real mean sons of bitches run that stretch. Not the ¡®give us your stuff and leave¡¯ kind either. They see us, we¡¯re dead.¡±


    Ellie hesitated, chewing her lip. ¡°So what¡¯s in Cleveland that¡¯s so much better?¡±


    Joel shrugged. ¡°Dunno. Maybe a bridge, maybe a boat, maybe a tunnel we can get through.¡± He adjusted his pack. ¡°Only thing I do know is, we sure as hell ain¡¯t getting across here.¡±


    Ellie kicked at another rock, grumbling. ¡°Just saying, if we end up in another mess of psychos trying to kill us, I¡¯m blaming you.¡±


    Joel sighed. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Add it to the list.¡±


    And with that, they started north heading straight into Cleveland hoping another fresh hell doesn¡¯t await them.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    The duo moved cautiously through the abandoned city, staying close to cover as they made their way toward their destination¡ªa skyscraper near the lake. Joel never cut corners when entering a new city. Rule number one: scout first, move later. The best way to do that? A bird¡¯s-eye view.


    That¡¯s why they were heading toward one of the few remaining skyscrapers still standing, hoping to get a lay of the land before pushing any deeper.


    The streets of Cleveland were eerily quiet¡ªtoo quiet. The sight of overgrown roads, crumbling buildings, and rusted-out cars was familiar, but this time, it did little to ease Joel¡¯s paranoia. Something about this place felt¡­ wrong.


    By now, they should have seen something¡ªa stray infected, a distant shuffle, a corpse too fresh to ignore. But so far? Nothing.


    Joel¡¯s grip on his rifle tightened as his instincts screamed a warning he couldn¡¯t quite place.


    This city gives me the shivers, he thought grimly.


    Ellie, however, was bored.


    They¡¯d been trekking through this damn city for hours now, all so Joel could get his precious ¡°high¡±-quality view of the place. Ellie snickered to herself at the joke.


    The young girl hopped over a chunk of broken pavement, scanning the ruined street ahead for anything interesting. Her boots crunched against bits of shattered glass and dried leaves as they walked.


    Then she spotted it.


    A very dead, belly-up rat on the sidewalk.


    Her eyes lit up.


    She snatched it up by the tail, holding it out proudly. "Hey, Joel! I found dinner!"


    Joel, who had been surveying a nearby alley for threats, turned just in time to see her holding the dead rodent in front of her face like a prize.


    "Ellie. Put that down."


    Ellie grinned, "Oh, c¡¯mon! It¡¯s all-natural, free-range, and¡ª" she lifted it higher, inspecting the dried-out corpse, "¡­a little extra aged."


    Joel looked like he was seriously reconsidering his life choices. "Ellie. I swear to God¡ª"


    She waved the rat in his direction, stepping closer.


    "I mean, think about it, Joel. You like protein, right?"


    Joel took a deliberate step back, glaring. "Ellie, I ain''t playin''."


    Ellie gave the rat a mock thoughtful look, "I bet we could fry it up real nice. Maybe even make a little rat stew. You ever had rat stew, Joel?"


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    Joel let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his temple. "No, and I ain¡¯t startin¡¯ today."


    Ellie gasped dramatically. "Oh my god. You¡¯re a food snob! That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it?" She smirked. "What, you only eat the fanciest apocalypse meals? Maybe a nice, aged can of beans, huh?"


    Joel shot her a deadpan look. "You got ten seconds to drop that thing before I make you eat it."


    Ellie immediately launched the rat at him¡ªnot actually trying to hit him, but just enough to make it look like she was.


    Joel reacted on pure instinct, taking a full step back with a pissed-off grunt as the rat flopped onto the pavement between them.


    Ellie howled with laughter.


    Joel glared, exhaling sharply through his nose. "You think that¡¯s funny?"


    Ellie was doubled over, wheezing. "Y-you should¡¯ve seen your face!"


    Joel grumbled something under his breath that definitely wasn¡¯t family-friendly, before stepping right over the rat and continuing down the street like he was done with her nonsense.


    Ellie wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling as she followed him. "Aw, c¡¯mon, don¡¯t be mad! It was a little funny."


    Joel didn¡¯t even look at her. "Keep talkin¡¯ and you¡¯re eatin¡¯ the next one."


    Ellie grinned. "Ooooh, you finally warming up to rat stew?"


    Joel let out the deepest sigh in human history and they continued on their path, they were almost there.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    The streets of Cleveland were silent.


    Not just quiet¡ªbut dead.


    No infected. No looters. Not a single distant gunshot. Just emptiness, stretching out between abandoned cars, crumbling buildings, and overgrown streets.


    Ellie pulled her jacket tighter around herself. "Okay. I¡¯ll say it. This place is weird."


    Joel didn¡¯t answer at first. He was too busy scanning the rooftops, the alleyways, the shattered windows¡ªwaiting for something. Anything.


    But there was nothing.


    Ellie frowned. "Not even a single Runner. No fresh bodies. Not a damn thing. What¡¯s up with that?"


    "Dunno." Joel¡¯s voice was low, unreadable. "But I don¡¯t like it."


    Ellie kicked a loose brick down the sidewalk. The sound echoed too much, bouncing off empty buildings, making the city feel even more abandoned.


    "Maybe everyone just left?" she suggested.


    Joel adjusted the strap on his backpack. "Or maybe they¡¯re hidin¡¯."


    The thought sat heavy between them. Ellie stayed quiet for a while, glancing at the buildings they passed. Some had doors left wide open, others were barricaded shut, as if their occupants had tried to keep something out.


    She shivered. "Kinda wish we¡¯d run into somebody. Even a crazy raider or something. At least then we¡¯d know what happened here."


    Joel shot her a look. "Trust me, no you don¡¯t."


    Ellie huffed. "Yeah, yeah. But you gotta admit, this whole ¡®ghost town¡¯ thing is creepy as hell."


    Joel didn¡¯t argue.


    They walked for another few minutes, the only sound their boots crunching against the cracked pavement.


    Then Ellie spotted it.


    Up ahead, rising above the rest of the city, was a skyscraper¡ªin surprisingly good condition, with only the top floor being a bit caved in, almost like it was hit by something.


    She nodded toward it. "That the place?"


    Joel followed her gaze and gave a small grunt of approval. "Yeah. Best vantage point we¡¯re gonna get."


    "So we climb, look around, and¡ªwhat? Just hope we see a nice little ¡®Bridge to the West¡¯ sign pointing us in the right direction?"


    "Somethin¡¯ like that."


    Ellie sighed. "Awesome. Love when the whole plan is just ¡®get high and figure it out.¡¯"


    Joel ignored her sarcasm and picked up the pace. She followed, but as they got closer to the building, the eerie silence around them started to feel heavier.


    Something wasn¡¯t right.


    Ellie glanced at Joel. He felt it too. His grip tightened around his rifle.


    ¡°Let''s just get inside.¡± He muttered.


    Joel and Ellie moved along the boarded-up skyscraper, its towering frame blotting out what little light remained. They circled the building twice, but every entrance was sealed tight. The ground floor was barricaded from the inside¡ªplywood hammered over doorways, metal grates welded shut, and windows reinforced with whatever scrap the inhabitants could find.


    Ellie frowned, "Well, looks like whoever¡¯s in there doesn¡¯t want company."


    Joel grunted in agreement, his gaze scanning upward toward the higher floors.


    They both stood in silence for a moment, listening to the dead air of the city. No infected, no distant gunfire¡ªjust the unsettling sound of wind whistling through broken glass.


    "So¡­?" Ellie broke the silence, tilting her head toward Joel. "What¡¯s the plan?"


    Joel didn¡¯t answer right away. His eyes flicked to the smaller building across the alley, running parallel to the skyscraper. That¡¯s when he spotted it¡ªa rusted ladder bolted to its side, leading up to the roof.


    "There." He pointed.


    Ellie followed his gaze, a grin spreading across her face. "Nice." She said. She started heading towards it, slinging her backpack tighter.


    Joel shook his head but followed without a word. They reached the ladder, and Ellie grabbed the first rung without hesitation, starting her climb.


    "Don¡¯t fall, kid," Joel muttered from below.


    "Pfft, please," Ellie shot back, her voice drifting down. "You think heights scare me after all the crap we¡¯ve been through?"


    Joel couldn¡¯t help but smirk, even if it was fleeting.


    They reached the rooftop, and Ellie pulled herself up with ease. Across the roof she spotted a crude bridge made out of planks and walked over to it. She stood at the edge, hands on her hips, staring at the wooden board that stretched across the alley¡ªa narrow bridge connecting their rooftop to the shattered window of the skyscraper.


    "Huh. That¡¯s definitely not up to code." She turned to Joel with a mischievous glint in her eye. "You want me to go first? Y''know, make sure it doesn''t collapse under all that¡­ old man weight?"


    Joel shot her a look that could''ve withered plants. "Just move."


    Ellie chuckled and walked across the plank without hesitation, her steps light and sure. The board creaked slightly under her weight, but she didn¡¯t flinch. She hopped through the broken window like it was nothing.


    Joel followed, slower but steady. The plank groaned a little more under him, but it held. When he stepped into the dark office space, the air inside was stale, thick with dust and the faint scent of mildew.


    The office was a frozen relic of the past¡ªcubicles stood half-collapsed, papers scattered across the floor like forgotten memories. Sunlight filtered through the broken windows, casting long, eerie shadows.


    But Joel¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t on the decay. They were on the dirt footprints going all around the office.


    "Someone¡¯s been here," he muttered.


    Ellie crouched down, tracing the outline of a boot print with her finger. "Think they¡¯re still around?"


    Joel didn¡¯t answer. His eyes flicked toward the barricaded stairwell at the far end of the room. Heavy desks, filing cabinets, and even some metal scaffolding had been stacked against the door. The barricade wasn¡¯t old¡ªit was fresh.


    "They¡¯re close," Joel finally said, his voice low.


    Ellie¡¯s hand drifted toward her pistol. "Friendly close or¡­ ¡®shoot-first¡¯ close?"


    Joel¡¯s expression darkened. "Don¡¯t know. Stay sharp."


    They moved carefully toward the stairwell that led upward, stepping over broken chairs and debris. But as they approached the door, a sound stopped them cold.


    A low, guttural moan echoed from below.


    Ellie froze, her breath catching in her throat. "Shit¡­" she whispered.


    Joel was already moving, pressing his ear against the barricaded door leading downward. More sounds drifted up¡ªthe wet, ragged breaths of Runners, mixed with the sharp, clicking screeches that turned Joel¡¯s stomach. Clickers.


    "They¡¯re below us," he whispered, stepping back.


    Ellie¡¯s hand tightened around her pistol. "Great. So we¡¯ve got mystery people and infected. This just keeps getting better."


    Joel didn¡¯t waste time. "We¡¯re not stayin¡¯ down here to find out which one gets to us first. C¡¯mon."


    They found another stairwell leading upward, but as they pushed through the door, their hopes dropped. The stairs were collapsed, nothing but a gaping hole where the next flight should¡¯ve been.


    "You¡¯ve gotta be kidding me," Ellie groaned, staring at the jagged concrete. "What now?"


    Joel scanned the hallway, his eyes narrowing as he spotted something at the far end¡ªan open elevator shaft.


    "There."


    They approached cautiously. The shaft yawned before them, a dark void that seemed to stretch forever below. The moans of the infected were faint here but still too close for comfort.


    Ellie peered over the edge, whistling low.


    But then she saw it¡ªa metal ladder bolted to the side of the shaft, leading upward into the shadows.


    "Oh, you¡¯ve gotta be kidding me." She glanced at Joel with an unspoken question.


    Joel gave her a dry look. "Better than bein¡¯ dead. The longer we''re down here the more likely it is for those infected to hear us."


    Ellie rolled her eyes but grabbed the ladder, starting to climb. The metal was cold against her hands, but she moved quickly, determined to put as much distance between herself and the sounds below as possible.


    Joel followed, his ears tuned to every creak of the ladder and every distant moan from below. The city had been silent, but now, the threat felt closer than ever.


    When they finally reached the top floor, Ellie hauled herself up and flopped onto the dusty concrete.


    Joel climbed up behind her, scanning the dimly lit space. The top floor was half-collapsed, open to the darkening sky, but that wasn¡¯t what caught his attention.


    It was the makeshift camp in the corner¡ªa sleeping bag, fireplace, some supplies stacked up thoughtlessly, and a dresser with clothes and comic books spilling out.


    Joel¡¯s jaw tightened. "Someone¡¯s been livin¡¯ here."


    Ellie, drawn to the comics, crouched down and picked one up. Her eyes lit up.


    "No way," she whispered. "Savage Starlight? They¡¯ve got Volume 6! I¡¯ve been looking for this one for months!" she said in awe before digging a bit deeper, ¡°Holy crap! He has almost all of them! Where did they get these?¡±


    But Joel wasn¡¯t listening. His hand drifted to his rifle as he moved deeper into the camp.


    Whoever lived here wasn¡¯t just passing through. This was a home.

 Chapter 6: What the hell are you doing here?

    The top floor of the skyscraper felt too still. The kind of stillness that made Joel¡¯s skin crawl.


    While Ellie sat cross-legged on the dusty floor, flipping through the Stranded Starlight comic she¡¯d found, Joel paced the makeshift camp around them.


    A sleeping bag lay tossed in the corner, its edges still rumpled like someone had just gotten up and left in a hurry. Near it sat a small stash of canned food, barely enough for a couple of days. Not enough unless whoever was living here was constantly scavenging. A half-used roll of duct tape was tossed beside the scattered pieces of what looked like a disassembled bike¡ªthe frame sitting on the ground, the bike chain who knows where, and a couple wheels piled next to each other. Seemed like someone had been trying to fix themselves up a bike but either didn¡¯t know how to or couldn¡¯t find the right parts.


    But what really caught Joel¡¯s eye was the small potted plant on the windowsill. Its leaves were healthy, clearly well taken care of. Fragile, out of place in the middle of this ruined building. You didn¡¯t keep something like that unless you were trying to hold on to something normal.


    Joel¡¯s brow furrowed. Whoever stayed here wasn¡¯t just surviving. They were trying to live.


    "Ellie." His voice cut through the stillness.


    She didn¡¯t even glance up from her comic. "Five more minutes, Joel. You can pry me off the floor later."


    "Put it down." His voice was firmer this time.


    Ellie groaned but closed the comic carefully, sliding it back into the pile. "You¡¯re no fun, y¡¯know that?"


    Joel didn¡¯t respond. He moved toward the collapsed section of the wall, where the city stretched out beneath them in the fading light. He pointed toward the elevator shaft.


    "Keep an eye on that," he instructed. "If anything moves, you yell."


    Ellie gave him a lazy salute. "Yes, sir, Captain Buzzkill."


    Joel ignored her, spotting a rope that led up to the roof. Climbing up it he stomped a couple times to test the integrity of the roof, and once he was satisfied he focused on the ruins of Cleveland below. The sun was sinking lower, casting long, jagged shadows across the crumbling streets. From this height, he could see miles in every direction, and he pulled out a pair of binoculars to help, his eyes quickly honing in on anything that might help them get west.


    Directly ahead, the Detroit-Superior Bridge stretched across the Cuyahoga River. Joel could see the upper deck had partially collapsed, but parts of the lower deck might still be intact. If they were lucky, it could be their best shot at crossing. But bridges? Bridges were always risky. Bottlenecks. Perfect places to get trapped¡ªby infected or worse, raiders.


    Further out, Joel¡¯s eyes traced the elevated stretch of I-90, the highway overpass. From here, it looked mostly intact, though he could see abandoned cars clogging parts of it. High ground meant visibility, but highways were exposed. If they got ambushed, there¡¯d be nowhere to hide.


