Before Winter Comes [ze_kraken x Morgan]



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"Yeah, another for the collection," Ethan scoffed, attempting to offer a laugh and coming short.

He leaned back against the bed, gnashing his teeth to dull the agitation and pain that steadily thrummed through his veins. He shut his eyes and attempted to cast the pain aside, but to no avail. It seemed that, along with the emotional weight of losing Haven, this physical reminder would persist for a while too. Ethan gingerly probed his injury along his chest, wincing at the touch. The skin was red and swollen at the edges, but the real danger would be infection. Bacteria could kill faster than a lurker's bite without the medicine to combat it, and Ethan had no intention of coming this far to fall victim to some base infection.

Without much conscious effort, Ethan pulled his clothes back on, being sure to avoid brushing up against his newly sealed wounds. The craving for a cigarette crashed over him as soon as he finished dressing himself, but there were none around for him to light. In his rush to leave Haven, he had neglected to pack them. The need sent pangs of equal parts agitation and mania through him, fingers twitching as he fruitlessly searched through his pack. There truly was not a single line of tobacco anywhere.

Defeated, Ethan submitted to this added weight atop everything else. In that moment of defeat, the wave of cravings subsided but was swiftly replaced by the loss of Haven. Will's limp body, the way Markus had collapsed to the ground. They had been, if not friends, at least constant, physical reminders that Haven had after a fashion become home. Home in more ways than the camp in Maryland had been. Those had been strangers, potential threats. They were things Ethan had patrolled, not people he had grown to know. When the lurkers had come up from New York after being drawn out by the military's withdraw, swarming their little quarantine camp, the faces of those that had risen again were not familiar. Ethan could have scarcely told recently fallen friend from stranger, save for the tone of their skin.

Ethan heard the lurkers below and shuddered. Few lurkers had human skin anymore - it was pallid and grey, sunken now. Some were outright starting to decay, becoming sleepers in a comatose state. Perhaps a few more would soon, he reflected bitterly as he thought of the survivors fleeing Haven coming upon lurkers. He dreaded finding familiar faces among the dead in the coming days. He rested his forehead in his hands and swallowed back tears, perking up as he heard sniffles. He jolted up, expecting someone to come tumbling through the doorway. When none came, he turned and noticed Riley weeping atop the bed.

What did he do? He had seldom bothered to keep up with grieving companions - he had always had the option to push them aside. It had been years since he had cried over the deaths of others, and he wondered if he ever would again. If Haven did not bring him to tears, he thought, it was unlikely anything else might.

Ethan cautiously approached Riley, slipping next to her and gingerly wrapping an arm around her shoulder. It felt the right thing to do, even if his movements dragged ever so slightly as he hesitated. Steadily, he let Riley lean into him, sparing a glance down at her as she wept. He had been like her once, when this had all started. When his town had been uprooted and moved up to Maryland's quarantine camp. When many had fallen ill before the crisis started. The ones that had died on the road. It had hardened him, killed a part of him. The very part Riley showcased now - that of a human, and not a survivor.

"Hey," he whispered softly, casting the thought aside. "Hey, hey..."


 
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His warmth and his arm around her offered comfort, but it did nothing to still her crying. The tears wouldn't stop coming. Riley trembled as she let go and cried into his shoulder. She leaned into him and hid her face, though she didn't feel embarrassed. She felt... Empty and aching all at the same time. There was a pain in her chest, caused by the loss of everything. Of Haven. But behind that pain, there was a deep emptiness. She felt hollow inside. Part of her had been torn away violently and now left a void in her heart. Riley didn't know what to do - she wasn't in control as she sat there crying. She needed some of the pain out and she would cry until she could stop it because right now, it was not up to her. Her right hand reached up and tugged at the collar of his shirt gently, as if she was afraid of losing Ethan as well. He was there and he was real. He was warm and alive. Tjeu were alive.
Eventually, her quiet crying became sobs that became sniffling again. Riley managed to stop the tears and slowly leaned away from him, though she dared not raise her eyes to look at him. She wiped at them with her sleeve, took a few deep breaths and cleared her throat. This was relatively new to her. It had been a long time since she had such a reaction; since she had cried so hard. Perhaps she wasn't so strong. Like Ethan. He had been cut and stabbed at, stitched without anything for the pain and he wasn't crying. Suddenly she felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry." She said, voice rusty and rough. She looked up at him for the briefest moment, her brown eyes red from crying. She covered her mouth with her sleeve and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She wiggled her toes and brushed a strand of hair back behind her ears. "I'm sorry." She repeated, not sure what else to say. "Thank you... For..." She gestured at him and then sighed at herself.
The sun was casting its light on the morning and seemed to make their recent trials all the more clear. Riley was tired and aching and wanted to sleep. The lurkers outside could be heard from time to time, but if that was all they did she could sleep. She was still worried that they might have been followed and that the raiders would find them, but she had to rest. She wasn't sure she could go on at that moment. Besides, she hadn't the slightest idea of where to go. Neither of them knew where to go from here. "We should probably get some sleep." Riley eventually suggested, this time looking up at Ethan for a few seconds.
 


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"Rest sounds nice," Ethan agreed, shifting to leave Riley the bed, unsure how else to respond.

He had not acted out of some obligation to Riley - there was just a part of him that urged him to be there for her, a part of him he had not felt in a while. Was this what it was like to genuinely care for someone else? Ethan had not felt this way, even with Tom or Eliza back in Haven. His obligations to them were instrumental - he always saw an end in mind, but with Riley...

That's it, he told himself as he retrieved his bedroll from pack and rolled it out. You're official too tired.

As Ethan removed his shirt and laid it beside the bedroll along with his boots, he turned back towards the bed and cleared his throat.

"Hey, uh, Riley," he croaked, voice cracking momentarily. "We'll make it through ok - I'm sure it hurts right now, but you made it. You gotta take it day at a time, and it'll get easier. I..."

He paused. What was he trying to get at? He mentally shook himself, trying to collect his train of thought again; he needed a cigarette.

"Yeah. Just, get some rest - we'll talk more when we're both awake."

Ethan curled up tight into his bedroll and tried to cast the need to smoke aside. He tired to suppress the images of fallen citizens of Haven, and the spillover from others he had lost. Quelling with his demons, Ethan barely noticed his sheer exhaustion win out over his turbulent mind and slip into a labored, restless slumber. He tossed and turned, frequently being wrenched from sleep drenched in sweat from a nightmare before shifting uneasily back into sleep's embrace.

When the need to sleep passed, it was morning again. Ethan stirred as new light filtered in from the windows into the bedroom and roused himself to his feet, holding a hand up as the sun's rays temporarily blinded him. When sight returned, Ethan spotted Riley laying in bed, back facing him. He stood for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed in and out. Not wishing to disturb her just yet, he fished around his bedroll and put his shirt back on, wincing as the fabric rubbed over his stitching and the stinging pain and itching resumed.

And here I had forgotten about it, Ethan thought as he began to search through the apartment.

There was little worth taking, and Ethan feared to make too much noise searching for fear of the lurkers down below. He could hear them plain as day, grunting and moaning to communicate their position to one another. That had always made Ethan feel uneasy - there was a rudimentary intelligence at work when lurkers prowled, one he had documented several times along his travels. They knew how to set ambushes, and flank prey by working in groups. For a while, he had wondered if the person was still "in there", but he had seen too many friends open their eyes again with nothing but their predatory instincts intact to truly believe that lurkers were anything more than beasts.

Casting the ever-present threat of the lurkers aside, Ethan continued searching the second floor of the townhouse. He found scatterings of cloth and a thick winter jacket that might fit Riley, though he wagered with how skinny he had become since arriving at Haven that it might fit him too. Regardless, he returned to the room to find Riley starting to wake up. It was an odd contrast, he noticed - the pleasant, familiar noises of one rising from bed against the backdrop of prowling lurkers.

"Mornin'," he said, figuring it best to avoid mentioning Haven as he continued speaking. "Found you a jacket in one of the closets, figured you might need a change of clothes for when it gets colder."


 
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Somewhere in the distance she had heard his footsteps upstairs. She slowly woke up. Memories from the day before came flooding back. Riley yawned and rubbed her eyes. She didn't want to dwell on it now. When she had cried before they went to sleep, Ethan had been there and held her. As if it been natural to him. It had surprised her, as conversation sometimes seemed an awkward thing for him. At least when they were first paired up to go to Coker Creek. Riley hadn't wanted him to go and sleep on the floor. It made her feel bad that she had taken the bed and he, wounded, had to sleep in his bedroll. She had wanted to hug him and pull him close for comfort, despite the fact that they weren't particularly close. But he was human and he was there and she needed it. Riley sat up.
"Good morning." She replied. It actually was morning. They had slept for a long time. It didn't surprise her - the had probably needed it. Riley swung her legs over the side of the bed and stuck her feet in her boots. She had fallen asleep with almost all her clothes on. She offered him a smile, stood and approached him. She took the jacket and looked it over. It was in decent condition and would definitely be good for when it got colder. It was more and more chilly every day. They had to find something for him too. In fact, fresh clothes should be a priority. "Thank you." Riley said, though she felt bad again. As if she owed him so much. She put it on, adjusted the collar and nodded. "Fits perfectly." She said, took it off, folded it up and crammed it into her backpack. She'd save it for now.
Riley's voice was clear but low. There were lurkers outside and she dared not alarm them. She wondered how they were going to get out of the house and out of danger, but that was a task for later. Riley began working her hair into her signature braid, looked at Ethan's chest and then back up at him. "How is the wound? Want me to take a look at it?" She remembered the other one. "Them." She added, indicating his leg with a nod of her head. Her fingers worked deftly at the braid and soon it was done neatly as always. She put on her old jacket, tied her shoes and straightened. They'd have a rough day ahead of them, so she might as well prepare for it mentally.
"I hope you slept alright." She felt a pang of guilt again. "Next time, don't take the floor. If there is a next time." Who knew if they'd ever sleep in a bed again. She deliberately didn't consider the events of the past twenty four hours, or what their future would bring for fear of breaking again. At the moment, she felt a little hollow inside, but that was okay. For now. Riley had to, for both their sakes, to stay strong and focused. They needed to plan how they would get out of their predicament. Ethan couldn't be dragging a weak, crying woman around. It would get him killed.
 

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If there is a next time. Though Riley had likely meant the next time in a bed, the words sent shivers down Ethan’s spine. Life had been far from guaranteed in Haven, and now their chances were slim. He brushed the thought off, clearing his throat to speak.

“Cuts are fine,” Ethan croaked. “I’ll keep an eye on them, might be we can find some alcohol somewhere to keep them clean - and the floor was fine, I…”

Why had he left her the bed? Was it out of some old world courtesy, that because she was a woman and he was a man that there were connotations? Who would care? The lurkers? Amused at his lingering habits from a life long gone, Ethan seated himself cross-legged, leaning his back up against a wall as he examined Riley.

“-Nothing. How are you holding up?” He asked - it was what you asked, after all, of people you knew, and Ethan did not want another stranger haunting him on the road.

She nodded. They had to keep an eye on them, but Riley knew herself well enough to be sure that she would watch him like a hawk and take care of his injuries. Both of them knew that in their world, diseases and injuries and infections that were thought of as only a slight nuisance before the fall of everything, could be life-threatening. So she would take care of Ethan. He was her only human connection now.

He avoided the topic of where he slept. Perhaps next time, he would forget about courtesies. They were adults and they had for more pressing concerns than the potential awkwardness of sleeping in the same bed. But Riley couldn't help smiling a little. Next time.

"I'm okay." Truthfully, she wasn't entirely fine. But she manages to control her emotions for now. She still had that empty feeling in her chest, but she wasn't numb. Besides, they had a goal. They had to survive. "It just feels… It'll get easier." Riley looked at him and sat down on the bed. "I'm just glad I'm not alone."

“I’ve been through it before, it will get easier,” Ethan reassured Riley, scratching at his chin with thumb and forefinger as he chose his next words. “It won’t be tomorrow, or the day after that. It might take a year, but it’ll get easier - we’ve got each other, and that’s more than I had.”

When Ethan blinked images of Laura being set upon by lurkers and Markus falling to the stakes flickered and left, as grainy as an old film and snuffed out quick as a candle in a stiff breeze. He shuddered, passing it off as shifting his hand from his chin to running it through his hair as inner demons became cravings to smoke. Perhaps Riley would be the one to outlive him, he wagered - picking up a smoking habit again in Haven had been a mistake. One he would have to live with now, though.

As the silence between them extended, Ethan snapped back to attention.

“Right,” he began. “Way I see it, we should only take one more night here at most - I don’t like the thought of being one day’s march from Haven, but might be there are some supplies in the town we can snag before we head out on the road. Question is, though, where do we go once we’re done here? I know we said south…”

He paused.

“...two days ago,” time had felt unreal in the past day and a half. “But is that still our bet?”

"I don't have any better suggestions." Riley said with a shrug and a shake of his head. She glanced at her backpack but didn't move. She had seen how something had flickered in Ethan's eyes, after he had tried to reassure her. It had worked. She knew he was right but also knew that it would take time to get used to.

When serious and sensitive topics like that were brought up, it was impossible not to focus on his face. It didn't seem like it was easy, to Ethan, but Riley so enjoyed to watch him try to talk about it. She didn't get the impression that he found it awkward, no, it was clear that there was painful experience behind much of his advice. She appreciated his words.

"Maybe we should go for supplies now, prepare and see if we can't find some food?" Riley nodded. "We can take a look at my map later. South sounds good though, especially since winter is coming and coming fast." If they didn't find a permanent place to live, that provided shelter and warmth, they would be in serious trouble once freezing temperatures set in. Perhaps they could make it far enough South sometime, that freezing wouldn't be a problem.

“Alright, you feeling good to step out?” Ethan asked, looking her over. “From the sounds of it, we won’t be alone - if you don’t want to take out to the streets, I can go and you can cover me with the crossbow from that window.”

"Yeah." She said under her breath, nodding. "No I'm good. I'll come with you."

Even though I was dangerous out there, it would do her good to get some air. Especially if they were to spend the rest of the day in a dilapidated house, going outside might just make that bearable. Riley reached into her backpack and took out her knife, strapped it to her belt and turned to face Ethan.

"I'm ready."


 
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Armed with a crossbow and her knife, Riley stood at the front door to the house, Ethan behind her. Lurkers were outside and shuffling around, but if they could take a few down without alerting others that'd be for the best. If they had to, that was. Anxiety flared as her hand unlocked the door and it went to rest on the doorhandle. She took a few seconds before she nodded, looked back at Ethan to see if he was ready and then opened the door. What startled her the most when she took a careful step outside, was the sunlight on her face. The air had a bite to it, but the warmth from the sun made it pleasant. She shouldered the crossbow and looked around. On the other side of the street were more houses and more alleys, where plenty of the dead could be waiting for them. Looking up either direction of the street, she spotted on off to the right though it seemed to not have noticed them. She lowered her weapon and stepped down onto the cracked pavement.

"Perhaps we could start with those three?" Riley pointed to three houses on the other side of the street. One had been red with a white door once, but now it was faded and falling into disrepair. Judging by outwards appearence, she had little hope that it would contain anything of use to them. Riley was mainly concerned about food, for the time being. Riley wondered if they should try their hand at hunting, if they had no luck searching house. But that meant going into the woods and what risk would that pose? Would they be free game for the undead? She shook those thoughts out of her head and put her mind to the task at hand instead.

Riley walked with Ethan across the street, listening intensely for any sound that might be a threat. At the foot of the stairs to the first house, Riley froze and held the crossbow tighter. A serious of grunts could be heard from somewhere behing the house. Two or maybe three individuals if she were to venture a guess. But nothing happened. Nothing came barrelling around the corner to charge them. So far so good. Riley sighed and relaxed a little again, starting up the steps to the house in front of them.

It wasn't until they reached the door that it occurred to her that it might be locked. Riley glanced at Ethan, shrugged and reached out to try the door handle. She pushed but it didn't open. It had cracks, though, and it didn't seem sturdy. It was rotting and weak. Riley looked at her companion. "We can break it down. It's pretty rotten." She said and shrugged. Her eyes wandered the rest of the house facade. There was a window as well and that didn't seem sturdy either. The pane was rotting, but the glass itself was intact, much to her surprise. Riley walked toward it and examined the pane. It was crumbling when she poked at it with her finger. Time and rain had not been kind to the wood. She secured the trigger of her crossbow and took the bolt off, threw it over her shoulder and put her hands to the window. For a few moments she stood and pulled at the window with little result. Then she heard a cracking sound and the wood around the latch broke on the inside. "I got it!" She exclaimed in a whisper. She took out her knife and turned to Ethan. "I'll get you in." She said, pointing at the door. Then she turned back around and swung her leg inside.

It smelled dusty and old inside the house. There was a fine layer of dust on everything and some of it was caught in the air, as rays from the sun filtered in through the windows. Riley lingered for a moment, listening. It seemed quiet, but she wasn't going to drop her guard. She headed toward the front door, turned the lock and pulled the door open with some effort. The hinges were a little rusty and unwilling. Now that Ethan was with her, she felt a little more safe. She had seen him handle a weapon and felt a lot more confident with him at her side. She had her knife, but that meant close combat. She reminded herself to stab at the head.
 