    On the edge of the city, where Lake Erie lapped against the shoreline, Joel spotted the wide, open fields of Edgewater Park. The openness meant fewer places for infected to hide, and if there was a boat left behind, they might use it to skirt around the city. But it was a gamble. If there were no boats, they¡¯d be trapped, with their backs to the water and nowhere to run.


    And then, just barely visible in the distance, Joel saw it: a thin column of smoke, rising steadily into the sky. Could be other survivors¡ªmaybe even friendly ones. But Joel¡¯s experience told him otherwise. Smoke meant people, and people meant trouble.


    Joel¡¯s mind ran through the risks, trying to piece together a plan. But before he could make a decision, the world around them shifted.


    A distant, low rumble echoed through the air. At first, Joel thought it was just the wind, but the sound grew louder, heavier, until it vibrated in his chest.


    Stomping. Screaming. Moaning.


    Joel¡¯s stomach clenched and he jumped down from the roof.


    "Ellie," he barked, his voice tight.


    She was at his side in an instant, her eyes wide. "What is that?"


    Joel didn¡¯t answer. He just pointed.


    Over the horizon, the horde came into view.


    It was a living wave, pouring down the street, hundreds of infected moving in a frenzied mass. Runners led the charge, their bodies lurching and flailing, while Clickers stumbled behind them, their guttural screeches echoing through the ruins.


    And there, leading the charge, was a figure sprinting as fast as they could. Joel took out his binoculars to get a better look but still wasn¡¯t quite able to make out the figures'' appearance.


    Ellie¡¯s breath caught in her throat. "Oh my god. That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s the most infected I¡¯ve ever seen."


    Joel¡¯s voice was low, but there was an edge to it Ellie had never heard before. "Me too."


    And that was saying something.


    They watched in tense silence as the figure sprinted toward the very building they were in. Joel¡¯s mind raced. Why here? Why this building? Did he live here? What were the chances?


    "He¡¯s coming here, isn¡¯t he?" Ellie whispered, her voice tight.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Joel didn¡¯t respond. He was already moving, grabbing his rifle. "Get ready."


    They boy disappeared from their sight around the building, going towards the ladder they climbed up.


    Then, gunshots rang out from below.


    Bang!


    Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!


    The sharp cracks of a gun echoed through the building as the boy fired at something, finally though they saw him climb onto the roof. The figure, clearly male, laid there for a while as the infected swarm moaned and clawed at the building, the person clearly being exhausted.


    Then he stood and walked towards the building, Joel contemplated shooting him before a gentle hand on his arm stopped him. He looked to the side and saw Ellie shake her head with a frown. The older man grunted and pulled his gun away, heading towards the elevator in preparation. The man strapped the rifle to his back and pulled out a revolver.


    For a moment, all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing. Then came the clatter of boots against metal.


    The man was climbing the elevator shaft.


    Joel moved to the side of the opening, pistol raised, muscles tense. Ellie crouched behind a nearby desk, pistol in hand, her heart pounding in her chest.


    They heard the labored breathing before they saw him. A hand gripped the ledge of the elevator shaft, knuckles scraped raw. Then, with a final burst of effort, the man-no, the boy hauled himself onto the floor and collapsed, gasping for breath.


    "Fuck¡­ I¡¯m never going back to that hospital," he wheezed, voice hoarse and broken, although there was a strange tone of elation in it.


    Before he could catch his breath, the click of Joel''s revolver startled him, the older man''s voice was cold and steady. "Drop the rifle and put your hands up."


    The boy¡¯s head shot up in alarm, before he took a good look at them and confusion washed over his face. "What the fuck are you doing here?¡± he asked in confusion, slowly unclipping his rifle and sliding it to Joel.


    Joel slid the military rifle to the corner of the room and took a good look at the boy and internally grimaced, he never liked pointing guns at kids but understood sometimes it was necessary in this hellscape of a world. The boy¡¯s eyes were wide, his chest still heaving. He looked dead on his feet, sweat matting his hair to his forehead, brown eyes flicking between Joel and Ellie in bewilderment.


    Despite the uncomfortable feeling in his gut Joel¡¯s eyes narrowed. "I could ask you the same thing. Why did you come here, leading the largest horde I''ve ever seen right behind you no less."


    The boy scowled, ¡°Hey! I live here asshole! This is the only place I could think to go.¡± he said in between heaving breaths, ¡°And I ran into them¡± he spat out.


    Joel filed that information away and kept glaring at him, ¡°You bit?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No, somehow¡± the boy grunted out.


    Joel needed to make sure, ¡°Prove it, strip.¡±


    The boy made a face, ¡°Pervert¡±


    Ellie choked on a laugh as Joel scowled, ¡°I ain¡¯t playin¡¯ games!¡± he yelled back.


    The boy sighed, ¡°Fine, I have one of those infection scanners FEDRA carries around in my backpack. I can take it out if you¡¯d let me.¡± he said.


    Joel stared at him for a second before nodding, ¡°Slowly¡­¡±


    The boy moved with painstaking slowness, his arms trembling in exhaustion as he reached for the straps of his pack. Joel¡¯s finger hovered near the trigger, eyes sharp and unblinking. Ellie, still crouched behind the desk, had her pistol raised but her expression was tense¡ªmore out of curiosity now than fear.


    "Man, you¡¯ve got some real trust issues," the boy muttered under his breath as he unzipped the pack.


    ¡°Tell me about it.¡± Ellie said under her breath, ignoring the side eye Joel gave her.


    The boy carefully pulled out a FEDRA infection scanner, the plastic device scratched but still intact. He tossed it toward Joel, who caught it with one hand, never lowering his gun.


    "You know how to use that thing, Grandpa?" the boy sneered, though the exhaustion in his voice dulled the bite.


    Ellie snorted from behind the desk. "Wow, you¡¯re just asking for trouble, huh?" she was starting to like this boy, it¡¯s not often she met someone around her age. Her mind flashed back to a young black kid she met in Pittsburgh and she crushed the horrible memory brutally.


    Joel ignored them both, checking out the blocky device and activating the scanner with a quick press. The device buzzed to life, the tiny screen flickering before settling into a steady glow. He motioned with his chin. "Where¡¯d you get this?¡± he asked, eying the FEDRA vest the kid had on.


    The boy shrugged nonchalantly, ¡°Corpse¡±


    Joel nodded in understanding before taking a step forward, ¡°Show me your neck.¡±


    The boy rolled his eyes but tilted his neck to the side revealing pale, bruised skin. Joel pressed the scanner to the boy¡¯s neck, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. A needle shot out of the tip with a sharp clack, causing James to wince.


    Beep


    The scanner flashed green.


    Joel exhaled through his nose and finally relaxed, lowering his revolver but keeping it in his grip. He passed the scanner back, his eyes never leaving the boy¡¯s face.


    "Name," Joel barked.


    The boy wiped sweat from his brow, his chest still heaving. "James." His voice was hoarse, but there was a spark of defiance in his eyes. "Convinced I''m not infected now?" he asked in annoyance.


    "Mhm¡± Ellie grunted, ¡°You¡¯ll forgive us for not taking your word for it," Ellie shot back, crossing her arms. "It¡¯s kinda a thing we do¡ªmaking sure people don¡¯t, y¡¯know, try to eat us."


    James gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, well, you¡¯re not my type, so I think you¡¯re safe."


    Ellie made a face. "Gross."


    James let out another laugh before turning back to Joel. "Didn¡¯t expect company, you really scared me." he said with an easy smile.


    Joel didn¡¯t return the smile. His eyes stayed sharp, unreadable. "You led a damn horde right to your front door."


    James huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well¡­ wasn¡¯t exactly part of the plan."


    Joel wasn¡¯t laughing. ¡°You live here?¡±


    James nodded, his grin fading into something more serious. ¡°Yeah¡­ although I think I''ve had enough of this city. Kinda hard to call it home when there¡¯s a thousand infected pounding on the walls.¡± He jerked his thumb toward the windows where the faint, distant moans still echoed through the building.


    Joel¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°You led them here.¡± He repeated angrily, ¡°Now were trapped here with you¡±


    James¡¯s smile dropped completely, replaced by a flash of frustration. ¡°It¡¯s not like I had a choice! I ran into them near the hospital. Trust me, I was trying not to die. This was the only place I knew where I''d be safe.¡± He gestured around the room in annoyance. ¡°You guys had no business being here but yet you are.¡±


    Ellie, who had been looking through his backpack shamelessly, raised an eyebrow and glanced at Joel. ¡°He¡¯s got a point. We did kinda break in.¡±


    Joel shot her a look. ¡°We didn¡¯t have much choice.¡± he said, ¡°You the one that blocked off the first floor?¡± he asked.


    James shrugged, leaning back against the wall. ¡°That wasn¡¯t me. All I did was block up the stairs.¡±


    For a moment, the room fell into silence, the only sounds being James¡¯s labored breathing and the faint groans below.


    Ellie looked up from her search through his bag, staring at him with a curious face ¡°So, you went to the hospital?¡±


    James nodded, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Ellie smirked, pulling out the worn map and holding it up, her eyebrow cocked. ¡°Guess you didn¡¯t read your own map then.¡± She pointed to the giant red skull with ¡®Avoid at ALL COSTS¡¯ scrawled above it. Joel glanced over, his scowl deepening.


    James shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. ¡°Found that map on a corpse. I mean, come on¡ªit¡¯s basically a treasure map. Of course I¡¯m gonna check out the most interesting spot in the city.¡±


    Ellie gave him a look like he¡¯d just grown a second head. ¡°Interesting? The big red skull doesn¡¯t scream dangerous to you? It¡¯s practically a neon sign saying ¡®Welcome to your horrible, messy death.¡¯¡±


    James laughed, loud and unbothered. ¡°That¡¯s what makes it fun!¡±


    Now even Joel was staring at him, his brow furrowed. ¡°Fun?¡±


    James nodded enthusiastically, like this was the most normal thing in the world. ¡°Yeah, nothing makes you feel more alive than walking the line between life and death.¡± He flashed them a grin that was way too bright for someone who had just nearly gotten eaten.


    Ellie¡¯s smile faded, her skin prickling. ¡°Okaaay¡­¡± She exchanged a glance with Joel, who didn¡¯t look much more comfortable. ¡°You¡¯re kind of a freak, y¡¯know that?¡±


    Joel¡¯s patience was wearing thin, his voice hardening. ¡°Well, thanks to your idea of ¡®fun,¡¯ we¡¯re now trapped in this building with a swarm outside. So unless you¡¯ve got some brilliant escape plan, maybe stop smiling like this is a damn field trip.¡±


    James, unfazed, stretched his legs out with a lazy grin. ¡°Hey, I haven¡¯t talked to anyone in over a year, so honestly? I¡¯m not complaining.¡± He glanced between Joel and Ellie, his grin widening. ¡°You two are way more interesting than a bunch of dead guys.¡±


    Ellie blinked, her lips twitching in disbelief.


    Joel just glared at the boy harder, ¡°You better not try to have any more of your ¡®fun¡¯.¡± he said, ¡°You do anything stupid that risks our lives and I¡¯ll kill you¡± he warned.


    James just chuckled, like they were talking about the weather.

 Chapter 7: Whats the plan, Stan?

    Ellie sat cross-legged on the floor, her fingers carefully flipping through the pages of a Savage Starlight comic, eyes wide with excitement. The soft morning light filtered through the shattered windows, illuminating the glossy cover in her lap¡ªits edges slightly worn but still in surprisingly good condition.


    ¡°Dude,¡± she breathed, grinning as she turned the page. ¡°You basically have every issue of Savage Starlight. I haven¡¯t seen like half these before!¡±


    James sat a few feet away, leaning back against a crate, smirking at her reaction. He hadn¡¯t been able to get a good look at her last night due to the dim lighting, but now that the sun was up, he could see her just fine.


    She looks exactly like she did in the video game, he thought. A cute, if somewhat plain-looking girl, with freckles dotting her face.


    James shook off the thought and refocused back on the conversation. ¡°Yeah? Well, welcome to the Apocalypse Archives.¡± He gestured lazily toward a small pile of comics stacked neatly in a box near his sleeping bag. ¡°I¡¯ve been hoarding these since I got here.¡± he said, proud to finally have someone to show off his collection to.


    Then, muttering under his breath, ¡°Too bad I¡¯m gonna have to ditch them when leaving.¡±


    Ellie shook her head in disbelief, flipping to another page. ¡°Okay, but where the hell did you even find all of them? I swear, every place I checked was already picked clean.¡±


    James chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. ¡°You have to know where to look.¡± He shot her a smug look. ¡°Downtown bookstores, old comic shops¡ªhell, even a couple of gas stations still had some. Everyone looted food and weapons, but no one gave a shit about comics.¡±


    Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. ¡°Idiots.¡± She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing in annoyance, ¡°Joel doesn¡¯t let me search for comics, he says ¡®they are a waste of time¡¯¡± she said, mimicking Joel''s voice.


    James laughed at her impression, ¡°Well, if we get out of this alive I¡¯ll show you how to find the good spots.¡± he said.


    Ellie grinned at him excitedly, ¡°Really!? You have to promise me!¡± She exclaimed, pointing at him.


    James held up his pinky, ¡°Pinky promise¡± he said, causing Ellie to smile happily and cross her pinky with his.


    Once she put her hand down she stared at the comic in her lap happily, ¡°I can already picture it¡ªan untouched comic shop.¡± She said, stars in her eyes.


    James smirked. ¡°We might have to fight some infected to get there, you willing to risk your life for a good read?¡±


    Ellie glanced up at him, completely serious. ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    James laughed, shaking his head. ¡°I respect it.¡±


    The mood in the room was noticeably lighter. After a solid night¡¯s sleep, James felt a thousand times better. His nerves weren¡¯t as frayed, and his muscles, while sore, were at least usable now. After the whole "We¡¯ll kill you if you try anything" speech, they had at least managed to rest, and now morning had arrived¡ªthough it wasn¡¯t exactly peaceful.


    Outside, the infected were still pounding and screaming at the base of the building, their grotesque moans and guttural snarls a constant reminder that their situation hadn¡¯t changed.


    The golden morning light cast long shadows across the room, making the dust in the air glow softly as it drifted through the still air. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a collapsing structure echoed faintly¡ªanother building, crumbling under the weight of time.


    A low grunt from the other side of the room made both of them turn their heads.


    Joel had been sitting against the wall, silent for the past hour, lost in his own thoughts.


    Finally, he broke the silence.


    "You know the city well?" Joel¡¯s voice was even, but there was an edge to it¡ªcalculated, probing.


    James blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question, but nodded. "Yeah. Been going on scavenging runs every day for the past two months. Why?"


    Joel¡¯s eyes flickered toward Ellie, then back to James. "Because waiting it out ain¡¯t an option. We don¡¯t have enough food or water to last long. If we¡¯re gonna get out of this, we need a plan."


    James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "Yeah¡­ I might have something."


    Joel raised an eyebrow. "Let¡¯s hear it."


    James pushed himself to his feet, brushing the dust off his pants. "Not gonna explain it here. Easier if I show you. Follow me."


    Joel¡¯s jaw tightened. He didn¡¯t like the idea of following this kid anywhere, especially when they were still trapped in a building with a horde outside.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Ellie, however, was already standing. "Well, alright, let¡¯s go then."


    James walked over to the elevator shaft, peering down into the darkness below. "We¡¯re taking the express route."


    Joel and Ellie exchanged a glance¡ªthey had climbed this thing before so they weren¡¯t too worried. Still, the idea of heading down into unknown territory wasn¡¯t exactly comforting.