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Ethan followed close behind Riley as they made their way to the first house, handgun in one hand, knife in the other. He had left the rifle with the bulk of their belongings back at camp: it was too noisy, and if they found themselves outnumbered and pinned the extra bullets would not make a difference. He had nearly protested as Riley offered to pry open the window, but kept his tongue as she ventured through and opened the door for him. Resourceful, he thought as he joined her in the musty living room of the house. Resourceful was good.

The growls from outside were a distant, but ever-present reminder that their movements would have to be deliberate and cautious. Ethan holstered the handgun and adjusted his grip on his knife, blade facing downward. One growl stood out among the others. One in the house. One upstairs. Carefully, Ethan took a step towards Riley, leaning in to whisper into her ear, soft as a wisp of wind.

"Follow me, stay behind me, if there's more than one just buy me time or take it out if you can," he said. "Go for the temples if you can, throat if you can't."

A cut to the throat of a lurker was not fatal like it was for the living, but separating the head from the body even partially bought precious seconds. Lurker bites themselves were not harmless - not all were immune to the contact form of the disease, and a human mouth was still a human mouth. Loaded with bacteria, with teeth built for slicing through flesh. Their arms were another matter entirely. Lurkers flailed and flung their arms about to batter their opponents first, then go in to feast when the threat had been subdued.

Ethan felt the same panic and anxiety that had always accompanied him before seeing a lurker, which faded slowly with every step up the rickety staircase and towards the source of the growls. He still remembered the first time he saw a lurker, back when society was still more or less untouched. Four of them had been feeding on a homeless man in an alley, and he and his partner had tried to subdue them. How little they knew then, Ethan pondered as he reached the top of the stairs. His partner had been bitten, died, and killed three more before someone put him down.

Hairs prickled on Ethan's arms and on the back of his neck as his foot stepped atop the last stair and he peered around the second floor. The growls were coming from a room just off to his right, from an open door. Light filtered from an open window, casting the dust and particles floating in the air in a hazy glow. He could hear the sporadic, creeping steps of the lurker as it prowled the room mindlessly, minding his feet in case sleepers lay waiting to strike. Lurkers rarely ventured into buildings alone. Something felt wrong.

"Hey," he whispered to Riley. "I'm going to go take that one in the room there, you cover the doorway. There's going to be more in here."

When she acknowledged, Ethan nodded and crept along the floor, footsteps delicate as he hunched. His beleaguered muscles burned from the strain and damage of the days before, and his injury on his leg throbbed painfully with every step. Still, he made his cautious away across the threshold and to the edge of the room, gesturing for Riley to stay put with a slightly raised hand, nodding to her assuredly as he rounded the corner.

The lurker faced away from him, gazing out the window. It stood with its shoulders inclined, twitching violently as it shuffled around and growled. It could not have been dead long - its skin had some of a peachy glow to it, and its clothes had not yet decayed away or been torn from years of us. He could see the bite on its shoulder, now a scabbed scar pulsing with an angry infection that left the skin around it a deep, almost violet, red. It had been dressed in tattered survivors' clothes before it had tied - thick trousers, rugged boots, though it was shirtless.

Casting aside what the lurker might have been when it was alive, Ethan surged forward, grabbing the lurker around its throat. It jolted to life, flailing frantically in Ethan's grip, hissing and snarling, teeth clicking as it attempted to bite Ethan's wrist. A balled fist struck his thigh, then his side. Ethan grunted in pain, knife flashing. The low thunk of metal breaching soft flesh sounded and the lurker quite struggling, sliding to the ground as Ethan let go its weight and retrieved his dagger from its temple, wheeling about just as he heard more growls surfacing from the hallway...


 
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She wasn’t sure what caused the hairs on her neck to stand up. Maybe it was the feeling of Ethan’s breath against her skin. Maybe it was the fact that there were lurkers in the building. Whatever caused it, it threw her off for a moment. She watched as he took point, preparing herself for what was to come. For her, there was no trembling of the hand. This was different than what they had experienced within the last twenty-four hours. This was a different sort of danger than what they had faced at Haven. These were mindless dead, still on their feet, driven by some unquenchable thirst. It caused Riley considerably less trouble, having to kill some of these in a broken down old house. For the time being she was able to push the thought out of her head that these had once been living, breathing, thinking people with hot red blood in their veins, instead of cold, pallid, coagulated slime. Even so, there was still a knot of anxiety in her stomach. A knot that she tried her best to turn into focus. She could feel the tears that had threatened to spill stop stinging her eyes. This was different.
At the top of the stairs, she stopped as Ethan did. She watched him. He was the expert in these situations. He was a former cop, he had a lot more experience with firearms than she did. But despite her lack of confidence, she discovered something. Riley realized that she would throw herself at a lurker without a second thought, to save Ethan. He was her companion - her last human connection here in the wilds. She couldn’t lose that.
She nodded in response, not wanting to use her words for fear of alerting the lurkers. The time it took for them to close the distance to the room seemed to take forever. The way the floor creaked under their feet also seemed incredibly loud. It was as if her senses were sharpened. She reasoned it must be the adrenaline. Her feet stopped in their tracks at Ethan’s gesture. He went into the room and anxiety turned her stomach and sent a shockwave through her veins. Riley took a deep breath and focused.
The sound of struggling soon reached her ears, but no cries of pain came from Ethan. No, it sounded like Ethan got the better of the lurker. Like he had managed to sneak up and kill it. The shuffling and flailing stopped as well and she grimaced at the wet sound his knife made when he stabbed it. Riley didn’t have long to be disgusted, however. Into the hallway came another lurker. It moved faster than she had expected. How did it know they were there? Did it know they weren’t other lurkers? Could it smell them? Its eyes were bloodshot and deranged. Its arms were stretched out from its body. The nails at the end of its fingers were torn, split and some of them were even missing. On one hand, two of the fingers were torn down to the bone. To her surprise, it didn’t look like it had been dead for long, though. It had large patches of dried blood staining its torn clothing.
Riley clenched her jaw and pulled the trigger on her crossbow. The string made a thrum as it released. The bolt whizzed through the air. Before she saw whether or not she had hit her mark, she had swung the crossbow onto her back and gotten out her knife again, in one fluid motion. But to her surprise, the lurker crashed into the wall with a crash, fell to the ground and made a wet, gurgling sound for a few seconds before it stopped and lay still. The bolt had entered above the right eye and was sticking out through the back of its skull. Riley stood and watched in awe, having not expected to hit it. She had expected a much more dangerous fight that would take them much longer than this. “Ethan.” She said after a few moments, turned and looked toward the room he had gone into. “Ethan are you okay?”
 


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"All good here," Ethan said back, keeping his voice low.

He paused for a beat, listening for the sounds of agitated lurkers from down below. None came. He waited again for there to be more lurkers from the house. Again, nothing. Ethan let out a shaky breath and brushed the blackened blood from his knife against the sheets of the bed opposite him in the room. Underfoot, blood continued to leak from the hole in the side of the lurker's head - a thick, almost congealed mass tinged a dark red. As Riley peeked into the room, Ethan gestured to the inert lurker with his knife, nodding.

"That one was new, couldn't have been more than a week," he posited matter of factly, sparing Riley a more concerned look than he had the lurker. "Are you alright? It sounded like there was another one."

When Riley acknowledged, he nodded again.

"Ok, stay close, we'll take the last room together just in case before we search - if we stay quiet, it won't be too bad."

Ethan gently pushed past Riley, hand lingering on her shoulder ever so slightly as he ventured into the second floor hallway, knife at the ready. He waited for her to form up on him before the pair ventured to the last room, door shut, light leaking through the crack between the dusty floor and the door. Ethan pressed an ear to the wood - it felt damp and cold and sagged when he leaned the weight of his shoulder into it. Nothing. Ethan cautiously tried the handle, holding back a sigh of relief as the knob twisted and the door swung open with the mid-pitched whine of rusty hinges.

"Hold it," Ethan whispered, arm shifting back, brushing against Riley's own.

The room was bare, save for a bed frame and a smattering of discarded clothes. This room had been picked clean, but an inert body sat propped up against the bed. Its skin was a pallid grey, cheeks sunken, sores at the corners of its lips. Its hair was a mousy grey, thin and brittle.

"Sleeper," Ethan muttered, cautiously approaching the body.

The figure stirred as Ethan approached, eyes flitting open and shifting to Ethan. Arms raised up, teeth gnashed. Suddenly it was standing, and Ethan was wrestling with it as it drove him into the wall. Ethan's knife flashed and blood splattered to the ground from the sleeper's chest. Another flash and its neck was cut open, the sleeper gargling on its own congealed blood. It struggled for a minute longer before collapsing, shuddering in place as it gave up and died.

"Fuck," he gasped, letting out a shaking sigh. "Fuck fuck fuck..."


 
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She had felt relief for a moment, but it wasn't to last. They had to clear the rest of the house and be sure that they were alone. She turned as his hand left her shoulder. It had been a brief touch, but it meant more than she had thought it would. It was a little thing, but in their world, the little things mattered. Riley followed Ethan back into the hallway, treading as quietly as she could and following his movements. She had swung the crossbow onto her back and pulled out her knife. Even she knew that in such close quarters, waving a loaded crossbow around while her partner walked in front of her could be fatal. So she followed Ethan, ready to spring into action if the need arose.
It was with a fast-beating heart she watched him approach the door. It pumped out blood and adrenaline so hard that she could almost hear it, in the quiet of the hallway. A quiet that was soon disturbed by the groaning hinges of the old door. Just as he had reached out to stop her, she now wanted to reachout and stop him. The sleeper in the room was still dangerous, they both knew that. Riley wanted to kill it from a distance, but before she could do much, he had entered the room. It made her nervous, but she breathed deeply and followed him. Focus.
Two things happened that surprised her. The sleeper lept up and charged at Ethan with such remarkable speed. Who knew how long it had been sitting there, propped up against the bed in its comatose state. Added to that, its body was decaying and dead. How did muscles, bone and tendon manage to work with such force still? Neither of them managed to react in time to kill it, before it reached Ethan. But he was the second to surprise her. When you looked at him, it was clear that life had taken its toll on him. But even so, he was still strong. The panic that had formed in her chest, like a ball of fire, was quenched as the creature fell to the ground. She had caught the flashes of his blade and he had moved with a speed she wouldn't have attributed to him. Equal parts surprised and impressed, she stepped toward him as the sleeper lay unmoving on the floor, dead.
"Ethan." His name crossed her lips in something akin to a whisper. She reached out, put a hand on his shoulder and moved it to rest on the back of his neck. Riley's brown eyes moved to find his and she had an expression of worry on her face. His wounds worried her. "Are you okay?" She moved her hand away, both arms down along her sides. She hadn't thought about it when she had reached out to touch him. It had been an instinctive reaction. Much like he had done when he had comforted her, back at the house. Riley wanted to repay him. "Are you hurt?"
While she threw questions at him, she had one ear listening for the sounds of more of the undead. If any had heard them, there was a chance they could find their way to them much like animals could solely by following sound. And despite their various states of decay and rot, these lurkers, walkers and sleepers had once been human and somehow traces of humanity remained within their rotting minds. It was a terrifying thought.
 


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Ethan leaned comfortably into Riley's touch, but then it was gone as quick as it had come. For a brief second, he could not separate his heart's frantic beating from her touch or the coursing adrenaline pumping through his veins like liquid flame. He took a short, ragged breath in and exhaled as his quivering muscles eased and that nagging fear that came along with every encounter with the dead subsided into the more ordinary sort of day to day dread Ethan had come to accept as normal.

"I'm fine," he said, reply coming almost automatically and without thought.

He hesitated, realizing the curtness of his own words.

"Thanks," he added hastily. "No, it didn't get me. Thank God."

Not that he really believed there was one worth thanking anymore - some habits just died hard, he supposed as he prodded the dead sleeper with his foot to confirm it was done stirring. Only when its limp, bleeding body remained inert did Ethan truly relax and turn to face Riley, noting she had held her knife at the ready. He appreciated that - better she be ready should another one come lurking behind, and she had not gone for the crossbow that might have ended in a messy situation for everyone - dead or otherwise - involved.

"Let's start looking around," Ethan said flatly, as if nothing had happened. "Might be needing a new shirt after that."

He looked down at his own - cut through by the raider's knife, now splattered with a mixture of his blood and the sleeper's. It would do him no good, cuts and bloodstains aside. Fall had come and winter was steadily approaching: his current attire would do him no good. Hopefully there was more to take here, if not there were other houses to scan.

"You want to take a half of the house each or stick together?" He asked, inspecting Riley intently.


 
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She wasn't sure if he was being honest. She wasn't sure if his words were true, but had it been her, she might have reacted the same way. He was startled and adrenaline was pumping, but Ethan would manage. Riley knew he would. He always did. They had to. She wanted to do more for him, help him however she could. There was a part of her that felt indebted to him, for all he had done for her so far. She watched him as he nudged the dead thing on the floor. It didn't move and never would again. It was now, actually dead. Ethan seemed to notice the tone in which he had spoken and answered her question in a less monotone voice. It reassured her to know that he had come out unscathed from his clinch with the sleeper. Riley looked at him with a more serious expression, tinged with sorry. She tried to push it aside, though.
"You will. We have to get you some clean clothes. We also need to get you washed. Not just because you smell really bad…" She paused and smiled at him for a moment. It only lingered for a moment before her lips formed a straight line again. "But we have to keep those wounds clean." She pointed at his chest and his leg. But how they were to see to that, she wasn't sure yet. They had only little water which they would need to survive, so they could spare only a little if that. But was there a clean enough water source nearby? Would a river be safe? Yet another worry they would have to find a solution to.
Considering his words for a moment, she shifted her weight on her feet and shrugged. "Let's split up? Cover more ground that way." She offered. "I'll go downstairs." Riley nodded, turned and head back into the hallway. Her steps were less careful than before, but still light and her ears were listening for the sounds of agitated lurkers, just as they had been before. But Riley walked down the stairs and soon found herself, unassailed, in the kitchen. It seemed a good place to start. She began opening cupboards and cabinets. Most of them were filled with plates, pots, pans and other utensils they had little use for as long as they were on the road. Generally, it was a disappointing search that bore little fruit. But in the back of one of many cupboards, something caught her eye. Her eyes widened as they recognized the package. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she pulled it out. Quickly, she scanned for more and discovered that the back of the cabinet was not empty yet. Thinking on their current situation and the physical and emotional toll it had taken on both of them, it was strange to think they should be so lucky as to find food here, in this run down old house. Riley sat on her knees, watching the packet of rice and the packet of dried beans. She turned both of them over in her hands, making sure that she was not hallucinating.
Riley walked through more rooms downstairs, without really being sure of what she was looking for. Still, she scanned for any items she thought might be of use to them, without finding any. There were no clothes either, which worried her slightly. Perhaps Ethan had more luck upstairs. She made a mental note of checking on the stitches later. For now they had houses to search. And that gave her more hope for finding fresh clothes and supplies. Stopping at the foot of the stairs they had climbed not many minutes before, she looked up and called out quietly. “Ethan!” Riley’s voice was as loud as she dared, not wanting to alert any lurkers outside. “I found something.” There was a hint of excitement in her voice that she was not able to conceal. Perhaps her optimism would wear off on him?
 


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How many houses had Ethan scrounged just like this one, he wondered as Riley wandered downstairs. Her joke had left a lingering smile on Ethan's lips as he recalled picking apart the scraps along the road from Texas up to Maryland. There had been more people then - in their houses or otherwise - and a couple of times their scavenging runs had ended in conflict with whatever police officers remained.

It might have been looting back then, Ethan allowed as he explored the room with the dead sleeper. Funny how a single word like "looting" to "scavenging" suddenly makes it alright.

There had been more food back then, too. Whenever he found houses that had been left in haste, there had still been canned goods or operating refrigerators with a morsel or two. The closets had been left largely untouched, and there were still trappings of every day life. No one wants televisions or family photos or tacky wall art at the beginning, but then goods became scarce. Televisions housed valuable metal and wire. Photo frames weren't being made anymore, and no one was left to care for the faded and torn photographs they housed. Wall art...

Ethan paused, looking at a canvas so mired in dust and chuckled softly under his breath: perhaps wall art really had no uses. Curiosity getting the better of him, Ethan brushed aside the thick cloud of grime with his sleeve. Beneath was might have at one time been a painting, but years of neglect had left it unrecognizable. It was cracked, painting having peeled off the canvas in some places, mold growing along the wooden back frame and beginning to crawl across the bare spots of canvas. The paint itself was so faded by the sun that it was nearly white. The painting reminded him of his memories before the fall - so faded and warped as to be unrecognizable, as if they had happened to another person in another age.

Leaving the room with the dead sleeper and the faded painting, Ethan rounded back to the first room he had entered. Inside was little worth taking - some scrap metal that might have been useful if he had still been reporting back to Haven but was nothing but dead weight on the road. The bathroom on the second floor, despite smelling what Ethan had always pictured raw sewage to smell like, housed little in the way of useful supplies. Expired painkillers, which he took on the off chance they did anything. A molded plastic toothbrush. A comb.

"Ethan!"

Riley.

Ethan swung about, hand gripping the hilt of his knife, knuckles taut and white.

"Yeah?" He called out cautiously.

"I found something."