    Joel gave the ladder a firm shake just to be sure it wouldn¡¯t collapse, then nodded. "Alright. Let¡¯s move."


    Without hesitation, he gripped the rungs and started descending, his movements steady and deliberate.


    Ellie sighed. "God, I hate doing this in the dark." Still, she followed, her hands firm on the cold metal as she descended into the void below.


    James went last, effortlessly sliding down the rails, landing with a quiet thud like he¡¯d done it a thousand times before.


    After descending about four floors, James told Joel to get off here. After Joel and Ellie stepped onto the new storey the boy hopped off the ladder and motioned them to follow. He led them through a dusty, abandoned hallway, the air thick with the scent of mildew and rot. They stepped over scattered debris, moving carefully to avoid making too much noise.


    James stopped in front of a large wall-mounted map, the glass covering it cracked but still mostly intact. He wiped a layer of dust away with his sleeve and tapped a section near the base of the tower.


    "See this?" he said, pointing to a network of tunnels marked beneath the structure. "This building used to have maintenance tunnels that run underneath it. Those tunnels lead straight into the sewer system, and the sewers run all over the damn city."


    Joel leaned in, studying the map closely. "You¡¯re sure they still exist?"


    James scoffed. "I live here. Trust me, they¡¯re there. I just never had a reason to use them before now."


    Ellie¡¯s face scrunched up. "Ugh. The sewers? Really?"


    James shrugged. "Hey, you wanna take the scenic route through the horde outside, be my guest."


    Ellie frowned but didn¡¯t comment.


    Joel tapped his fingers against the map. "One problem¨Cthe bottom of this building is full of infected."


    James nodded. "Yeah. Luckily, the outside¡¯s boarded up tight. Horde can¡¯t get in. But everything that was already inside? Yeah¡­ that¡¯s our problem."


    Joel exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "How bad we talkin¡¯?"


    James tilted his head, thinking. "Definitely some Runners, a couple Clickers¡­ might be a Bloater, but I can¡¯t say for sure."


    Ellie frowned. "You might have a Bloater? How do you not know?!"


    James shrugged. "Look, I don¡¯t hang out down there, okay? I hear shit moving, and I steer clear."


    Joel took a step back from the map, his mind already turning over the options. They couldn¡¯t wait out the horde. They couldn¡¯t go through the streets. The tunnels were their best shot¡ªbut first, they had to get past whatever was lurking below.


    He let out a slow breath. "Alright." He said, staring at the map with calculating eyes, ¡°I have a plan.¡±


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    With the distant sounds of the horde outside and the eerie silence within the building, Joel, Ellie, and James wasted no time gathering their supplies. Every bag was filled to the brim with the most vital supplies¡ªammo, food, medical supplies, and whatever gear they could carry. Anything too heavy or unnecessary was left behind¡ªspeed mattered more than comfort.


    They moved to the elevator shaft, peering down into the abyss. Most of the floor elevator doors were closed, including the ones leading to the bottom three floors, meaning they had no choice but to exit at the fourth story and make their way down the hard way.


    After a bit of grumbling from Ellie they climbed out of the elevator shaft one by one, stepping cautiously into the dimly lit fourth floor hallway.


    The air was heavy, pressing down on them like a physical weight. The silence in the room made James grin involuntarily¡ªit was the kind of tension that sent a thrill through his veins.


    They moved with precision, their bodies low, knives and melee weapons gripped tightly, determined to be as silent as possible.


    The hallway was tight, lined with half-open doors, their insides swallowed by shadows. The ceiling tiles had caved in places, their remnants strewn across the ground in a chaotic mess. Occasionally, their boots crunched over broken glass, forcing them to freeze, holding their breath until they were sure nothing had heard them.


    Joel took point, his hunting knife sliding effortlessly into the skull of a lone Runner. His other hand caught the collapsing body before it could thud against the ground. He motioned forward, signaling Ellie and James to keep moving.


    James¡¯ heartbeat picked up.


    It was one thing to play as Joel in a video game, to single-handedly take down hundreds of infected. But seeing someone that skilled in real life?


    It was awesome.


    His admiration was short-lived.


    Click Click Click


    A low, guttural clicking echoed through the hallway.


    James tensed, his breath catching in his throat.


    Up ahead, in the center of the corridor, stood one Clicker and two Runners.


    A bead of sweat rolled down James¡¯ forehead.


    They were standing in an intersection, where one hallway branched into another. To the left, a waiting area had been overturned, a pile of rotted chairs and broken vending machines acting as a natural barricade. The emergency exit sign above it flickered weakly, buzzing every few seconds as if trying to cling to life.


    Joel met their eyes, calm and calculated.


    The older man made hand gestures that James roughly understood¡ª¡®I¡¯ll take the Clicker, Ellie takes the Runner on the left, James takes the one on the right.¡¯


    James nodded firmly, tightening his grip on his knife.


    His heart pounded, the familiar rush of adrenaline surging through him.


    They moved as one, slow and deliberate, creeping through the debris.


    The Runner in front of him twitched violently, its body jerking in short, sporadic movements.


    James¡¯ peripheral vision caught Joel moving first¡ªa blur of brutal efficiency as his knife sank into the Clicker¡¯s throat before it could even react.


    Ellie moved next, her blade slicing into her Runner¡¯s neck, suffocating its scream as it collapsed.


    James barely had time to process before his own Runner reacted.


    The infected¡¯s head snapped toward him, its body jerking upright as if it could sense something was wrong.


    James lunged forward, his knife plunging into the side of its neck.


    The Runner spasmed violently, a guttural snarl escaping its throat as it thrashed in pain.


    James felt its hands claw at his jacket, fingers digging into his arms, but finding no purchase thanks to the magazines James has strapped to his body. Its body shook uncontrollably.


    With gritted teeth, James pushed it down, forcing the infected onto its back and pinning it with his knee.


    Its mouth snapped at the air, a choking growl escaping its lips as its hands grasped wildly.


    He stabbed again¡ª


    And again.


    And again.


    Finally, the body went still.


    Currency: 6 (+1)


    James exhaled heavily, grinning like a maniac. His hands trembled from the rush of adrenaline and he tried to calm himself, aware of the wary look Joel was sending him.


    Shaking off the tension, James wiped his knife clean, then continued following Joel and Ellie through the dim, dilapidated corridors.


    Fortunately, that was the last of the infected on the fourth floor, and they quickly made their way down to the stairwell without trouble.


    The stairwell was dark and narrow, metal railings rusted with years of neglect.


    They passed the third floor, briefly scouting through the dust-covered window of the door. Nothing moved inside, so they kept descending.


    Then, they hit a problem.


    The stairwell to the first floor was completely collapsed¡ªchunks of concrete, rusted pipes, and shattered railings blocking the way down.


    James cursed under his breath.


    Joel didn¡¯t speak, but they all knew what had to be done.


    They had one choice¡ªgo through the second floor.

 Chapter 8: Knife to meet you

    They didn¡¯t speak. They didn¡¯t need to.


    With a silent nod between them, they took a breath and pushed forward into the second floor.


    The hallways were a wreck¡ªdesks overturned, scattered papers fluttering across the tile, the air thick with the scent of mildew and something rotten. Old bullet casings littered the ground, long since abandoned by whatever fight had taken place here.


    And standing among the wreckage were five infected.


    Two Clickers. Three Runners. Luckily the clickers were separated from the runners.


    James felt his heartbeat quicken, but he kept his grip firm on his knife, his muscles already tensing in anticipation.


    Joel motioned for them to split up, his hands moving in silent commands¡ªthey would each take one of the Runners first. Silent kills only. No mistakes.


    The three of them moved in sync, silent as shadows, weaving through the wreckage of overturned desks and scattered papers.


    They spread out, each picking their mark.


    Joel went first, moving like a ghost, his blade slipping effortlessly beneath the jaw of his target, severing the brainstem before it even knew he was there. He caught the body, easing it down slowly, muffling the sound of it hitting the floor.


    Ellie mirrored his movement perfectly. A quick, practiced grip, her knife sinking into the side of the skull, the Runner twitching once before collapsing onto a desk, motionless.


    James crept toward his target, knife poised, breath steady¡ª


    Then his boot landed on a shard of glass.


    Crunch.


    The Runner''s head snapped up instantly, its glazed eyes locking onto him.


    James lunged, driving his knife into its throat before it could scream, but the damn thing fought back.


    The gurgling snarl it let out was just loud enough.


    Click.


    Click-click-click.


    James'' stomach dropped as the two Clickers in the hallway went still.


    Then they screeched, heads snapping toward the noise.


    The Runner convulsed violently in James¡¯ grip, thrashing against the blade in its throat. He gritted his teeth, using his entire body weight to drive it into the floor before twisting the knife hard, silencing it for good.


    Currency 7(+1)


    The moment James¡¯ Runner hit the floor, the Clickers charged.


    Joel reacted first, stepping into the path of the closest Clicker, meeting it head-on.


    It lunged wildly, its clawed hands swiping at his face, but Joel was faster. He dodged left, his blade flashing in the dim light, slashing across the exposed fungal growths that lined the Clicker¡¯s skull.


    The infected staggered, shrieking in rage, but it wasn¡¯t slowing down.


    With its enhanced strength, it recovered too fast, turning its body in a frenzied charge, slamming forward.


    Joel barely had time to sidestep, but the force of the attack still sent him stumbling backward, his boots skidding on loose debris.


    For the first time, James saw Joel struggle.


    His breath still ragged from his own kill, James acted without thinking.


    He rushed in, throwing himself shoulder-first into the Clicker¡¯s ribs, his entire weight crashing against it.


    The impact knocked it off balance, sending it sprawling over a toppled metal cart with a sickening crash.


    Joel was on it in an instant, not wasting a second.


    His knife drove up through its chin, the blade tearing into its skull. The Clicker went rigid, then slumped lifelessly to the ground.


    One down.


    A sharp thud echoed behind him.


    James turned just in time to see Ellie struggling, her back pressed against a desk, the second Clicker clawing at her arms, teeth bared, lunging for her neck.


    For a split second, James saw something on her face that sent a cold twist through his stomach¡ª


    Pure fear.


    Joel froze, the sight causing horrible memories to flash through his mind.


    James moved.


    Teeth gritted, he lunged forward, his knife held in a two hand grip slammed into the back of the Clicker¡¯s skull, the blade sinking deep, piercing through to the bone.


    The Clicker shuddered violently, arms twitching¡ª


    Then collapsed, finally still.


    James exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with adrenaline, his hands still tight around the handle of his blade, waiting for it to twitch one last time.


    But it didn¡¯t.


    Currency: 10 (+3).


    James let out a shaky laugh, breathless, his whole body trembling from the effort. He pulled his knife free, wiping the thick, fungal gore on the Clicker¡¯s torn clothing before finally taking a step back.


    Then¡ª


    Joel was already on Ellie.


    He moved fast, hands gripping her arms, turning her this way and that, scanning her for any wounds, any signs of a bite. His expression was stone-cold, but James caught the way his hands shook, just a little.


    ¡°You hurt?¡± Joel¡¯s voice was sharp, edged with something James couldn¡¯t quite place.


    Ellie shook her head quickly, still trying to catch her breath. ¡°No, no¡ªI¡¯m fine. I¡¯m fine.¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Joel¡¯s gaze flickered down to her arms, his fingers ghosting over the scrape where the Clicker had grabbed her, but the skin was unbroken.


    Ellie pulled her arm free. ¡°See? Still in one piece.¡±


    Joel didn¡¯t look convinced, but he gave a curt nod and stepped back.


    James leaned against the desk, still coming down from the fight.


    He glanced at Ellie, who was rolling her shoulder, her face pale, but otherwise holding it together.


    For a second, James debated saying something, cracking a joke to cut the tension¡ª


    But then he thought about the look on her face when the Clicker had pinned her.


    He swallowed down whatever smart remark had been forming in his head and instead said, ¡°¡­You sure you¡¯re good?¡±


    Ellie blinked, glancing at him.


    Then she forced a small smirk, shaking off whatever had been lingering in her mind.


    ¡°Dude. I literally saved your ass two minutes ago.¡±


    James let out a huff of laughter, rubbing his face. ¡°Yeah, yeah. You¡¯re welcome, by the way.¡±


    Ellie scoffed. ¡°Pfft. That Clicker had, like, three more seconds before I got it.¡±


    James snorted. ¡°Uh-huh. Totally.¡±


    Joel sighed, rubbing his temple. ¡°Alright, enough. We need to move.¡±


    The joking fizzled out, and the reality of their situation settled back in.


    They continued walking, moving carefully, each step measured, the floor beneath them creaking with age. The main-floor stairwell had taken time to find, but once they did, it felt like they had finally made some progress.


    Until they saw what was waiting for them below.


    Joel stepped forward first, peering through the narrow gap of the stairwell door. His body went rigid. Ellie and James, sensing his hesitation, edged closer and followed his gaze.


    What they saw sent a cold dread through their bones.


    The entire first floor was crawling with Clickers.


    Their grotesque, fungal-ridden heads twitched violently, their bodies swaying unnaturally as they moved in erratic, uncoordinated patterns. Dozens of them filled the halls, their low clicks echoing, bouncing off the walls in a haunting, symphonic chorus. They seemed agitated by the noise of the horde outside.


    But it wasn¡¯t just them.


    In the center of the infested horde, a towering, grotesque figure loomed. Its body was swollen and misshapen, thick fungal plating covering its skin like armor. Large bulging sacks of spores pulsed on its back, its breathing a heavy, deep rumble that sent shivers down James¡¯ spine.


    A Bloater.


    James exhaled slowly, gripping his knife tighter, as if that would do anything against that thing.


    Ellie swallowed hard. ¡°Well, shit.¡±


    Joel pulled back from the door, his face grim, already trying to piece together a plan.


    They couldn¡¯t take them all out.


    They couldn¡¯t sneak through.


    They had one option: Distraction.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    Back on the relative safety of the second floor, the three huddled in a tight corner, voices low but urgent.


    ¡°We need to pull them away,¡± Joel said, his tone sharp, all business. ¡°If we can get them out of the hallway, we¡¯ll have a straight shot to the maintenance tunnels.¡±


    James furrowed his brows. ¡°And how exactly do we do that?¡±


    Joel¡¯s gaze flicked toward the elevator shaft.


    ¡°Noise,¡± he said simply.


    Realization dawned and Ellie tensed, already shaking her head. ¡°No. No way, Joel. You are not doing that.¡±


    ¡°Ellie¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± She clenched her jaw, arms crossed. ¡°That is a stupid-ass plan, even for you.¡±


    James glanced between the two, knowing it was a bad idea to come between them. He caught the subtle shift in Joel¡¯s stance¡ªthat unyielding, immovable look that meant he had already made up his mind.


    "We don¡¯t have another choice," Joel said, his voice calm but firm. "You wait for the sound. The second you hear it, you run for the tunnel. No hesitation."


    Ellie¡¯s hands balled into fists at her sides.


    "Joel¡ª"


    "I¡¯ll be right behind you."


    She didn¡¯t believe him. Not entirely.


    James saw it in the way her shoulders tensed, in the way her fingers curled like she was holding back something she didn¡¯t want to say.


    For a moment, she didn¡¯t answer.


    Then¡ªwith a sharp exhale, she relented. ¡°¡­Fine.¡±


    Joel nodded once before stepping back, loading a fresh round into his rifle.


    Then he left, heading back to the upper floors.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    The pitch-black elevator shaft yawned open before him as Joel descended the ladder, the metal cold and slick beneath his hands. He moved fast, boots pressing firmly but carefully against the rungs, his grip steady despite the tension coiling in his chest.


    The closed doors on the first, second, and third floors ensured he was safe for now¡ªbut that wouldn¡¯t last long.