Hand relaxing, Ethan shook himself mentally and crept downstairs, being sure to avoid stomping down the stairs. When he reached the main floor, he spotted Riley, standing excitedly before him.

"Everything alright?"


 
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“Y-yeah.” It was as much a breath as a word as it left her lips. Riley presented her findings to him, unable to keep from smiling. They were two foods that she had taken for granted back before the Fall, but now they brought such relief and joy. Oh how their circumstances had changed. They would eat tonight. The dried beans, at least. The rice had to be cooked, and she wasn’t sure they could spend water on it. There was no telling when they would find drinkable water again. Riley smiled, looking up at Ethan. She didn’t know what to say and didn’t really think she had to say much. The two packets spoke for themselves.
“We can eat the beans. We need to boil the rice, obviously, but do we have enough water for it?” She voiced her concerns and lingered a moment, then averted her gaze. She put the packets on the kitchen counter and looked around the kitchen. She had searched every cabinet now and knew there was nothing else of use. They’d have to go on to the next house and see what it held. Suddenly it struck her that this was an exercise they would potentially be repeating hundreds of times over the coming months. It made her heart sink in her chest. It put both of them in danger. There had to be other means of getting food, but so far Riley hadn’t come up with any. During their walk and when she was lost in her own thoughts, she had often considered if hunting and fishing was a possibility. But stalking prey in the woods, was that any more safe? And would any of them succeed as hunters? The crossbows would serve them well, but there were other threats out in the wild. In the end, her contemplations only served to frustrated her more.
Riley ran a hand over her hair and down the braid along her neck, sighing. She looked from Ethan to the two packets of food and back at him. He had brought nothing with him downstairs, meaning he hadn’t found anything. “On to the next house?” She said, a sense of unease creeping up her spine the more they lingered here. It was comforting having Ethan with her, but she did not want to be trapped here in this house if a horde of the undead found them.
They left the same way they entered - both of them through the door this time. Riley carried their newfound loot and Ethan took point. They walked down the street as the house to the left of the one they had just visited, was in such a state of disrepair that entering might prove a risk in itself. Riley followed behind Ethan, eyes darting around every other second to check their surroundings. From time to time they could hear a grunt or the snapping of teeth, but the only ones she could see were far down the street. There were lurkers close, though, that was clear. Riley also knew that the second they got inside the house, she would have to drop the rise and dried beans in order to be ready to fight. There had been two of the dead in the previous house and there was no reason there couldn’t be more in this one.
She followed Ethan and was so focused that she didn’t have the capacity to notice how other wise calm and delightful a morning it was. Riley was still surprised that they had slept for such a long time, though she knew it must have been needed. On top of their physical hardships, Riley was going through considerable emotional turmoil as well, as she had so indelicately revealed to Ethan. Her cheeks flushed a pale shade of red as she thought about it. It annoyed her - probably more than it should. At least one of them had handled the situation calmly and appropriately. “I’m right behind you.” Riley whispered, stopping behind Ethan as the two of them approached the front door. It was as rotten as the previous one. Perhaps they would be able to give it a bit of a kick and it might open. The frame did not seem durable, anymore. The wood looked soft and weathered. Riley’s right hand took out her knife and she eased herself into a more ready stance.
“Ready.”
 


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Ethan returned Riley's smile, nodding appreciatively at the food. He remembered a time, distant though it was, when he had thought of rice and beans as bland. Now it conjured images of warmth and a full stomach. As if on cue, Ethan could feel his stomach suddenly ache with hunger and the lingering cravings to smoke bubble to the surface. Suddenly he was unsure if his head pounded from a lack of water or a lack of smoke, and he fumbled for his canteen he had strapped to his pants in a side pocket, taking a quick swig before capping it and following Riley out of the building.

The street was as dangerously crowded as it had been before, with lurkers snapping and prowling about. Every shift of a loose brick or creak of wood sent jolts down Ethan's spine and his head sat as if on a swivel as he scanned around, taking point in front of Riley, pistol out and ready. He kept it tight to his chest, bracing his firing wrist atop the other, which ended in a hand clutching his knife. Their progress was slow and deliberate, every step calculated to avoid tossing over a brick or drawing attention to themselves.


How long had it been since he had needed to be this close to lurkers out of necessity, Ethan wondered as they arrived at the second house on their list. When he did runs for Haven, it was never because they needed supplies, just that there were supplies to scavenge. Ultimately, a failed run could be tried again at little cost besides time. That was no longer true, and Ethan felt more than he had at any point in his life after the Fall felt the ever-present and all-encompassing lack of a fall-back. To say nothing of a warm, comfortable bed to return to and people to talk to. Had he really become so soft at Haven? Or was it that he was no longer totally alone?

He looked to Riley. No, he thought. Not totally alone this time.

"Ready," she said as they flanked either side of the door.

Ethan nodded and holstered his pistol, poking and prodding at the wood with his knife in search of a weak point. The wood gave way easily enough at its outer layers but he found resistance further down. The wood was still rotted through, but it would take noise and time to clear it. He tried the knob, cursing under his breath as it remained inert from either a lock or rust.

"Watch my back," he said softly, berating himself for not fetching a crowbar from the armory in Haven.

With great care, Ethan began to twirl the knife through a particularly caved-in segment of the door by the handle, pushing in with both hands to drive the blade into the wood and keep his wrists steady. He kept worrying away at the door, carving the hole deeper and wider, pulling away pieces as they came loose or otherwise collapsed in on themselves. A tense minute passed, and then Ethan withdrew the knife, wiping away bits of rotted wood clinging to its tip. A hole wide enough for his wrist had formed in the door, which he slid his hand through and over to the other side. The lock clicked and they were in with little more than the slight groan of rusty hinges.

Once inside, Ethan rushed to close the door behind them and propped it shut with a decaying dining room chair. It was not much, but any additional seconds might have meant the difference between life and death. Once the door was secure, Ethan scanned the ground floor of the house. It was smaller than the one before, but maybe that was because there was still furniture crowding the space. A rotted couch left leaning on two legs dominated the living room, carpet over-run with moss and grass and sprouting mushrooms. The ceiling had caved in from the second floor on account of water damage, and the dining room-kitchen to their right had bald patches in its flooring where Ethan presumed tiling had rotted away. He paused and listened for a moment - nothing on their floor, nothing from the floor above.

"It sounds clear," Ethan said softly to Riley. "You search the kitchen since you seem to have luck with food, I'll scan the living room then we'll tackle the upstairs."

Ethan made for the living room after Riley acknowledged, peering uneasily around the corner of the ruined couch. There were no lurkers or sleepers hiding out for him. Around the bend where the living room ended and what had been a washing room began rested a pile of molded clothes in a plastic laundry basket, the washing machine and dryer having been looted. With a wry chuckle, Ethan wondered who had the time and energy to haul out a washing machine during a literal apocalypse. He peered into the closet where the machines had been, finding a leftover bottle of detergent bleached by the sun so badly that it only shone through orange at its edges. He jostled it around, hearing little more than dehydrated goop shuffling around. He cast the bottle aside, passing on the dryer sheets that had been stuffed behind the detergent.

Leaving the closet, Ethan searched the entertainment stand where once a television might have been. The wood was rotted, and its contents - TV manuals and instructions - were molded or yellowed and useless besides. He fished around in the back of the entertainment stand, hands wrapping around something cool and hard to the touch. His fingers felt around its surface as he probed for a good place to grab it and he felt it become more slender the further up his hand went. A bottle. He gripped it by the neck and wrenched it from behind the stand. Not alcohol this time, but soda. He glanced down at it, smirking. Dinner and flat, old soda. A perfect meal. He reached back and found another bottle as well as the rotted container that had been part of a six-pack frame.

He veered back to the kitchen, placing the bottles proudly on the counter.

"Hey Riley," he said, corners of his lips tugging up in a smile. "Look at this to go with rice and beans."


 
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The relief she had felt at not meeting any more of the dead inside the house, still sat in her body. Though she was relieved and happy that they had found something of use, there was still an uneasy feeling in her chest. Fear and anxiety, stress and a hint of embarrassment. Why was that still there? Riley guessed that those emotions would linger in her for quite a while yet. But she had to stay optimistic for as long as she could. So as she rummaged through the kitchen drawers and cabinets, she took deep breaths and tried to look on the bright side of things. Though their situation was dire, they wouldn't starve. They would survive and that was something, their circumstances taken into consideration. It wasn't an easy thing to survive in this world. And Riley was a fighter. She knew that. She hoped Ethan knew it as well. Despite her emotional turmoil, she wasn't going to leave this world without a fight. She'd give everything she had in her, to see both of them through this. If that was her mindset, she was sure they had a chance - despite the pain.