    He reached the bottom, his boots landing softly against the elevator floor.


    Joel took a slow, steady breath.


    Then¡ªhe raised the stock of his rifle¡ª


    And slammed it against the metal doors.


    BANG. BANG. BANG.


    The sound echoed violently, reverberating through the walls like a gunshot in a cave.


    For a split second, nothing happened.


    Then, from the other side¡ª


    A chorus of screams erupted.


    The Clickers shrieked, their clicks turning into frantic, desperate wails. Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor, dozens of clawed hands scratching against the walls, scrambling toward the sound.


    Then¡ª


    A thick, heavy slam rattled the door.


    The Bloater had arrived.


    Joel could feel the metal shudder as the beast¡¯s massive fists pounded against it, the low rumble of its breath reverberating through the shaft.


    Time to go.


    Joel climbed fast, gripping the ladder with white-knuckled hands, hauling himself upward just as another deafening crash rattled the door below.


    The Bloater was determined, its roars vibrating through his bones.


    But Joel didn¡¯t look back.


    The older man raced his way down through the floors and reached the second storey, stepping into the hallway, his heart still pounding in his chest. He had made it¡ª


    Then a Clicker slammed into him from the side.


    His rifle slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor as the infected pinned him against the wall, its fungal teeth snapping inches from his face.


    Joel gritted his teeth, shoving back, but the thing was strong¡ªstronger than any human that skinny should be.


    It thrashed wildly, clawed hands digging into his jacket, its breath hot and rancid as it shrieked into his ear.


    Joel struggled, grappling its arms, keeping its snapping jaws at bay¡ª


    But the thing was too strong.


    His arms struggled, his aged joints screaming in pain as he pushed them past their limits. He was out of his prime, and he wasn''t sure he was going to win this one.


    Then¡ª


    A sharp cry, followed by a wet crunch.


    The Clicker suddenly shuddered, its body jerking violently before going limp.


    Joel shoved it off just in time to see Ellie standing there, her knife buried deep in its neck, breath heavy.


    She yanked the blade free, scowling down at him.


    "You thought I¡¯d just leave you?" she snapped.


    Joel exhaled, shaking his head. "Told you to leave."


    Ellie scoffed. "Yeah, well, you suck at giving orders."


    James stepped into view, a pistol gripped tightly in his hands, watching the hallway behind them.


    Joel stilled for a moment, taking in the gun.


    His rifle was still strapped to his back¡ªJames hadn¡¯t taken it.


    Which meant¡ª


    Where the hell did the kid get a pistol?


    But now wasn¡¯t the time.


    Joel picked up his rifle. "Move. Now."


    They bolted down the stairs, their breath ragged, hearts hammering as they descended two steps at a time. The stairwell was narrow and steep, the walls lined with faded, peeling emergency exit signs. Dust rained from the ceiling, shaken loose by the distant, thundering blows of the Bloater still trying to break through the elevator doors.


    Their boots thudded against the metal steps, the echo of their escape amplified in the tight space, but there was no turning back now.


    Joel hit the first-floor landing first, shoving through the door into the main hallway, his rifle already raised. Ellie and James followed, breathless, their footsteps kicking up dust and discarded papers.


    The air was thick with rot, the lingering stench of decay and fungal growth hanging in the space like an oppressive fog. The dim lighting from cracked overhead panels cast long, flickering shadows, making the entire floor feel even more like a damn nightmare.


    Then¡ªthey saw it.


    The faint, swirling haze of spores.


    "Masks!" Joel barked, already reaching for his gas mask.


    Ellie and James reacted instantly, pulling out what little protection they had.


    Joel secured his gas mask, the worn rubber sealing tightly against his face with practiced ease. Beside him, James yanked the filtration mask over his nose and mouth, the straps digging into his cheeks as he adjusted it.


    Ellie, with nothing better, pulled a surgical mask over her face, her eyes narrowing as she tugged it into place.


    She knew she was immune, but still¡ªbreathing in spores probably wasn¡¯t great for lung health. And besides, keeping up appearances mattered.


    Her gaze flicked to James.


    Can¡¯t exactly drop that bombshell right now.


    It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªbut it was better than nothing.


    Then they ran.


    They sprinted forward, navigating around overturned desks and broken down chairs, their footfalls muffled but still present¡ªand that was enough.


    A Clicker twitched violently in a nearby waiting area.


    Then another.


    The sound of running footsteps was like a dinner bell, and suddenly, every Clicker in the hallway reacted at once.


    Their heads snapped toward them, fungal-covered faces twitching as a chorus of clicks rippled through the air.


    Joel didn¡¯t hesitate. "Move! Keep moving!"


    The Clickers let out blood-curdling shrieks, lurching toward them with sickening speed, their jagged fingers clawing at the air as they stumbled over debris to reach their prey.


    One of them lunged too close, its deformed hand grasping at Ellie¡¯s backpack.


    "Fuck off!" she growled, twisting her body just enough to break free, her knife flashing as she stabbed backward, barely clipping its arm before James shoved her forward.


    No time to fight. Just run.


    Joel was already ahead, clearing the path with brutal efficiency. He slammed his shoulder into a toppled reception desk, sending it skidding across the floor and crashing into a Clicker¡¯s legs, momentarily tripping it up. The infected stumbled, shrieking in frustration, buying them a few precious seconds as they barreled toward the maintenance door.


    The sound of the infected behind them was deafening now¡ªrapid footsteps, shrill screams, the clicking growing louder and more erratic.


    James reached the maintenance tunnel door first, yanking it open, practically shoving Ellie through.


    Joel risked a single glance back¡ª


    And froze for half a second at the sight of what was coming.


    The Bloater.


    The massive, hulking infected shoved aside Clickers like they were nothing, its grotesque fungal armor bulging with every heavy step, its wheezing, labored breath thick with spores.


    And it was charging right for them.


    Joel lunged through the doorway, and James slammed it shut behind him, just as the infected crashed into it.


    They threw their weight against it, forcing it closed.


    Ellie grabbed a rusted pipe, shoving it through the handles, locking it in place.


    Joel and James dragged a metal shelf, wedging it against the door just as the first heavy slam shook the frame.


    The infected shrieked and howled, their clawed hands scraping violently against the metal.


    But for now¡ª


    They were safe.

 Chapter 9: Where the sun don鈥檛 shine

    As soon as they had a moment to breathe, the trio ripped off their masks, sucking in deep, desperate breaths of the stale but mercifully breathable air. The weight of the past few minutes settled over them, their chests rising and falling as they recovered from the frantic escape.


    Ellie took the chance to light her flashlight and look around the dark area they found themselves in.


    The room they were in was large and industrial, its walls and floors solid concrete, worn down by time and neglect. Pipes snaked across the walls, some rusted to the point of flaking apart, while large metal valves sat unmoving, likely fused in place from decades of disuse.


    Against one wall, an old, rusted fuse box hung open, its wires tangled and exposed, like some kind of rotting mechanical corpse.


    Ellie frowned. ¡°This place is seriously falling apart.¡±


    James let out a small, breathless laugh, still coming down from the adrenaline rush, ¡°You¡¯re surprised?¡±


    Ellie rolled her eyes before moving toward the short set of metal stairs leading downward. Her boots clanked softly against the steel as she descended. At the bottom, she came to a reinforced door, its surface pitted with decades of corrosion.


    She peeked through the small, grime-covered window, her brow furrowing as she tried to make out what lay beyond.


    A tunnel.


    Or more accurately¡ªan abyss.


    It was pitch black, swallowing whatever faint light leaked through the doorway. Frowning, she pulled out a small flashlight and flicked it on, shining its beam into the darkness.


    The tunnel stretched forward into an unending void, its walls narrow and damp, lined with corroded pipes that wept slow, rhythmic drops of water into the shallow stream running along the floor.


    The dim emergency lighting that once illuminated these passageways had long since burned out, leaving nothing but shadows clinging to every surface like a second skin.


    The air was heavy with moisture, the scent of wet concrete, rust, and something faintly rotten hanging thick around them.


    Ellie grimaced slightly, wrinkling her nose. ¡°Ugh¡­ It smells horrible down here.¡±


    Joel grunted, his expression unreadable. ¡°We¡¯ve been through worse.¡±


    Ellie frowned, ¡°Doesn¡¯t make it easier.¡± she said with a sigh.


    James chucked and took a slow step forward, staring into the dark tunnel ahead.


    They stood there for a beat, listening to the distant, echoing sound of dripping water, before Joel let out a quiet sigh.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±


    With a final breath, the trio stepped into the tunnel, the darkness closing in around them as they disappeared into the depths.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    After about fifteen minutes of just walking through the endless maze of tunnels the silence was starting to drive James insane. He stretched his arms above his head as they trudged forward. ¡°So¡­¡± He let the word drag out, filling the quiet. ¡°Where are you both from?¡±


    Ellie kicked a loose rock into the grimy water at their feet. ¡°Boston, born and raised.¡±


    Joel adjusted the rifle strap on his shoulder. ¡°Texas.¡±


    James nodded as if filing that information away. ¡°How¡¯d you two meet?¡±


    Joel and Ellie exchanged a quick look, silently debating how much to tell him. After a beat, Joel sighed through his nose, deciding there was no harm in sharing some basics.


    ¡°I¡¯m delivering her to the Fireflies,¡± he said, voice even. ¡°Got tasked with it back in Boston.¡±


    James raised an eyebrow. ¡°The resistance group?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Cool.¡±


    Joel and Ellie were slightly surprised by his lack of reaction. Most people either feared, respected, or hated the Fireflies¡ªJames just seemed indifferent.


    James kicked a loose pebble into the water running along the side of the tunnel. ¡°So, how¡¯d you get to Boston from Texas?¡±


    Joel deadpanned, ¡°Walking.¡±


    James shot him an annoyed look. ¡°You¡¯re hilarious.¡±


    Joel smirked slightly but said nothing.


    ¡°No, seriously,¡± James continued. ¡°Why leave Texas?¡±


    Joel sighed, his eyes flicking to Ellie briefly. He rubbed a hand over his beard-stubbled jaw, his expression hardening as his thoughts drifted to the past. "After the outbreak Texas wasn¡¯t exactly doing well."


    James waited, sensing that Joel wasn¡¯t the type to talk just to talk, and was actually going to give him an answer. Even Ellie seemed interested in the conversation.


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    Joel¡¯s eyes became a bit distant as he continued. ¡°After the world went to hell, Texas held together for a while. FEDRA set up a QZ in Austin, but it didn¡¯t take long for it to go to shit. They weren¡¯t rationing food right. People started turning on each other.¡±


    Joel exhaled through his nose. ¡°Then the Cartels came.¡±


    That made James blink. ¡°Wait¡ªthe Cartels? Like, drug Cartels?¡±


    Joel grunted, giving a small, humorless chuckle. ¡°When society collapses, doesn¡¯t really matter what you used to do, but if you already knew how to smuggle, how to move things without getting caught, how to control people with fear? Well, you had a hell of a head start.¡±


    James stared at him, processing. ¡°So they just¡­ took over?¡±


    Joel''s expression darkened, ¡°More or less. FEDRA was too weak, too corrupt, and people were starving. The Cartels filled the gap. You needed food? Medicine? Protection? You got it¡ªbut you owed them. And if you didn¡¯t pay up¡­¡± He trailed off, shaking his head. "People started disappearing. Entire families.¡±


    James swallowed. ¡°Shit.¡±


    Joel continued, voice gravelly. ¡°They ran that place like a damn kingdom. Struck a deal with FEDRA that they couldn¡¯t say no to. Had their own ¡®law¡¯ and everything. Controlled the roads, the supplies, the black market. Didn¡¯t matter if you were in the QZ or outside of it. You had to deal with ¡®em.¡±


    James¡¯s mouth quirked slightly. ¡°And let me guess. You didn¡¯t want to deal with them.¡±


    Joel let out a short exhale through his nose, not quite a laugh. ¡°I had a choice: Keep my head down and take orders from people I had no respect for, or get the hell out while I still could.¡±


    James nodded slowly. ¡°And you chose Boston.¡±


    Joel glanced at him. ¡°Didn¡¯t exactly have a map of all the safe cities. Boston had one of the bigger QZs. Seemed like a better bet at the time.¡±


    James hummed in thought, kicking a loose pebble down the damp tunnel as they walked. ¡°Guess nowhere was really a ¡®better bet,¡¯ huh?¡±


    Joel shook his head, voice flat. "Nope."


    Ellie glanced between them before tilting her head at James, a smirk tugging at her lips. "So, you gonna ask me why I left Boston, or do I not get the special treatment?"


    James returned the smirk. "You said you were born there, right?"


    Ellie nodded. "Yeah. It might be super dangerous out of the QZ but at least I don¡¯t have homework anymore." She said with a grin, ¡°God, FEDRA school sucked.¡±


    James snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. ¡°Yeah? How bad could they be? They make you pledge allegiance to the fascist overlords before every meal?¡±


    Ellie rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. They may have been dicks, but at least they held everything together."


    James raised an eyebrow, genuine curiosity flickering in his expression. "You actually defending them?"


    Ellie sighed, shrugging slightly. She knew many, many people hated them but¡­ "Not really. I¡¯m just saying, people love to act like the Fireflies are the good guys, but look at what happens when FEDRA¡¯s gone. Every QZ taken over by the fireflies has gone to shit. Raiders take over, or some psychopath starts playing warlord, and everything becomes worse. At least in the QZ, you had food and shelter. It sucked, but you were at least alive."


    James was quiet for a moment, considering that. "Guess that depends on what you call ¡®alive.¡¯"


    Ellie gave him a sideways look. "And what, you think the alternative¡¯s better?"


    James shrugged, staring at the damp concrete wall as they walked. "I dunno. Maybe? For me, I never would have been able to live there."


    Then, a big grin spread across his face¡ªa look Ellie wasn¡¯t expecting. "The freedom of the outside world is something I wouldn¡¯t trade for anything." His voice had a strange excitement to it, like he truly meant it, like he loved this life.


    Ellie huffed a small laugh, "Yeah, no argument there".


    This kid¡¯s weird, but in a charming way that you can¡¯t help but get sucked into. Ellie probably would not have shared that information with anyone else, but something about James just made her want to trust him.


    James smirked. "So what, were they training you to be the next generation of hardasses or something?"


    Ellie let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Pretty much. They wanted me to be a FEDRA officer one day¡ªkeep the system running, stomp out resistance, blah, blah, blah."


    James tilted his head, curiosity but not judgment crossing his face. "And you considered that?"


    Ellie hesitated, running a hand through her hair. "I mean¡­ I didn¡¯t really have a choice, did I? That was life in the QZ. It was either sign up, or¡ª" She gestured vaguely. "Live as a civilian. And civilians have it much worse. Plus, I was kinda born into the system. Was given to FEDRA as a child."


    James let that sit for a second before tilting his head at her, curiosity still flickering behind his eyes.


    ¡°So if you think FEDRA¡¯s necessary, and the Fireflies aren¡¯t doing a good job¡­ why are you going to them? Why not stay in the QZ?¡±


    Ellie hesitated. She didn¡¯t know how much to tell him, how much she even wanted to tell him. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides.


    Joel, sensing the tension, spoke up before she could.


    ¡°She¡¯s got her reasons.¡± His tone left no room for debate.


    James, however, wasn¡¯t so easily brushed off. He knew the reason, but at the same time he didn¡¯t. He knew Ellie as the video game character, a one dimensional persona on a screen you can¡¯t actually ask questions. He wanted to get to know the Ellie in front of him, "I mean, yeah, but¡ª" He turned back to Ellie. "You could¡¯ve just stayed, right? Why risk your life going across the country for a group you don¡¯t even trust?"


    Ellie rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding his gaze. "It¡¯s complicated."


    James narrowed his eyes slightly, studying her. Then, after a beat, he simply shrugged. "Fair enough. But if it were me? I wouldn¡¯t be risking my life for a cause I didn¡¯t believe in."


    Ellie shot him a look, her expression unreadable. "Yeah, well¡­ maybe I believe in something."


    James held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding, seemingly accepting that answer. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll see.¡±


    The conversation lulled into silence, the weight of reality settling back over them.


    Joel, gruff as ever, muttered, "Alright, enough chattin¡¯. Keep your eyes open."


    The moment was gone. They pressed forward, stepping deeper into the tunnel, the damp darkness swallowing them whole.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    As they pressed deeper into the tunnels, their surroundings shifted subtly.


    Graffiti covered sections of the walls, but unlike the usual old gang tags and warnings, these were newer, fresher. Strange symbol-like markings had been scratched into the concrete¡ªsome resembling simple arrows, others looking like rough lamp-like shapes.


    Joel noticed them too. ¡°Someone¡¯s been down here.¡±


    James ran a hand over one of the lamp symbols, feeling the indentation in the stone. ¡°I¡¯ve seen these¡­ all around the city.¡±


    Ellie frowned. ¡°What do you think it means?¡±


    James shrugged. ¡°Could be directions, could be warnings, or just someone leaving their mark.¡±


    They kept moving, more cautious now, and stumbled across something else.


    They reached an intersection, where two tunnels cross. The place where the tunnels met was a larger space, about the size of a bedroom. The interesting thing though was a stack of rusted supply crates pushed into a corner. They were emptied out, but a few plastic wrappers and old food cans remained, indicating someone had used this as a supply cache.


    Joel crouched down, running a hand over a crate¡¯s surface, his expression hardening. ¡°Someone¡¯s livin¡¯ down here.¡±


    Ellie looked around warily. ¡°Maybe we should¡ª¡±


    Before she could finish, a shriek tore through the tunnel.


    A guttural yell echoed from the passage ahead, followed by the frantic rattling of chains.


    Joel instantly raised his rifle, Ellie and James tensing beside him and raising both of their pistols.


    From the front and right tunnels, four infected lunged toward them, their arms flailing wildly. Joel fired a shot killing one of them. James and Ellie raised their guns and got ready to fire as well but just as they reached striking distance, their bodies jerked to a halt.


    The chains binding them to the walls snapped tight, stopping them inches short of sinking their decayed teeth into flesh.


    Ellie staggered back, eyes wide. ¡°Jesus¡ªwhat the hell?¡±


    James¡¯ heart pounded and he backed up a bit, but his eyes flicked over the setup with interest. ¡°They¡¯re chained up¡­ someone put them here on purpose.¡±


    Joel grimaced, eyes scanning the area warily, ¡°Trap¡±.


    As if on cue, a creaking snap echoed beneath their feet. The infected had forced James and Ellie back into the left tunnel, right onto a rotten wooden board.


    Before either of them could react, the ground suddenly collapsed, the flimsy floor not holding their weight.


    ¡°Shit¡ª!¡±


    James was the first to hit the ground, rolling with the impact as he landed several feet below in a narrow pit of murky water. Ellie landed just behind him, splashing into the shallow pool.


    Joel grunted in surprise, having not fallen into the trap. He rushed over in alarm and looked down the pit, worried for Ellie¡¯s safety ¡°You alright!?¡± he questioned.


    Ellie coughed. ¡°Ugh. Smells like ass.¡±


    James pulled himself up, shaking water off his hands. ¡°I think I just swallowed something that was alive.¡±


    Joel grabbed his flashlight and shined into the dark pit they found themselves in.


    It was small, cramped, and wet. The broken floorboard added to the debris that littered the ground.


    ¡°Alright, Ellie get on Jame¡¯s shoulders, i''m going to pull-¡±


    Before Joel could finish they heard something that caused them to freeze.


    ¡°Hands up pal, I¡¯d rather not shoot¡± A deep voice said followed by the cocking of a gun.

 Chapter 10: The Trap

    Joel scowled and slowly raised his hands, his flashlight still clutched in one. Ellie and James froze, their bodies tensing as they instinctively gripped their weapons tighter.


    ¡°Now, turn around and face me,¡± a voice commanded from the darkness.


    Joel hesitated but did as told, pivoting slowly until he was face to face with a group of four¡ªthree men and one woman. Two of them had rifles trained on him, while the other two held bows with arrows nocked, ready to fire.


    "Now, drop both those rifles and any weapons you¡¯ve got." The man in charge¡ªa broad-shouldered figure with a steady, no-nonsense tone¡ªgave the order.


    Joel¡¯s jaw tightened as his eyes flicked between them, assessing. His fingers flexed slightly before his hands curled into fists at his sides. The woman with the bow noticed his hesitation and, without a word, pulled her bowstring back ominously, the creak of the tensioned wood loud in the silent night.


    Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. Grudgingly, he unstrapped his rifle, lowering it to the ground with slow, deliberate movements. His machete followed, the dull metal hitting the pavement with a soft clank.


    The leader called over his shoulder. ¡°Jordan.¡±


    One of the men with a bow slung it over his back and stepped forward, quickly scooping up Joel¡¯s weapons.


    The leader¡¯s gaze returned to Joel, his lips curling slightly. ¡°Now the kids. Their guns too. Then we can get them out of there.¡±


    Joel¡¯s scowl deepened as he turned his gaze downward to where Ellie and James stood in the pit.


    ¡°Hand me your guns,¡± he ordered.


    Ellie scrunched up her face, looking like she was about to argue, but the sharp look Joel shot her made her rethink it. With a muttered curse under her breath, she grudgingly handed over her pistol.


    Joel bent down and placed it on the ground, then turned to James.


    James shrugged innocently. ¡°I don¡¯t have a gun.¡±


    Joel¡¯s stare hardened.


    Even Ellie looked at him in annoyance. ¡°James.¡±


    ¡°I swear!¡± James raised his hands, grinning. ¡°Search me if you don¡¯t believe me!¡±


    Joel gritted his teeth, but when he turned back to the leader, the man just shrugged indifferently.


    ¡°If he tries anything, all of you are dead,¡± the man said, nodding toward Jordan, who collected Ellie¡¯s pistol.


    Then, with a slight gesture of his hand, the leader motioned to one of his men. A coiled rope ladder was tossed forward, landing in the pit with a soft thud.


    ¡°Hook it up to that ring on the edge,¡± he instructed.


    Joel¡¯s eyes scanned the nearby wall until he spotted a small metal ring jutting out of the concrete. He grabbed the ladder and secured it, giving it a firm tug before stepping back.


    Ellie and James scrambled up quickly, shaking the cold, murky water from their boots as they climbed out.


    The leader gave a small nod. ¡°Search them, Hawk.¡±


    One of the gunmen¡ªa rough-looking guy with a scar across his chin¡ªlowered his weapon and patted both kids down, checking their jackets and boots. After a moment, he scowled.


    ¡°They got nothing but blades.¡± His eyes narrowed as he gestured toward James. ¡°Swear I saw this little idiot with a pistol, though.¡±


    James frowned in annoyance at the insult.


    Ellie and Joel both shot James a look of suspicion.


    Did he stash it? Drop it? Joel¡¯s gaze flicked back to the pit for a moment.


    The leader¡¯s expression darkened slightly, then he nodded toward the hole. ¡°Search the pit. If he dropped it, it¡¯s probably in the water. Don¡¯t take too long. We can always come back.¡±


    Hawk grumbled but obeyed, descending the ladder while the leader turned back to the trio.


    ¡°Now,¡± he mused aloud, crossing his arms as he studied them. ¡°What to do with you?¡±


    His gaze lingered on James, lips curling slightly. ¡°Surprised you¡¯re still alive, honestly, being brain-dead and all.¡±


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    James scowled, bristling. ¡°The hell is you people¡¯s problem? You know me or something?¡±


    The leader frowned back at him. ¡°Course we do. Hard to miss you after you pissed off that horde.¡± He tilted his head. ¡°You¡¯re lucky none of my men died, or I¡¯d have shot you already.¡±


    James shifted uncomfortably, face heating. ¡°It wasn¡¯t on purpose!¡±


    The leader rolled his eyes, amusement slipping into his tone. ¡°Sure, it wasn¡¯t. Still, I didn¡¯t think there was anyone left in Cleveland stupid enough to go into that hospital.¡±


    Ellie smirked at James, who visibly shrank. Probably best not to tell them he¡¯d mostly gone for the thrill rather than any real plan.


    The leader then turned to Joel and Ellie. ¡°I know the dumbass has been in Cleveland for a while. But you two?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°My scouts spotted you coming into the city yesterday. What¡¯s your business here?¡±


    Joel¡¯s eyes flicked to Ellie briefly before answering. ¡°We¡¯re trying to find a safe path west.¡±


    The leader hummed in thought. ¡°West, huh?¡± He tilted his head, watching Joel closely. ¡°And what¡¯s west?¡±


    Joel¡¯s face remained stone-cold. ¡°Our group. We got separated.¡±


    The leader seemed like he was going to push further, but before he could, Hawk climbed back up the ladder, shaking water off his boots with an annoyed grunt.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t find the pistol,¡± he reported.


    Joel and Ellie both turned toward James, suspicion clear in their eyes.


    James just blinked back at them with a faux-innocent expression.


    Joel narrowed his gaze, then mouthed to James: Don¡¯t try anything.


    James rolled his eyes but gave a small nod.


    The leader¡¯s brow furrowed at Hawk¡¯s report, but after a moment, he let out a low sigh and straightened.


    ¡°Alright then. Let¡¯s get these three back to base.¡± His expression turned amused as he added, ¡°Put ¡®em in the pit.¡±


    All three of them tensed.


    The leader chuckled. ¡°Relax. It¡¯s temporary. Till we figure you out.¡± He gestured vaguely. ¡°We don¡¯t plan to kill you¡­ so long as you don¡¯t give us a reason to.¡±


    Joel¡¯s shoulders remained stiff, but he didn¡¯t argue.


    The leader motioned them to follow and turned around and started walking. The rest of his group closed in behind the trio, weapons still loosely at the ready.


    As they walked, the leader glanced back at them over his shoulder.


    ¡°Name¡¯s Akil, by the way. Our group¡¯s called The Lanterns.¡± His lips twitched slightly. ¡°And I¡¯m the one in charge of the base in Cleveland¡±


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    After about thirty minutes of walking, James was getting bored¡ªdangerously bored. He glanced around at the group of Lanterns, his eyes settling on the tall man who had searched for his pistol earlier, Not that they¡¯d ever find my pistol, he thought with a satisfied smirk.


    ¡°So¡­ why do they call you Hawk?¡± James asked casually.


    The man in question tensed immediately, his jaw tightening as if James had just stepped on a landmine. His face scrunched up in annoyance, while the woman next to him let out a surprised laugh. Even Akil and Jordan were smirking, their amusement barely concealed.


    "It¡¯s nothing," Hawk grumbled, his tone clipped and clearly not inviting further discussion.


    James hummed in disbelief, "Doesn''t sound like nothing," he prodded, grinning. "Come on, there¡¯s gotta be a cool story behind a badass name like Hawk.¡±


    Hawk¡¯s scowl deepened, but the growing amusement from his comrades only made it worse.


    "There''s nothing interesting about my name," he insisted, his voice flat.


    The woman with the bow let out another snicker, a glint in her eyes. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that. There¡¯s definitely a story behind it.¡±


    James¡¯s grin widened, sensing blood in the water. ¡°Oh? What is it?¡±


    Hawk whipped his head toward her, eyes full of warning. ¡°Jenna, I swear to God¡ª¡±


    But the woman, Jenna apparently, just ignored him, her smirk stretching ear to ear. ¡°A hawk shit on him. Twice.¡±


    There was a beat of silence.


    Then Jordan lost the battle, a hand clamped over his mouth to stifle a laugh. Akil shook his head in amusement, while Ellie and James burst out laughing.


    "No fucking way," Ellie cackled, doubling over slightly.


    "Twice?" James wheezed. "Dude, that¡¯s not just bad luck, that¡¯s a personal vendetta. That hawk had a grudge.¡±


    Hawk¡¯s brow twitched violently, his fists clenching at his sides. "That was five years ago!" he barked, glaring daggers at Jenna. ¡°Five years, and no one will ever let me live it down!¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Jenna said, grinning wickedly. ¡°It was hilarious.¡±


    Ellie wiped at her eyes, still grinning. "Damn, I was really hoping it was something badass. But no¡ªnature just hates you."


    Hawk groaned loudly, rubbing a hand down his face as his friends laughed at him with complete strangers.


    Joel, as usual, remained silent, but James caught the smallest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.


    Akil finally let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°Alright, enough clowning around. Let¡¯s pick up the pace.¡±


    James fell into step beside Ellie with a grin, still snickering about ¡®Hawk¡¯ under his breath.


    Behind them, Hawk grumbled something about throwing them both in a pit.


    Despite the fact that the Lanterns still didn¡¯t fully trust them, the heavy tension from earlier had dissolved completely. The atmosphere had shifted, the unspoken hostility replaced by something easier, something lighter.


    As the group continued forward, a comfortable silence settled over them, the sounds of their footsteps echoing softly through the tunnel.


    It wasn¡¯t much.


    But it was a start.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.


    Eventually, the group was stopped by Akil, who turned to face them with a firm expression.


    "Alright, we try to stay hidden, so we''re going to have to blindfold you for this part," he said. "Can¡¯t take the risk that you leak information."


    Joel remained stoic as the blindfold was slipped over his eyes. Ellie hesitated for a moment before reluctantly following suit. James, however, just grinned, "This is awesome. Feels like we¡¯re being taken to some top-secret government base."


    Akil let out a short chuckle but didn¡¯t respond.


    They were led forward, stumbling slightly as they adjusted to the darkness. The journey lasted about fifteen minutes, their footsteps echoing in what felt like a tunnel. Then, gradually, the silence began to shift.


    Distant sounds drifted through the air¡ªthe quiet murmur of voices, the rhythmic thud of footsteps, the unmistakable clang of construction. Life.


    A door creaked open, and warmth washed over them. The muffled noise sharpened into clarity¡ªpeople talking in hushed voices, the scrape of tools against metal, the shuffling of movement.


    Finally, they were ushered into a damp room, the air thick with moisture. Their blindfolds were tugged off, and they blinked against the dim light. The room was dark, and clearly a storage closet that had the door replaced with a metal prison door.


    Akil sighed. "Sorry about this," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can tell you aren¡¯t bad people, but I can¡¯t take the risk. You¡¯ll have to stay here for a bit while we figure out what to do with you."


    Joel gave a stiff nod, accepting the situation without protest. Ellie and James exchanged glances, shifting uncomfortably before stepping inside.


    Akil lingered for a moment, nodding once more at Joel before stepping back. The door swung shut, and the unmistakable click of a lock echoed through the small space.


    Silence settled over them, save for the soft flicker of an oil lantern in the corner, casting flickering shadows against the damp walls.


    Joel exhaled through his nose, turning toward James with a frown. "So. Where did you put the pistol?"


    James met his gaze, unreadable for a long moment before shrugging. "Lost it."


    Ellie narrowed her eyes. "Bullshit. I saw you with it when we were in that pit."


    James barely hesitated. "Dropped it somewhere in there during the chaos," he lied, glancing at the pistol stored safely in his inventory out of the corner of his eye.


    Joel let out a low grunt of irritation but didn¡¯t push. Instead, he moved to the chair in the corner and sat heavily, arms resting on his knees.