She realized that she had stopped, one hand on the knob of a drawer. She was staring blankly at the wall in front of her and it took a while before she was able to snap out of her trance-like state. Riley blinked, sighed and closed the drawer. She hadn't found anything yet they could use. This kitchen had been picked clean, either back when whoever had lived here had evacuated, or by other looters coming through. She heard him coming back toward the kitchen before she saw him and turned to face him. Ethan placed his findings on the counter proudly. There was a smile on his face. Riley liked seeing him smile. It didn't happen all that often. Her eyes widened a smile found its way onto her own face. She picked up the bottles and looked them over, expression one of impression and excitement. Riley set them down again and nodded, looking up at Ethan.

"Should I see if I can find a dress somewhere? This is shaping up to be quite a fancy dinner." Riley said and chuckled. To think that rice, dried beans and stale soda would be considered fancy. It made her think back. Back to when things weren't so fucking hard to come by. Back to when a good steak and a glass of red wine was readily available. Riley would give anything for a steak and some wine - even the cheap stuff. Or a beer. A cold beer. She sighed, having drifted off in memory and imaginations again. "Sorry, I keep thinking back to..." She trailed off, shrugging. She didn't finish the sentence. Ethan probably understood. Did he understand? "Nevermind." Riley shook her head, gave him a smile and picked up their loot. "Let's get going?"

Quite pleased with their findings, they went through a few more houses. There was no more edible food, though. But perhaps that had been too much to hope for. Riley would settle for and be happy with what they had. At least for now. When they were fed up with going through broken down buildings that yielded only little for them, they turned back toward their temporary shelter across the street. Riley shut the door behind her gently and went into the bedroom and put the rice, the beans and the bottles down on the bed. They wouldn't go hungry to bed.
 


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Ethan had procured a bundle of wood that was just stable enough to burn with him from bits and pieces of furniture the pair had found as well as bundles of dry-enough cloth from clothing they had found that fit neither of them well. It had been mostly children’s clothing, which Ethan had long-since learned to ignore the implications of. It was fuel, now, nothing more.

Once safely inside their temporary shelter, he proceeded upstairs and gently shut the door to the bedroom behind him and set about the task of making a burn-safe fire pit indoors. He had not been forced to do so often for fear of the dead - he almost always had the luxury of a wall or isolation to light fires in peace, but he supposed he welcomed the challenge. It occupied his mind and left it from dwelling, and even managed to push aside the tingling urge and dull headache that accompanied his cravings for a smoke.

Laying a pot they had found downstairs atop a bed of thick bedding taken from another room in the house, Ethan began encircling the bedding in debris from the ceiling - mostly bricks and concrete, which would not burn. With that out of the way, he laid the tinder atop the bedding and went about lighting it with a piece of flint and steel he had procured from the armory in Haven. They would not need a roaring fire, just a warm enough patch to boil water.

A few seconds passed as Ethan nursed the flame by fanning it softly. Before long, a small flame began to crackle and glow cherry red below the pot. Ethan poured about a cup and a half of their potable water into the pan and tended to it as it gently rose to a boil.

“I was thinking,” he said, absentmindedly filling the void of silence that had built up over the bubbling water. “It’s probably been four, five years since I’ve done something as basic as cook rice.”

She watched him as he worked. He was efficient and it didn't take him long to make a small fire they could use and light a flame. Riley was looking forward to a bit meal, even though it was just cooked rice. When he spoke up, it surprised her slightly.

"I can't remember when I last cooked rice either." Riley said, smiling. She tilted her head down to the side slightly and watched the water boil. "Or peeled potatoes or carrots. Or grilled a big, juicy steak." She made a gesture with her hand, as if she was grasping the best rib eye her imagination could produce. She bit her lip and then smiled, looking at Ethan. "Simple as it is, I'm looking forward to it." She pointed to the pot and nodded. Excited for cooked rice and stale, flat soda.

“Well, it’s nothing like a ribeye, but might be once we’re a bit further from Haven we can take to hunting,” Ethan said.

The water began to boil and its bubbles burst at the surface, wafting up pleasantly warm steam. Ethan’s hand hovered over it for a moment, relishing in its warmth for a brief instant before taking the rice and pouring it into the pot. He leaned back as the water continued to ripple and bubble, checking the fire momentarily to ensure it did not produce smoke that might waft outward and give away their position. Outside the sun was beginning to set, and Ethan wagered soon the fire might be their only light. It was cloudy, and there was no moonlight that could pierce through that cloud cover.

“Well,” Ethan said, shifting his gaze upward from the fire to Riley. “Must admit it’s been a while since I’ve talked about…”

He hesitated.

“Anything that wasn’t about immediate survival so I’m a bit rusty, but seems like we owe ourselves that much over dinner, right?”

“Right.” She agreed and nodded. She reached behind her head and undid the braid she had worked on that morning. Raking her fingers through her hair, it tumbled around her shoulders in light curls. Goosebumps appeared on her skin as she massaged her scalp for a few moments. When she turned her attention back to Ethan, she realized that both of them were quite rusty at conversation. Both were probably worried about asking about life before the Fall, fearing to provoke memories that might hurt. But depressing as it was, that was the state of things. Painful memories of the past, tinged with joy and laughter. Of course, there had been good moments in the past years, but all of it was overshadowed by the ever-present threat of the walking dead. She clenched her jaw. They had to sail those stormy waters and learn to talk about everything, despite the pain.

“I’m afraid I’m not much better than you are, though.” Riley took two bottles of those they had found and handed one to Ethan and kept one for herself. “But we’ll manage.” She added, unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle to her nose. It smelled alright. It didn’t make the same noise when you opened it, and neither did it seem to fizz so much anymore, but it would still be a welcome luxury. She held it out toward Ethan. “Cheers.”

After they had touched their bottles to each other, she raised it to her lips and took a careful sip. Her expression went from one of careful suspicion to excitement. It was good. Riley grinned and gave a light, musical laugh. It was such a contrast to their situation, to enjoy something so simple. But it was good to not have to live off water and stale bread and half an apple, although that might soon become their reality. “So,” She began, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You were a cop before, right? Were you a super serious bad-cop-Ethan back then, or did you have other hobbies?” She made a face that mimicked his usually serious, stern expression, but followed up with one that let him know she was joking.

Ethan nodded, taking a sip from the bottle. It was sweet on his tongue, and even though it was lukewarm and flat it brought him back to memories of movie theaters and summer barbecues. Had he really lived that life before this? It felt like it had been a stranger's life he had read about, only vividly described. His eyes lingered for a moment on Riley's fingers as they tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I never went to college," he said, realizing a simple nod might defeat the purpose of polishing off the rust. "I was just an eighteen year old kid, no direction after high school. I considered the military, but when I told my mom that…"

A small smile tugged at his lips as he recalled images of his mother tucking him into bed as a child.

"...she threw a shoe at me, I think. That or a shoebox, I don't remember exactly what. My uncle worked at the local station and he had a talk with me, told me to go for the police if I felt like I wanted to serve that way. A year or two later I was on the force. I was an OK cop - I was in a small town in Texas so you felt the smalltown cop hero status pretty regularly. People dropping coffee off, regular barbecues. No real trouble, it was nice."

Ethan prodded at the pot with a hand wrapped in some bedding to shield himself from the heat. He swirled around the pot to agitate the rice and prevent sticking, clearing his throat.

"But yeah," he said with a chuckle. "Not always so stern and grim. "What did you do...before.."

He gestured outside.

"All this."

Unexpectedly, she was not filled with painful longing for what was before. Riley was curious and listened intently as Ethan spoke about his past life. It was easy to imagine him in uniform, driving around a small town and being a cop. It sounded wonderful, but then, anything from back then sounded great. Anything 'normal'. His story about his mother made her chuckle. That part was also easy to imagine.

"Hmm." She drew out, taking a sip of her drink. "I was sick of school that much I remember." Riley smiled. She wouldn't mind school now. She wouldn't any of the things Ethan had mentioned or any of the things she was thinking of. "I spent a lot of time riding my motorbike and going on trips with my family. My dad was big on hunting and fishing." Riley said, happy to remember him. "I was never destined for a desk job. I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do, to be honest. I'm better with my hands."

Riley sighed. Back then, she had been stressing out over what to do with her life. Or well, everyone else had been stressing out, Riley had taken it a little more calmly. "My dad and I talked about I could go work for him. He was a carpenter. I considered becoming a police officer as well, but…" she trailed off. "I remember more of what I miss. Some things back then are just kind of hazy." She shrugged and drank. "I miss barbecues, for instance." Riley said and nudged his shoulder. After a moment of silence she looked down at her feet and then at him. "I wish I had met you before all of this, Ethan."

Ethan blinked in surprise, cocking his head slightly as he looked into Riley’s eyes. He wondered how she had meant it, and he felt his cheeks flush ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” he said. "Might have made something of all this if that had been the case."