    Something told him they had a long wait ahead of them.

 Chapter 11: What makes you tick?

    Ellies eye was twitching, her face scrunching up in annoyance.


    The source of her annoyance?


    ¡°Iiiiiiiii¡¯m hooked on a feeling!


    Bum bum bum ba-da-da!


    I''m high on believing!


    Bum bum ba-da bum!!!!


    That you''re in love with mEeeeeEeEeEE!!!!¡±


    She didn¡¯t know how he could be so carefree. They were in a cell for fucks sake! But there he is, singing in a horribly out of tune voice.


    ¡°Girl you got me thirsty!


    For another cup of wiIiIiInnneeeee-¡±


    ¡°WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH THAT HORRIBLE SINGING!¡± Ellie screeched, finally sick of James singing.


    James paused mid-lyric, looking over at Ellie with mock offense, one hand dramatically clutching his chest.


    ¡°Damn, Ellie,¡± he said, blinking innocently. ¡°You wound me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re about to be fucking wounded if you don¡¯t stop,¡± she growled, arms crossed tightly as she glared at him.


    James smirked, clearly unfazed. He let a few seconds of silence pass¡ªjust long enough for Ellie to think she¡¯d won¡ªbefore he took a deep breath and¡ª


    ¡°I¡¯M HOOKED ON A FELLING¡ª¡±


    Ellie lunged.


    James yelped, barely dodging as she swung a fist at his arm. He scrambled back against the wall of the room, laughing as she continued to swat at him.


    ¡°I SAID SHUT UP!¡± Ellie shouted, landing a punch against his shoulder.


    ¡°Ow! Police brutality!¡± James joked, rubbing his arm as he grinned at her. ¡°Is this what FEDRA school taught you? No wonder Joel looks tired all the time.¡±


    Ellie huffed, plopping back down against the cold wall, glaring daggers at him.


    ¡°I swear to God, if you sing one more fucking word, I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°Now I got it baaaaad for youuuuu¡ª¡±


    Ellie threw her boot at him.


    It hit the door with a loud CLANG, and James snorted with laughter, curling up to protect himself from any follow-up attacks.


    ¡°You are the worst,¡± Ellie muttered, grabbing her boot back as she flopped against the wall.


    James just grinned, stretching out and making himself comfortable.


    They had been stuck in this cell for hours now. No food. No water. Just the sound of their own breathing and the occasional murmur of voices from beyond the thick metal door. The boredom was becoming unbearable. James could feel it gnawing at him, scratching at the inside of his skull like an itch he couldn¡¯t reach.


    He sighed, tipping his head back against the wall. Maybe I can just sleep it off. His eyelids drooped. Yeah. That¡¯ll work.


    The door creaked open.


    James jolted awake, instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn¡¯t there.


    A guard stood in the doorway, a wiry man dressed in patched-up clothes that had seen better days. His grip was firm on an old hunting rifle, his eyes scanning them with practiced wariness.


    ¡°Come on,¡± the guard said. ¡°Akil wants to talk to you.¡±


    Joel was the first to stand, his expression unreadable as he adjusted his stance. Ellie followed, cracking her neck as she shook off her boredom. James took his sweet time, stretching dramatically before getting to his feet.


    The air outside the cell was damp and stale, the tunnels beyond barely lit by flickering lanterns mounted along the walls. Shadows danced unnaturally as they moved through the underground maze, each step echoing down the narrow stone corridors.


    This place is bigger than I thought. James took in the walls¡ªold concrete, cracked and damp with moisture, lined with remnants of past use. They were definitely still in the tunnels.


    They climbed a narrow set of stairs, their boots scuffing against the worn-out steps. Finally, they emerged into a room that was clearly once some kind of control center, now turned into a makeshift headquarters.


    A large table dominated the space, its surface covered with maps, scattered notes, and diagrams of the city above. The room smelled of oil, paper, and sweat, a place occupied by people constantly on edge, always planning, always watching.


    Sitting behind the table was Akil.


    His eyes flicked up to meet theirs as they entered. He looked more relaxed than he had earlier, but there was still something calculating in his gaze, like a man sizing up a threat he wasn¡¯t sure of yet.


    Two others stood beside him¡ªa middle-aged man with dark, graying hair, sharp eyes that scanned them like he was reading between the lines of their existence. Beside him, a dusky-skinned woman with brown hair tied back, old glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, her arms crossed in quiet scrutiny.


    Akil offered a faint smile. ¡°Good to see you. I hope your time in the pit wasn¡¯t too bad.¡±


    Ellie rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh yeah. It was a blast.¡±


    Akil chuckled, a hint of amusement in his expression before it faded into something more serious. ¡°Glad to hear it.¡± He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. ¡°Now, before we go any further, we have some tests that need to be conducted¡ªjust to make sure we can trust you.¡±


    Joel¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°What kind of tests?¡±


    Akil turned to the graying man beside him. ¡°This is Peter, our resident psychiatrist.¡±


    Peter nodded once in greeting, his gaze lingering on each of them.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be asking each of you a series of questions to determine what kind of people you are.¡± Akil¡¯s voice took on a hard edge. ¡°Do not lie. You won¡¯t get away with it.¡±


    A heavy silence settled over the room.


    Ellie shifted on her feet, glancing at Joel. James simply smirked, intrigued.


    .-.-.-.-.-.


    The room was cold. Not in temperature¡ªjust in feeling. Like a place where people sat and had things taken from them, one way or another.


    Joel was familiar with rooms like this. He¡¯d been on both sides of the table before.


    The walls were thick concrete, damp in the corners. The only source of light was an oil lantern mounted on the wall, flickering lazily, casting shadows that stretched and curled with every movement. The battered wooden table in front of him was scarred and scratched, a relic from whatever this place used to be.


    Joel sat with his hands resting on his knees, his posture stiff but controlled. He¡¯d been in worse situations.


    Across from him, Peter¡ªthe so-called psychiatrist¡ªsat with a notebook and pen, his sharp, scrutinizing eyes locked onto Joel¡¯s face. The man was older, but not soft. He had the look of someone who¡¯d done his share of surviving. That made him dangerous in a way Joel didn¡¯t like.


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    The door behind Joel clicked shut. A guard lingered by it, rifle slung over his shoulder, watching silently.


    A long stretch of silence filled the room. Peter tapped the end of his pen against the table, studying him like a puzzle he had to figure out.


    Joel just stared back.


    Finally, Peter leaned forward slightly, flipping open his notebook. "You don¡¯t seem like the talkative type."


    Joel didn¡¯t blink. "Ain¡¯t much to say."


    Peter let the words settle before he spoke again. "I¡¯m going to ask you some questions. Answer honestly."


    Joel tilted his head slightly. "And what if I don¡¯t?"


    Peter exhaled, scribbling something down. "Then you leave us no choice but to assume the worst. And I don¡¯t think you want that."


    Joel exhaled through his nose but said nothing.


    Peter straightened in his chair. "Let¡¯s start simple. How old are you?"


    ¡°Fifty five¡± he answered with a grunt.


    The psychiatrist nodded, ¡°Where were you born?¡±


    ¡°Texas¡±


    The simple questions kept flowing before Peter finally straightened up and his countenance turned more serious. ¡°Have you ever killed someone?¡±


    Joel¡¯s face stayed neutral. "Yeah."


    Peter¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. "How many?"


    Joel stared at him for a long moment before answering. "Lost count."


    Peter jotted something down.


    "Do you regret any of them?"


    Joel shifted in his chair, his fingers flexing on his knee. He never liked answering questions. "Some."


    Peter¡¯s gaze flickered with interest. "And the others?"


    Joel leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. His voice was quieter this time, but no less firm. "Ain¡¯t regret somethin¡¯ that needed doin¡¯."


    Peter nodded like he expected that answer.


    "Would you kill again?"


    Joel didn¡¯t hesitate. "If I have to."


    Peter watched him carefully. "You don¡¯t hesitate. That¡¯s interesting."


    Joel let out a humorless chuckle. "You hesitate, you die. Ain¡¯t that how it works?"


    Peter took a moment before flipping the page. "Tell me, Joel. Do you believe people can change?"


    Joel¡¯s expression hardened. His eyes flickered for just a second¡ªsomething shifting behind them¡ªbut then it was gone. "Not really."


    Peter tilted his head. "Not even yourself?"


    Joel¡¯s fingers curled slightly, but he kept his face neutral. "People are who they are."


    Peter tapped his pen against the table. "So you don¡¯t believe in redemption?"


    Joel exhaled slowly. "Redemption¡¯s just a word. People use it to sleep at night."


    Peter nodded, jotting something down again. "Do you believe you¡¯re a good man, Joel?"


    Joel¡¯s gaze turned sharp. "You ask a lotta questions."


    Peter leaned back slightly. "That¡¯s my job."


    Silence stretched between them.


    Finally, Joel sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "No. I ain¡¯t a good man."


    Peter studied him, fingers drumming against the wood. "Do you care?"


    Joel¡¯s voice was quiet this time. "Not anymore."


    The room felt heavier with that answer.


    Peter let the silence hang before flipping another page. "Would you betray someone close to you if it meant survival?"


    Joel¡¯s eyes darkened. "Ain¡¯t got many people close to me anymore."


    Peter¡¯s expression remained unreadable. "And the ones you do?"


    Joel¡¯s fingers clenched into a fist on his knee. "I¡¯d do what I had to."


    Peter nodded. "To protect them?"


    Joel¡¯s voice came out rougher than he intended. "Yeah."


    Peter tapped the notebook. "Even if it meant hurting others?"


    Joel¡¯s patience was wearing thin. "It ain¡¯t about hurtin¡¯ people. It¡¯s about what¡¯s left when the dust settles."


    Peter watched him for a long time before finally closing his notebook.


    Then, just as Joel was expecting to be dismissed, Peter leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Who did you lose, Joel?"


    Joel¡¯s entire body tensed. His fingers twitched, his breath deepened, and something dangerous flashed across his face¡ªsomething raw, something that hadn¡¯t healed.


    Peter didn¡¯t look away. "A child, maybe? A wife? A brother?"


    Joel¡¯s expression turned cold as ice. "That ain¡¯t your business."


    Peter exhaled, tapping his fingers against the wood. He had pushed enough. He had his answer.


    "Alright," Peter said, voice quieter now. "That¡¯s all for now."


    The door opened behind Joel, and the guard stepped aside. Without another word, Joel stood up and walked out.


    As he reached the door, Peter spoke one last time.


    "You say you¡¯re not a good man, Joel. But I think you still want to be."


    Joel didn¡¯t turn around. Didn¡¯t acknowledge it.


    He just stepped out into the hallway.


    .-.-.-.-.-.


    It had been about ten minutes since the interrogation, and Joel was back in the pit, sitting in the same damp, dimly lit room where they had been held before. The conversation with Peter kept looping in his mind, each question lingering longer than he liked. He could still hear the man¡¯s voice in his head, poking at old wounds he had long since buried.


    Joel exhaled slowly, rubbing his hands together absentmindedly as he leaned against the wall. His thoughts drifted to Ellie. How was she holding up?


    The silence was cut short by the distant sound of shouting.


    Joel¡¯s head snapped up, muscles tensing.


    The noise was coming from down the hallway¡ªmuffled at first, but growing louder, more frantic. He stood, moving closer to the door, straining his ears. The walls distorted the voices, but something about the fury in the words made his gut tighten.


    Then, clear as day, he recognized it.


    Ellie.


    Joel¡¯s hands curled into fists. He started pacing, his mind racing. What the hell were they doing to her? Should he break the door down? Try to get to her?


    He was just about to act when the door suddenly burst open.


    Ellie was shoved inside so hard she hit the ground with a grunt.


    But before Joel could react, she was already back on her feet, spinning around like a raging bull.


    She charged the door, fists slamming into the metal with a force that made the whole frame rattle.


    "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU BASTARD! BRINGING UP MY MOM LIKE THAT?!?!" She roared, pounding on the door so hard her knuckles turned white. "GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU COWARD!"


    Joel relaxed a bit, the worry that she had been hurt disappearing as he realized what happened.


    Before she could keep going, Joel grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back.


    ¡°Huh!?¡± Ellie twisted in his grip, startled. ¡°Let me go!¡± She struggled, kicking and trying to shake him off, but Joel held firm.


    ¡°Ellie,¡± he said, his voice low and firm. ¡°Calm down.¡±


    She kept fighting against him for a few more seconds, breath ragged, body tense with fury. But slowly, her breathing steadied. The tremble in her fists lessened, and her muscles stopped shaking under his grip.


    Joel felt her finally stop resisting, and he let go.


    Ellie let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through her hair before slumping against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.


    Joel stood there for a moment, awkward as ever. He had never been good at this¡ªhandling feelings.


    He scratched the back of his neck before finally forcing the words out. ¡°Want to¡­ talk about it?¡±


    Ellie didn¡¯t look at him. For a long moment, she just stared at the floor, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she turned her head away.


    Joel sighed. He didn¡¯t push.


    Instead, he just sat down beside her, waiting.


    The minutes dragged on, the only sounds in the room the distant echoes of people moving beyond the door. The flickering oil lantern cast long shadows across the damp walls.


    Then, after ten minutes of silence, Ellie finally spoke.


    Her voice was quieter now, her usual sharpness dulled. ¡°Wonder how James is doing with the interrogation.¡±


    Joel glanced at her, his face unreadable. He had a feeling the kid would be fine.


    .-.-.-.-.-.-.


    The chair was uncomfortable, the air stale, and James had no doubt this was the kind of place meant to make a person feel small.


    But James didn¡¯t look small.


    He sat with a relaxed posture, leaning slightly back in his chair, eyes flickering around the room with interest. His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, not in impatience, but curiosity. Like he was taking in every detail¡ªthe way the lantern''s light wavered, the subtle dampness in the air, the faint scratches on the wooden table between him and Peter.


    Peter sat across from him, studying him as he had Joel and Ellie, notebook open, pen poised. His gaze was steady, but there was something else there¡ªcuriosity, maybe even caution.


    "Let¡¯s start simple," Peter said, flipping to a blank page. "Where are you from?"


    James blinked, then grinned slightly. "New York."


    Peter nodded, jotting it down. "City or state?"


    "City."


    Peter raised a brow, ¡°Really? Last I heard the city was in ruins. I didn''t think there was anything left there.¡±


    James shrugged non-committedly.


    Peter made another note. "How old are you?"


    "Fifteen."


    Peter glanced at him briefly, as if assessing the answer, before writing it down. "And how long have you been on your own?"


    James tilted his head slightly, considering the question. "Been bouncing around for a while. Probably about a year since I''ve been with people, lost track. Met Joel and Ellie only a day or two ago."


    Peter hummed, his pen scratching against the paper. "And before that?"


    James simply shrugged.


    Peter didn¡¯t press yet. Instead, he turned the page and leaned back slightly. "Alright, let¡¯s move on. Have you ever killed someone?"


    James hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Nope."


    Peter raised an eyebrow. "Not even once?"


    James shook his head, the grin never leaving his face. "Nah"


    "What about infected?"


    James exhaled, his fingers tapping absently on the table. "Oh, plenty of those."


    Peter tapped his pen against the notebook. "Do you regret any of them?"


    James thought about that for a second, his lips pursing slightly. "Not really."


    "Why not?"


    James rocked his leg slightly, his pent up energy catching up to him, ¡°Feel like im doing them a favor honestly¡±


    Peter nodded, ¡°And how do you find yourself dealing with the struggles of being on the road.¡±


    James smiled, ¡°I love traveling,¡± he said.