He paused, gauging the water level of the rice. It would be ready soon.

"We work well together," he added. "I know we didn't talk much at all before now, but I think this might have been a little bit of fate."

"Do you believe in fate?" Riley asked with earnest interest. She didn't think he was the type, but enjoyed the idea of how he might surprise her in that regard. She had noticed the expression on his face and the way his cheeks flushed slightly, even though the dark was gathering. She didn't mention it, though. It made her smile, though.

Her stomach growled and she put a hand over it, a little embarrassed. It revealed exactly how she feeling. Hungry. It had been a long day. "We do work well together." She said, nodding. "I was a little skeptical about Coker Creek though, to be honest." She added. "But not as skeptical and nervous as I was the first time I met you." She laughed softly, not wanting to make too much noise. "Do you remember?"

It had been say back when she was less sure of herself, and definitely less sure about how to handle firearms. And that was one thing she was now damn sure Ethan had noticed as well. Thinking back on it, it was a miracle she hadn't shot him.

“I don’t think I ever believed I would be shot more than I did back there,” Ethan said with a wry smile. “I do miss that car, though - I miss even just having gasoline that worked. Putting it up for scrap metal for the barricade hurt a bit, but it wasn’t like that thing was going anywhere. But we should make it fine. Not everything is gonna be bad like Coker Creek - the road isn’t too bad, and it’s easier with good company.”

Ethan grabbed utensils from his backpack - a pair of bowls and forks as well as one spoon. He tested the rice with a fork, nodding approvingly and beginning to spoon equal portions into both bowls. He passed one over to Riley and took a tentative bite. It was bland, flavorless, unseasoned rice but it was warm and fluffy and filled his yearning stomach with a comfortable warmth that blossomed outward. He washed down the first bite with a sip of the soda and tossed his head back.

“Fuck it’s been a while since I’ve had proper warm food, I think last time was when you managed to bag a couple of rabbits a few months ago,” Ethan said.

She made a face at him, jokingly. Both of them knew that it had been highly irresponsible to give her a loaded weapon back then, but at least they could laugh about it now. The thought of having a car that worked sat with her for a moment, while Ethan served their food. It would be so easy. They could cover so much more ground than they could now, and they would be relatively safe at the same time. But they would also draw attention to themselves. From walkers and unfriendly humans alike.

When he handed her the bowl of rice, she took it eagerly and stirred it with her fork. "Thanks." She said and then are some. It was bland, quite flavourless and possibly one of the most boring meals she had had in a long time - and that said something. But it was warm and it felt good. Riley couldn't help being amused at the whole situation, though the root of it sprung from tragedy and pain. "This is so fucking boring but so good." Riley laughed and ate some more. She pointed at Ethan with her fork. "Those rabbits were good. Perhaps we can shoot some… later…" she gestured outside and shrugged. "If we do, I promise I'll cook you something delicious." She realized how difficult that might prove to be, with their meager provisions. Riley shrugged as she chewed. "Well… I'll cook you rabbit. Delicious might be a stretch."

Drinking a sip of her soda, she sighed contentedly. This was more than she would have hoped for, when they had arrived here and that was an encouraging thought. "When we're done eating I'm checking those wounds." Riley said matter-of-factly, gesturing at him with her fork again. " We should find you a new shirt as soon as we can as well." Riley titled her head and watched him. "Perhaps pink will suit you."

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Ethan said, laughing softly. “And rabbits sound amazing, but I shouldn’t be too picky - this is great.”

He gestured to the rice bowl, taking another bite.

“Great catch, too.”

"Mh." Riley let out through closed lips. It was a soft sound. She appreciated the compliment. For a while, she said nothing and concentrated on her food, occasionally glancing at Ethan. Out of all the people in Haven, she was fortunate that she had ended up with him. Her changes of survival were definitely better for it.

When they had both finished their bowls of rice, she set hers down and washed the last mouthful down with some soda. She gestured at him and patted on the spot on the bed in front of her. "Alright, sit. Let me see those wounds." She said and rummaged around her backpack for her first aid kit. "You can tell me about how you made it to Haven, while you're being a good patient."

Ethan nodded and put aside his empty rice bowl, finishing the last few sweet drops of flat soda before standing and heading over to the bed. He seated himself beside Riley and eased himself out of his shirt, wincing as the fabric brushed over his cut. The cut along with the gash in his leg had both receded into the background while they were foraging for supplies, only stinging or throbbing intermittently when Ethan pushed himself or brushed against something that agitated them. Now, though, the mixture of dull and stinging pain had returned.

“She finds food, tends to wounds, and hunts,” Ethan said with a half-laugh as he turned to give Riley easier access to the cut along his chest. “Why were you left in the workshop? Eliza and I could have used you.”

He brushed it aside, realizing that dwelling on what might have been at Haven would likely rub salt into raw wounds. Not that asking what Ethan had been up to before Haven was any different, he supposed as he thought of how exactly to answer Riley’s question. Laura and the others flashed before his eyes, but he was torn back to reality rather quickly as Riley began fussing with his wound - equal parts agitation and pain sparking from the cut and comfort at her touch.

“I was still a cop for a while back home,” he said, seeming to chew upon each word before letting it loose before regaining his confidence speaking again. “Only, people kept getting sick. We didn’t know at the time what would happen after about a week or two, but we’d heard rumors. Then they started coming back up at home, too. I remember, there were a couple of them feeding on a homeless man in an alleyway by town square. My partner tried to arrest them - they were in pajamas, one had a hospital band on. They brought him down, and when I shot one it just jolted back and got right back up. I helped him up, fended off the others - he was covered in scratches, and one had bitten his arm. I rushed him to the hospital, but they’d started getting up there, too.

“That was the last normal day, I think. My partner turned, and I turned the other way and ran. Things were tense for a while after that - people boarded up their houses with whatever guns and food they had. I kept up the station with a few other cops for a while and helped distribute food, ammo, water, but that eventually ran out too. That’s when I heard there was a quarantine zone up in Maryland they had established. I was desperate, so I took what people I could from home and left with what gas we could scrounge together. We took a prison bus and as much as we could carry. Fourteen of us left, and only five made it to the zone.

“Military was still pretty active, trying to establish safe zones around the country where the local populace had carved out a little pocket or were defensible. The line holding New York City had been breached about a year after I got to the quarantine zone - I’d been a part of the military police there, but pretty clearly it became a case that once there was a horde of potentially millions heading down the road for us no one cared about what an MP said they could or couldn’t do. Pretty soon I was on my own again after about two or three months of infighting, followed up by a group of lurkers breaking through the barricades. I wandered my way down the mountains, sticking to the high ground where I could. I found a car and enough gas to run it, and made my way down to North Carolina or Tennessee when I found Haven.”

She let out a breath of air, an appreciative smile finding its way onto her face. She shook her head, though she couldn’t help but consider what life might have been like in Haven, had she worked with Ethan and Eliza instead. Riley liked her job there. Hunting, her workshop and all the little odd jobs she often did. She had never considered doing anything else. But that mattered only little now. She turned to face him and began working at his wound as he spoke. It was a nice distraction and it genuinely interested her. As her fingers gently cleaned the edge of the cut with a wipe from the first aid kit, she listened.

Every survivor that had made it this far would have had a rough few years by now. Everyone had experienced something horrible, but even so, she felt bad for Ethan specifically. She wished that it hadn’t happened to him. But how could it now have, seeing as the whole world had descended into apocalyptic chaos, back then. Riley had seen her fair share of gruesome things she would rather forget. At least by now they didn’t keep her up at night, and the nightmares had stopped a few years ago. She was done with the cleaning process when he finished talking. The stitches looked neat and the wound looked fine as well. Riley carefully applied a new bandage and did her best not to press down on the wound too much. Her fingers then trailed over his skin and found two marks on his shoulder. Two scars from what she could only assume were from bullets. She brushed the skin with her finger and tilted her head. There was a scar on his arm as well. A jagged, nasty one that probably hurt like a motherfucker. Fortunately, she only had to focus on the two.

Realizing what she was doing, Riley pulled her hand away faster than she had intended and looked down, glanced up and smiled. Her hair slipped down in front of her face and she quickly tucked it back behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Ethan.” She mustered the courage to meet his eyes again. “Sounds like you’ve been through the grinder.”

Ethan’s hand came to rest upon Riley’s knee - rough and calloused to the touch, but gentle. It lingered there for a moment before sliding off gradually, and Ethan hesitated as if wondering how the hand had wound up there. His eyes met Riley’s, and he could just barely catch a waft of the same pine scent that had always accompanied her. How had it been the case, after a forced march from Haven and skulking about in muck and dust that she retained it?