    That seemed to catch Peter off guard, ¡°Really? Even with all the dangers?¡±


    James nodded happily, ¡°Yeah! If you know how to deal with them you''re not held down by anything.¡± he said, his eyes shining, ¡°It really is beautiful, the world.¡±


    Peter frowned, ¡°Even with all the cruelty out there.¡± he questioned.


    James shrugged, ¡°That¡¯s just how the world works. People live, people die. Some are crueler than others, some are luckier. It all just¡­ happens."


    Peter¡¯s pen stopped briefly, but his expression remained unreadable.


    The man studied the child for a moment longer, interest flickering in his eyes, before moving to the next question. "What was your life like before all this?"


    For the first time, James¡¯ expression flickered¡ªjust for a split second.


    The usual brightness in his face dimmed ever so slightly, and something unreadable passed through his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.


    His answer was casual, like he was talking about the weather. "I was hospitalized for most of my life. Weak immune system, bad lungs¡ªwhole mess of things, really. Spent a lot of time in a bed, waiting around. My parents didn''t really¡­ stick around for all that."


    Peter didn¡¯t interrupt. He just waited.


    James¡¯s face remained neutral, completely unbothered. If he felt anything about it, he didn¡¯t show it.


    Then, almost instantly, his expression brightened.


    "But my grandpa? He stuck by me. He made sure I was taken care of, made sure I didn¡¯t just sit there feeling sorry for myself. Taught me a lot about life, the world¡ªeverything, really."


    Peter took in the shift¡ªthe way James¡¯ whole posture lightened, the way his fingers stopped fidgeting. It wasn¡¯t hard to see that this was the only part of his past that really mattered to him.


    Peter tapped his pen against his notebook again. "And what happened to him?"


    James¡¯s smile faltered, just slightly. But this time, his expression didn¡¯t flicker¡ªit settled.


    "He died."


    Silence hung between them.


    Peter didn¡¯t press further. He didn¡¯t need to.


    Finally, he closed his notebook, studying James for a long moment.


    "Alright. That¡¯s all for now."


    James grinned as he stood up, stretching. "That was fun. Maybe next time, you tell me about yourself, huh?"


    Peter simply nodded toward the door, and the guard stepped aside to let him out.


    As James walked out of the room, Peter remained seated, his pen still resting against the paper, the words he had just written still fresh on the page.


    This one¡­ was different.

 Chapter 12: The Lanterns

    James returned to the pit with little fanfare. Ellie glanced up as he entered, her expression neutral but curious.


    "How''d it go?" she asked briefly.


    James grinned, ¡°It was interesting, I''ve never been interrogated before.¡± Ellie huffed out a laugh, shaking her head.


    That was the end of it. They fell into silence, the dim oil lantern in the corner flickering against the damp stone walls. Minutes passed, stretching into what felt like hours, before the sound of the lock clicking broke the stillness.


    The heavy door creaked open, and in stepped Hawk¡ªthe man with the deep scar cutting across his face. He wore a ragged hoodie, its sleeves frayed at the edges, and had his rifle slung securely across his back. His sharp eyes swept over the three of them before he gave a curt nod.


    ¡°Akil says you¡¯re good to go. You¡¯re free to move around the base¡ªwith a guard present. But when leaving, you¡¯ll need to wear blindfolds.¡±


    James sprang up, grinning. "Really? That didn¡¯t take too long."


    Hawk nodded. ¡°We usually aren¡¯t so trusting, but Peter vouched for you. Haven''t seen that in a while. He must¡¯ve seen something in you.¡± He said with a smile.


    Joel simply grunted in acknowledgment. Ellie raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t question it, she¡¯d thought she blew it.


    ¡°Guess we made a good impression,¡± he said, nudging Ellie. She rolled her eyes but smirked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky,¡± Hawk warned, his tone light but firm, ¡°People are still upset at you stirring up that horde.¡±


    James shuffled awkwardly and they stepped out of the pit and into the winding underground tunnels, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and old concrete. Oil lanterns lined the walls, casting flickering shadows against the walls. Pipes lined the ceiling, some rusted, some newer, evidence of ongoing repairs.


    Hawk led the way, keeping an easy but deliberate pace. ¡°I¡¯ll be with you the whole time you¡¯re here. You don¡¯t leave my sight, or it¡¯s back in the pit. Understood?¡±


    Ellie and James nodded. Joel remained silent, his usual stoic expression in place.


    Hawk took that as enough and continued. ¡°Any questions you have, direct them to me.¡±


    That was all the invitation James needed¡ªhe exploded with words.


    "So, do all of you live underground like mole people? How long have you been here? What¡¯s life like under a city? Is it all doom and gloom, or do you guys have, like, underground parties or something? How do you stay hidden from raiders? Do you have farms down here? How do you get food? What about water? Oh, and where do you get power? Generators? Solar panels? Do you have a medic? What happens if someone gets sick?


    Ellie snorted, watching in amusement as Hawk, clearly unprepared for the rapid-fire interrogation, tried to keep up.


    Hawk held up a hand. "Damn, kid. Slow down. One at a time."


    ¡°Alright, fine. Do you all live underground?¡± James asked, still eager.


    Hawk shrugged. ¡°Mostly. These tunnels go on for miles. Some are old subway systems, others maintenance tunnels or bunkers. We use the surface only when we have to. Staying below keeps us hidden.¡±


    "And food?"


    Hawk scratched at his scruffy chin. "Mushrooms, mostly. They¡¯re easy to grow underground, don¡¯t need sunlight, and we¡¯ve got whole sections of the tunnels dedicated to farming them. They keep us fed. We also hunt when we can¡ªdeer, rabbits, whatever we can track in the city ruins and surrounding area. Meat¡¯s rare, but it helps stretch supplies."


    James¡¯ eyes widened. ¡°Wait, you guys are farming fungus down here? Like¡­ that¡¯s your main food source?¡± He thought people would have an adversity to mushrooms given the current¡­ circumstances but guess not.


    Hawk smirked. ¡°Yeah. Not the most appetizing diet, but it keeps us alive. Hydroponics give us some greens, and we¡¯ve got a few rooftop farms for variety¡ªchickens, goats, small crops¡ªbut those aren¡¯t reliable. Don''t give enough food, and if someone finds them, we lose everything. The mushrooms, though? No one thinks to look for those.¡±


    "And water?"


    Hawk gestured toward a set of old pipes running along the ceiling. ¡°We repurposed parts of the city¡¯s municipal water system, patched it up, and ran it through old filtration units. The system''s falling apart, but we keep it working. No showers, but it¡¯s clean enough to drink.¡±


    James let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn. You guys really are like mole people.¡±


    Hawk chuckled. ¡°Call it what you want. But we¡¯re alive.¡±


    "And medicine?"


    "We¡¯ve got a medic. Supplies are scarce, but we stockpile what we can. Antibiotics, painkillers¡ªstuff that doesn¡¯t expire too fast. We trade when we have to."


    James glanced at Ellie, then at Joel, who remained quiet but observant.


    "And what''s the endgame?" James asked, his tone more curious than confrontational. "You guys just gonna keep running this place forever? Or is there something bigger in mind?"


    Hawk exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. "Survival¡¯s the only endgame that matters."


    James tilted his head, considering that. "Yeah, maybe. But you gotta admit¡ªthis place is pretty damn impressive. People would kill for much less, what do you do when raiders come around?"


    Hawk¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but there was a certain weight behind his words. "We make sure they don¡¯t walk away."


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    James smirked. "Badass."


    Hawk glanced at him but then shook his head. "That doesn¡¯t mean we kill everyone who finds us." He gestured around them. "You¡¯re here, aren¡¯t you? Not every outsider is a threat. Some are just lost. Some have something to offer. We take risks when they¡¯re worth it."


    Joel, arms crossed, spoke up, his voice even but skeptical. "And you think you can pick and choose who finds you?"


    Hawk met his gaze without hesitation. "We only need to stay hidden from certain people. The ones looking to take what isn¡¯t theirs."


    Joel studied him for a long moment. "That kind of thing only works for so long. Someone always comes back looking."


    Hawk gave a small nod, acknowledging the point. "That¡¯s why we control the risks. We don¡¯t trade often, and when we do, it¡¯s on our terms. There are still some decent communities out there¡ªdistant, but worth keeping contact with. If we need something, we send a small team, make sure we don¡¯t bring trouble back with us." He continued, "Raiders are predictable. They take what they can, kill who they have to, and move on. But they¡¯re used to people running, not fighting back from the shadows. We don¡¯t have open streets or flimsy walls. We¡¯ve got tunnels, dead ends, choke points. If they make it inside, they don¡¯t make it out."


    James'' eyes sparkled, ¡°So cool¡­¡±


    Ellie, who had been listening closely, leaned forward slightly. "So you actually trade with other people? What are they like?"


    Hawk shrugged. "Depends. Some are just trying to survive, like us. Others got their own systems, their own rules. We know a few folks running a fortified town out west, real organized, real careful. Then there¡¯s another group living off the land¡ªfarmers, hunters, real self-sufficient types. But they¡¯re far, so contact is rare. We only go when we have something worth trading, and even then, it¡¯s a risk."


    Ellie nodded, clearly interested. "That¡¯s¡­ kinda smart, actually. You¡¯re not just hiding. You¡¯re building something."


    Hawk smirked. "Something like that."


    James let out a low whistle. "Man, you guys are living the dream. Underground bunkers, secret tunnels, guerilla warfare as your whole thing? That¡¯s sick."


    Hawk chuckled. "If you say so."


    Joel remained quiet, watching Hawk carefully, but didn¡¯t argue.


    The tunnels stretched on ahead, winding into the unknown.


    Finally, they reached The Lanterns¡¯ base camp¡ªa sprawling, dimly lit expanse that stretched deep into the underground. The moment they stepped in, the air shifted, carrying the faint scent of oil, damp concrete, and distant wood smoke. The entire space had been repurposed from what was once a massive underground parking garage into a hidden stronghold¡ªa city beneath the city.


    The first thing he noticed was the movement¡ªthis place was alive. Dozens of people wove between makeshift structures, each occupied with some vital task. A group of scavengers unloaded crates of supplies near an old service elevator, while others repaired jury-rigged defenses, welding together metal scraps to reinforce weak points. Near the center, a group of survivors tended to clusters of mushrooms, their pale caps sticking up into the faint light.


    Throughout the garage, tarps and sheets of fabric had been stretched between old cars, propped up by scrap metal and wooden beams to form makeshift homes. Their homes were built from salvaged materials¡ªtarps stretched between cars, wooden beams reinforcing small shacks, pieces of scrap metal repurposed into makeshift walls. Some shelters were nothing more than cots with curtains for privacy, while others had been built into fully enclosed rooms, offering something close to normalcy in the ruins of the old world.


    James even spotted one person that made the back of a broken down semi-truck into a home.


    Around the perimeter, defensive positions had been set up on the upper level¡ªsniper nests and sandbag barricades, where armed guards stood vigilant, their silhouettes barely visible against the dim light filtering in from old floodlights and hanging lanterns. The glow of campfires and powered lamps cast long shadows on the walls, flickering against the rusted remains of abandoned vehicles. Some of those vehicles had been heavily armored, repurposed for both defense and travel, their exteriors reinforced with metal plating and barbed wire.


    In the center of the garage, a large communal area had been set up¡ªan old oil drum burned low with a controlled fire, around which survivors gathered, speaking in hushed voices. Some sat on stacked crates, eating from salvaged tin cans, while others sharpened knives or cleaned weapons in preparation for whatever dangers lurked beyond their underground haven.


    Joel¡¯s eyes traced the layout¡ªthere were multiple routes in and out, but each one was heavily monitored. A wide concrete ramp led lower, descending into an even deeper section of the garage and another ramp that led upward, possibly toward an alternative escape route or a higher level of the garage. Near the far wall, several reinforced doors stood slightly ajar, people moving in and out of tunnels¡ªhauling supplies.


    The Lanterns had turned this place into something more than a refuge. It was organized, efficient, and well-defended¡ªa stronghold in the heart of the ruins.


    Hawk turned to them with a serious frown, ¡°You might not be able to see it, but everyone is tense.¡± he said, shooting a look to James, ¡°The horde you stirred up has people in a frenzy, worried we might get hit, we''ve already had to deal with a couple of the stragglers.¡± he said gruffly, ¡°Now we''re doing our best to stay silent and get our defenses rock solid.¡±


    James shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah¡­ my bad.¡±


    Hawk gave him a pointed look but let out a sigh. ¡°Just be mindful. We don¡¯t get second chances down here.¡±


    He turned on his heel and continued walking, the group falling in behind him as they navigated deeper into the underground settlement. The sounds of voices, the occasional clang of metal against metal, and the rhythmic footsteps of the armed guards echoed through the cavernous space. The deeper they went, the more details of the Lanterns¡¯ way of life revealed themselves.


    They passed by a section where people worked with focused intent. A man crouched over an old generator, adjusting wiring while muttering to himself. Nearby, two women were carefully taking apart a radio, salvaging components, possibly to repair another. A few feet away, a group sat at a long, makeshift table, meticulously sorting through bullets and gunpowder.


    Ellie leaned toward Hawk. ¡°You guys reload your own ammo?¡±


    Hawk nodded. ¡°When we can. We¡¯ve got a few people who know how to repack shells, refill powder. Not perfect, but it keeps our weapons useful.¡± He nodded toward a workbench where a young woman was fashioning crude arrowheads from scrap metal. ¡°Arrows are easier¡ªquieter, reusable. A lot of us prefer them over guns.¡±


    Ellie watched the woman work, clearly intrigued. ¡°Smart,¡± she muttered.


    James, meanwhile, was still absorbing everything with visible admiration. ¡°This place is awesome.¡±


    Hawk gave a half-smile. ¡°We try.¡±


    James laughed, ¡°I can¡¯t believe you guys were under me the whole time!¡± he said.


    They continued forward until the tunnel opened up into a sprawling section filled with more movement and energy than anywhere else.


    Rows of makeshift stalls lined the walls, with survivors gathered in small clusters, trading and bartering for supplies. The scent of roasting meat mingled with the earthy musk of mushrooms and something faintly spiced. A woman stirred a pot over a contained fire, ladling something thick and steaming into tin cups and passing them to people in exchange for batteries.


    ¡°Welcome to the trade market,¡± Hawk said. ¡°Scavengers bring in whatever they find. We barter for what we need. No money here¡ªif it¡¯s useful, it¡¯s got value.¡±


    James¡¯s eyes flicked over the array of supplies. Some stalls were packed with practical items¡ªmakeshift weapons, sharpened knives, modified firearms with jury-rigged attachments. Others offered food¡ªjars of preserved mushrooms, dried meat, root vegetables that had likely come from their hydroponic farms or rooftop gardens.


    But it wasn¡¯t all survival-focused. One stall displayed items that seemed almost out of place: carved wooden figurines, old books, knitted scarves, and crude but carefully made toys.


    James picked up a small, hand-carved wooden wolf from a table, turning it over in his hands. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect a gift shop.¡±


    The older man behind the stall gave him a tired look. ¡°People need more than just food to survive.¡±


    James smiled softly and ran his thumb over the worn grain of the carving before setting it back down.


    Ellie, meanwhile, had stopped in front of another stall, examining a reinforced backpack. The fabric was patched in several places, but the stitching was tight, the straps thickly reinforced.


    ¡°You guys actually make new stuff?¡± she asked.


    Hawk answered as the woman sitting behind the table continued her work, where she was carefully stitching together two pieces of fabric. ¡°Repurpose, mostly. Nothing new in the world anymore.¡±


    Ellie gave a small nod, clearly impressed.


    Joel hadn¡¯t said much as they moved through the market. His eyes never stopped moving, studying the layout. The Lanterns were smart about their security¡ªsniper nests along the upper walkways, tight passageways acting as natural choke points, barricades strategically placed. The armed guards weren¡¯t just standing around, either. They moved with intent, their eyes scanning the crowd, always watching.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a good setup,¡± Joel muttered, his sharp eyes sweeping over the defenses. ¡°Defensible.¡±


    Hawk gave a small nod. ¡°That¡¯s the idea.¡±


    Joel glanced at him. ¡°You think it¡¯s enough?¡±


    Hawk exhaled through his nose, arms crossing. ¡°Enough to keep us alive. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    Joel gave a slow nod but didn¡¯t say anything else.


    Finally, he led them through another passage, into what was clearly a strategic planning room. The walls were lined with maps¡ªroutes, old city blueprints, scavenging paths, known raider movements. A long table sat in the center, covered in hand-drawn notes and rotation schedules for sentries and scouting missions.


    Joel stepped forward, scanning the maps. ¡°You track raider movements?¡±


    Hawk nodded. ¡°We have to. Some groups are starting to get desperate, making their way towards the city. We need to make sure we¡¯re not in their path. All of our citizens are briefed on their actions before they go out to scavenge¡±


    James looked over the notes, tracing a finger over one of the routes marked in red. ¡°Ever think about expanding? Taking more space?¡±


    Hawk smirked. ¡°Expansion¡¯s how people get killed. We hold what we can, nothing more.¡±


    Joel let out a low hum, his fingers tapping the edge of the table. ¡°You got something good here.¡±


    Hawk smiled, but there was something hard behind his eyes, ¡°And we¡¯d do anything to keep it safe.¡±


    Joel stared back for a moment before nodding.


    Hawk looked around for a moment before nodding, ¡°Alright, that''s enough of the tour for now.¡± He said, turning around, ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll show you where you''re staying.¡±

 Chapter 13: You give me I give you

    Ellie sighed as she laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The place they were ¡°given¡±¡ªmore like allowed to stay at¡ªwas pretty nice. Almost as good as her room at FEDRA boot camp.


    They had a couch and¡­ well, that was pretty much it.


    It was obviously some old storage closet that could just as easily double as another cell.


    Outside, Hawk stood guard, arms crossed, keeping a silent watch. Inside, Joel was laying out two sleeping bags¡ªone for himself, one for James. They had been given their stuff back, besides their guns, which still rubbed Ellie the wrong way.


    She had been given the couch, much to her protest. She figured it would be better on Joel¡¯s old bones, but he had just glared at her and told her to stop complaining. She had puffed out an annoyed breath, but¡­ she had to admit, the couch was actually pretty comfortable.


    James, meanwhile, was checking out an ancient locker in the corner that had been rusted shut. He¡¯d been trying to pry it open for the past ten minutes, alternating between grunting, cursing, and pulling at it like sheer determination would magically break through the rust.


    "Almost got it," he muttered, digging his fingers into the seam and yanking with all his strength.


    Joel, without looking up, sighed. "You''re wasting your time."


    James grinned, wiping sweat off his forehead. "No, see, you gotta believe in the process."


    Ellie rolled her eyes. ¡°The process looks a whole lot like failure.¡± she added, but James just ignored her and went back to trying to open the stupid locker.


    Sighing in annoyance she decided the atmosphere in the room was super boring and pulled out her favorite book.


    The past couple of days had been so stressful she hadn¡¯t even had the chance to think about it¡ªNo Pun Intended: Volume Too.


    If there was a Volume One, she was putting it on her bucket list.


    Flipping open the book to a random page, she asked aloud, "You guys hear about the claustrophobic astronaut?"


    James and Joel both stopped what they were doing, looking at her in confusion.


    Joel groaned loudly the second he saw what she was holding.


    James, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Uh¡­ no?¡±


    Ellie grinned. ¡°He just needed a little space.¡±


    James let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. Joel sighed, muttering something about regretting everything, and went back to adjusting his sleeping bag.


    Encouraged by James¡¯ laugh, Ellie flipped to another one.


    "I once had a fear of speed bumps¡­ but I¡¯m slowly getting over it."


    James laughed loudly and Ellie smiled, pleased with herself.


    It had been a long time since someone actually laughed at her jokes. Since someone appreciated them the way Riley used to¡ª


    Her smile faltered for just a second.


    No.


    She cut off the thought before it could take root.


    Instead, she kept reading, determined to not think about that memory.


    She flipped the page and cleared her throat, already grinning. "Okay, okay¡ªthis one¡¯s really good¡ª¡±


    .-.-.-.-.-.


    The next day, the trio found themselves walking through the market again under Hawk¡¯s watchful eye. The underground space was just as alive as the day before, but now, with the knowledge that they''d be leaving soon, James tried to take in everything¡ªas if attempting to etch every detail into his memory.


    The sheer scale of it all was staggering. The tunnels stretched far beyond what he¡¯d initially thought, snaking through repurposed subway stations, abandoned maintenance shafts, and forgotten infrastructure that had been carefully reconstructed into something functional.


    It was incredible.


    They weren¡¯t armed on the same level as FEDRA, but it was clear they weren¡¯t defenseless, either. Most of the guards carried guns¡ªsome old, some modified¡ªand they moved with the ease of people who had been doing this for years. Every now and then, James spotted one of their vehicles, beaten-down but still running, likely used for supply runs or trade.


    But what fascinated him the most wasn¡¯t the firepower or the organization¡ªit was their economy.


    People traded freely, bartering supplies, tools, weapons, or even favors. A man offered repairs on salvaged clothing in exchange for extra rations, while a woman handed over a handful of handcrafted bullets for what looked like a small, well-maintained flashlight. There were even businesses down here¡ªpeople making things, crafting tools, sewing clothes, repairing items, and even carving figurines just to trade for something useful.


    They weren¡¯t just scavengers. They had built a society.


    James turned to Hawk, curiosity burning in his expression. ¡°So how many people actually live here?¡±


    Hawk glanced at him with a contemplative frown before answering. ¡°Over a thousand.¡± His voice was steady, certain. ¡°But this isn¡¯t our only community.¡±


    James¡¯ eyebrows shot up, grinning in surprise. ¡°Wow! How do you guys stay hidden so well? I¡¯ve seen people around the city while I was here, but I always thought they were just drifters or small groups.¡±


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    Hawk gave a small nod. ¡°That¡¯s intentional.¡±


    James listened intently as Hawk continued.


    ¡°The people in our community who want to go out and scavenge have to make a request. If they get approved, they¡¯re debriefed on how to act.¡± His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it. ¡°They aren¡¯t allowed to mention The Lanterns.¡±


    James tilted his head slightly, intrigued. ¡°What if someone asks where they¡¯re from?¡±


    ¡°Then they lie.¡± His expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Anyone outside these walls thinks we¡¯re just another group of drifters. No one travels in packs big enough to draw attention, no one returns to the same places too often, and if someone starts asking too many questions¡­ they don¡¯t get the answers they¡¯re looking for.¡±


    Ellie, who had been listening closely, narrowed her eyes. ¡°And what if someone finds this place?¡±


    Hawk¡¯s gaze met hers, unreadable. Then, with a small shrug, he gestured to the tunnels around them. "You saw how we brought you in. We keep entrances hidden, change our routes. If someone finds a way in, we collapse it. We¡¯ve got the advantage down here. And if we have to¡­ we make sure they don¡¯t leave.


    James and Ellie stared at each other and grinned, ¡°So cool¡­¡± They muttered, making Hawk shift awkwardly.


    Joel, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up, his tone neutral but firm. ¡°Is there still a group of hunters operating out of Kentucky? The Vultures?¡±


    Hawk¡¯s expression shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied Joel. ¡°¡­How do you know about them?¡±


    Joel ignored the question, his gaze steady. ¡°So they¡¯re still there,¡± he muttered to himself before looking back at Hawk. ¡°You guys trade anything useful down here, right?¡±


    Hawk nodded, still watching him closely. ¡°We do.¡±


    Joel sighed, running a hand down his face before exhaling. ¡°I can give you information on them¡­ in return for something useful in exchange.¡±


    Hawk¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t leave his. ¡°And how exactly do you have information on them?¡±


    Joel hesitated for a beat before running a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening slightly. ¡°¡­I¡¯ve had dealings with them in the past.¡±


    Hawk didn¡¯t respond right away. He studied Joel carefully, his expression thoughtful, as if weighing him, trying to decide what kind of man he was dealing with.


    Finally, he exhaled through his nose and gave a small nod. ¡°I can¡¯t make any promises, but I can take you to Lola. She¡¯s in charge of information around here.¡±


    Without another word, he gestured for them to follow.


    The trio trailed behind him as he led them through several tunnels, weaving deeper into the underground stronghold. They passed through dimly lit corridors, where the low murmur of conversation and the occasional clang of tools against metal filled the air. Eventually, they stepped into a room overlooking part of the underground garage¡ªa small, cluttered space that smelled faintly of old paper and machine oil.


    A desk sat near the far wall, buried under scattered notes and stacks of paper, with a radio sitting among the clutter, its antenna bent at an awkward angle.


    Behind the desk sat a woman James immediately recognized. She had been standing beside Akil and Peter when they were first brought in for testing. Dusky-skinned, sharp-eyed, and composed.


    Hawk rapped his knuckles against the doorframe to get her attention.


    ¡°Lola.¡± His tone was respectful but direct.


    The woman¡ªLola, apparently¡ªlooked up and gave him a brief nod before turning her gaze toward the trio.


    ¡°What are they doing here?¡± she asked curtly, eyes narrowing slightly.


    Hawk tilted his head toward Joel. ¡°Joel here says he¡¯s got information about the Vultures he wants to trade.¡±


    At that, Lola¡¯s brow lifted slightly, her interest piqued. She turned her full attention to Joel, her gaze assessing. ¡°What kind of information? And how do you have it?¡±


    James leaned against the doorframe, watching the exchange with mild interest. She seems no-nonsense.


    Joel crossed his arms, his expression as unreadable as ever. ¡°How they work. Their tactics. How they pick their targets. Stuff of that nature.¡±


    Lola¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. ¡°And? How exactly did you come by that information?¡±


    Joel¡¯s face remained neutral. ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    A pause. Lola studied him for a long moment, her expression giving away nothing.


    ¡°¡­I suppose not.¡± She finally answered, leaning back slightly in her chair. ¡°And what do you want in return?¡±


    Joel didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Information on a safe passage west. And two weeks¡¯ worth of supplies.¡±


    Lola tapped her fingers against the desk, considering.


    ¡°We can give you information on a safe route.¡± Her voice was even, measured. ¡°But as for supplies¡­ that depends on how useful your information actually is.¡±


    Joel nodded, ¡°Fair enough, how do you want to do this?¡± he asked.


    She shrugged, ¡°Right here and now. You tell me the information and i¡¯ll get you a map with a safe passage west.¡± she answered.


    Joel nodded before turning to look at James and Ellie, ¡°Go wait outside¡± He told them.


    Ellie looked ready to protest but a firm look from Joel shut her down. James, less invested, simply shrugged and followed.


    "Don''t go too far," Hawk called after them as they stepped into the hallway.


    Ellie didn''t even turn around as she shot up a middle finger in response.


    Hawk sighed. "Charming."


    .-.-.-.-.-.


    Ten minutes later, Joel stepped out of the room, tucking a folded map into his jacket. His gaze flicked around, searching for Ellie and James, and it didn''t take him long to find them.


    They were sitting on the ground near a dimly lit wall, playing some kind of hand game.


    Ellie had her hands positioned underneath James'', both of them locked in an intense staring contest. Then, without warning, she snapped her hands up, trying to slap the back of his.


    She missed.


    James grinned as he smoothly yanked his hands away at the last second, his reflexes just a little faster than hers. Ellie scowled.


    Joel could already tell this had been going on for a while.


    James swapped positions, putting his hands under hers. He faked an upward slap, causing Ellie to flinch and yank her hands back instinctively¡ªonly to realize a second too late that she''d been tricked.


    ¡°Oh, you little¡ª¡± she started, but before she could fully recover, James immediately slapped the back of her hands with a loud smack.


    Ellie jerked back with an outraged yell.


    "FUCK!" she shouted, grabbing her stinging hands as James laughed like a bastard.


    Joel could already tell she¡¯d been losing a lot based on how red the back of her hands were.


    She looked about half a second away from punching James in the face, so Joel cut in before things got out of hand.


    ¡°Enough,¡± he called out, his voice firm but not harsh.


    Both Ellie and James looked up at him.


    Joel exhaled, adjusting the strap of his bag. ¡°I got the map. We¡¯ve secured two weeks of supplies. We¡¯ll stay one more night, then we¡¯re leaving Ellie.¡±


    Ellie, still rubbing the back of her reddened hands, frowned at how he singled her out. ¡°What about James?¡±


    At her words, James finally looked up at him, waiting for an answer.


    Joel shrugged, indifferent. ¡°I¡¯m sure the Lanterns will take him.¡±


    Ellie gawked. ¡°No way! He¡¯s coming with us!¡±


    Joel¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°Ellie, we have a mission. We can¡¯t just bring more people along. You remember what happened last time, right?¡±


    Ellie didn¡¯t even hesitate. She turned sharply, locking eyes with James.


    ¡°I¡¯m immune.¡±


    Joel¡¯s entire body stiffened. ¡°Ellie!¡± he barked, his tone edged with warning.


    But she was already rolling up her sleeve, shoving her arm toward James. ¡°Check it out,¡± she said, pointing at the bite mark. ¡°I was bit months ago, but I¡¯m perfectly fine.¡±


    James leaned forward, his usual grin replaced by curiosity. He inspected the faded scar with clear intrigue.


    Ellie continued, her voice even, ¡°We¡¯re heading to Wyoming to find Joel¡¯s brother. He used to run with the Fireflies, and Joel thinks they might be able to figure out a cure by studying me.¡±


    James blinked, taking a moment to process it all.


    Joel groaned loudly, running a tired hand down his face, his patience officially shot.


    James, meanwhile, grinned like she had just offered him VIP seats to the end of the world. ¡°Awesome. I¡¯m in.¡±


    Joel threw his arms up in frustration. ¡°Fine! He can come!¡±


    Ellie and James grinned wildly, practically buzzing with excitement as they dapped each other up, like two kids who just got away with something.


    But before they could celebrate too much, Joel¡¯s voice cut through their moment like a blade.


    ¡°But!¡±


    The sharpness in his tone snapped James¡¯ attention back to him.


    ¡°I have rules.¡± His eyes locked onto James, his expression unyielding.


    James straightened, the humor in his face dimming slightly, but he nodded.


    ¡°You follow exactly what I say, when I say it. No ifs, ands, or buts.¡± Joel¡¯s voice was firm, unwavering. ¡°You don¡¯t mention Ellie¡¯s condition to anyone. Ever. And you don¡¯t risk our lives for any of your ¡®fun¡¯.¡±


    His gaze hardened.


    ¡°You already almost got us killed because you wanted to go to an infested hospital for shits and giggles. No more of that.¡±


    James¡¯ grin faded slightly, and a smidgen of guilt seemed to cross his face for a moment before he nodded.


    He saluted lazily, smirking. ¡°Got it, boss.¡±


    Joel¡¯s eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything else, James turned back to Ellie, his grin fully returning as they started chattering again, their energy infectious and carefree.


    Joel exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he followed after them.


    None of them noticed the movement.


    A few feet away, near the cracks in the floor, something stirred in the dark.


    A thin, wiry tendril of orange fungus snaked up from a jagged split in the concrete. It twitched, almost sensing something, stretching toward the air.


    It wriggled, pulsing, as if testing its surroundings.


    Reaching.


    Searching.