“It’s nothing no one else has gone through,” he said softly, admiring her softly-set brown eyes with his own and part of him yearned for that soft touch upon his shoulder again as they sat there, neither acknowledging the accidental brushes for a moment.

The broken down house was completely quiet for a moment. All she could hear was their breathing and it seemed as if they were locking eyes for an eternity. Eventually, Riley cleared her throat and averted her gaze. The red in her cheeks was accompanied by a smile. She hadn’t realized that she had been staring at him, at first. Neither had she meant to let her fingers wander. It just sort of happened. Silently, she chided herself for her carelessness. What sort of signal would it sent to Ethan? What sort of… Riley’s eyes widened a little and the red in her cheeks deepened when it occurred to her what train of thought she was following.

She poked his leg, not wanting to know if he had noticed and eager for a distraction. This wasn’t the time for things and thoughts like that. But would there ever be a time again? “Let me see that leg.” Riley calmed herself and fished out the things she needed from the first aid kit. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

 
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She had a full stomach and she was warm when she laid down to sleep. Ethan’s wounds had been tended and she was confident they would heal, though she would have to keep changing bandages and keeping an eye on. It did make a serious impact on their first aid supplies, so that was a priority, moving forward. But for now they were alive, they weren’t starving and they had even enjoyed a flat soda for their dinner. It wasn’t all bad, though this was just the very beginning of a long and arduous journey. She knew that for sure. Before she fell asleep, she wondered about the next few days. They would have to see if they could find more supplies and Ethan needed to heal more. They couldn’t risk the wounds reopening and then there was the fact that without any painkillers, he’d be in a lot of pain. That alone would take its toll on him, on the road. It would wear him down and tire him out. No, it was better to wait a few days.
So they did. How many exactly, was hard to say. They sort of blended together. Riley tried to keep count, but they all looked alike. They woke up, ate a little bit and went out in search of supplies. From time to time, they would run into a lurker that needed to be put down. Riley felt that same nervous adrenaline course through her veins, though she found that it became easier to focus and control her nerves. She doubted that she would be completely rid of the jitters, before she entered an unexplored building. But she found comfort in the thought that anyone in her situation, would probably feel the same.
Fortunately, their searches bore fruit. Though not enough to sustain them for a long time, Riley had surmised that their food would last them about a week. If they rationed it strictly perhaps a little longer, but they also needed their strength. Other than food and water, she had found a rope and a black and grey shemagh to keep out the biting wind when it rose. As for weapons, they were pretty well covered on that front. Besides, she wasn’t sure they could carry anymore.
Standing and looking at her packed backpack, she nodded to herself. She had managed to cram everything in there, as well as attaching a few things to the sides and the bedroll on top. All of it was tied and strapped in so that it made no noise as they walked. This would be their last day in their temporary shelter. It had served as a place for them to recuperate, but even so, she had begun to feel restless and wanted to get moving. It no longer felt safe for them. It was too broken, too close to Haven and the raiders that had overtaken it. And if a sizable group spotted them, they would break in relatively easily. So perhaps it was good that they were leaving. It was dangerous out there too, of course, but something in her wanted to feel the ground under her feet as they walked. It was impossible to know where it would be safe for them to go, but they had to try. This couldn’t be their holdout forever.
“Ready, Ethan?” Her voice was soft but clear. She didn’t know where he had gone, but only heard him about the house. She was anxious to see how he would be doing, on their journey. How his wounds would manage. It wasn’t so much if they would spring open again, no, she was confident that they wouldn’t. It was the soreness, stiffness and the pain she was worried about. The tugging on the skin. The area around the wound would still be agitated and sore. They would have to help each other as much as they could - even with the small things. But that hadn’t been a problem so far. So with a mindset that was more positive than she would have thought, Riley waited for his answer with a careful smile on her lips.
 


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The morning was chill come the day that Ethan and Riley had decided to leave for roads yet traversed. Ethan stood on the second floor of their temporary shelter watching their approach through town to the other side. In their time in this town, venturing out almost every day, Ethan and Riley had grown accustomed to its layout: buildings, key streets, where the lurkers crowded, everything. Riley had proven invaluable, then, sketching out a rough map of the place - and before long they had decided they had taken all there was to take, rested as long as they could.

Though Ethan's injuries troubled him, and his withdrawals from tobacco had become more pronounced to almost the point of crippling him, something felt different about this morning. The world was sharper, clearer. His breathing was calm, and the wounds along his chest and leg still throbbed but when he stretched and moved they bothered him little. It felt strange, he reflected as he shifted from the window to collecting up his belongings.

Give it a day on the road and see how you feel, Ethan thought as he swung his backpack over his shoulders.

His time with Riley in this small town had been relaxing, after a strange fashion. Life followed a tense, but predictable routine and every night they had sat and chatted over whatever food they had managed to find the day before. Had this been what he had been missing at Haven? There was no point dwelling - it was time to leave, he could hear Riley downstairs.

Ethan brushed his new shirt straight along his chest, flattening out and loose folds. It was a bit big, but its sleeves were long and it was clean enough.

And it has no holes.

A moment later and Ethan was downstairs, looking Riley over to gauge her mood. She looked eager, hopeful like she always did and a pang of affection for her ran through Ethan as he returned her smile with one of his own. She was dressed as she had been for their first trip outside of Haven, and it suited her, even if he had grown used to seeing her hair down by her shoulders.

He rolled his shoulders, wincing as they popped and looking to see if his gear clattered as he moved. Fortunately he had it all locked down tightly enough - his rifle was looped around his shoulder, the shotgun around the other, his pistol at his side. His pack felt heavier than it had from Haven, and he had never felt more fortunate to heft around so much weight for it meant they had food and water to see them through the next week at least.

"Ready," he said at last after clearing his throat as to spare his voice cracking.

They ventured out the front door, their routine polished - Ethan stood back, pistol ready as Riley cleared the barricade and swung the door open. When all was clear they shouldered up with knives ready. Fortunately no lurkers or other threats awaited them, and they proceeded down the main road, sticking to the cover of burned out husks of cars and buses as they went. They had noted that lurkers avoided the main road, preferring to stick to the claustrophobic alleyways and ruined buildings dotting the town. Still, their going was slow and deliberate like it had been the week before.

After a tense span of ten minutes, the two cleared the other end of the town and made it on to the road running down the side of the hill upon which the town stood. The road here was in decent enough condition, and Ethan could still spy strips of yellow running down its center. Already the leaves were beginning to fall, though it could have been no later than June or July. The wind was chilled, and Ethan's breath fogged in the cold morning air even as the sun peaked over the rim of the mountains and warmed his skin with its soft touch.

"I know we've spent the past week in half a house with no proper roof or windows," Ethan said, taking a deep breath. "But I missed this."

They had both decided to avoid discussing Haven for the time being - the wounds were still fresh, and Ethan was unsure how long his newfound purpose would last.

"How long are we on this road for again?"


 
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It was good to feel the ground beneath her feet, even though they were walking on hard paved road. They had made it out of their shelter and the small town with nothing hindering their going, which only served to improve her mood even more. She had to smile at Ethan’s words. For a moment she watched him without speaking. He’d found a new shirt. A relatively clean one. It suited him, though the size perhaps didn’t fit perfectly. That wasn’t important, though. It was more pressing that he had clothes that were whole and not covered in blood. As she watched him, she wondered if they would ever reach a river or a lake. Somewhere they could bathe and perhaps wash their clothes. For the latter, the sooner the better. Summer seemed to hold less power over the weather.

“Me too.” Riley looked away from him and toward the mountains. It was an incredible sight. The world was so much more quiet now. Undisturbed by vehicles and all of mankind’s business. But it was also much more dangerous for those humans that had survived. Even so, nature was beautiful. The sun cast the road ahead in light and the air was cool and fresh in her lungs. “I love mornings like these.” She said in a soft voice, glanced back at Ethan and smiled. At least she still had this, to fill her with a sense of wonder.

Perhaps if they found a place that was relatively safe, they could make a home there. Maybe they could hunt and have enough food, just for the two of them. Maybe they could find somewhere, where they could have a small vegetable garden and grow carrots and potatoes. They could try to build a greenhouse, as well, if they could find the glass for it. There would be a fireplace, a small kitchen, a simple wooden table, lanterns and blankets to keep them warm at night. The picture she had produced in her mind filled her with hope. But Riley felt immediately embarrassed. It was a fool’s hope. Too good to be true. And for all she knew, she was the only one out of the two, who thought it might be a good idea to live like that. Haven had been walled to keep the dead out, which seemed crucial for any sort of permanent dwelling. She sighed and pushed the thought out of her head for the time being.

“Hmm.”Riley began and her expression changed as she thought about his question. “It all depends on where we want to go, I suppose.” She shrugged. That was obvious. “If we stick to this road for about an hour and a half and then head west, we’ll go into territory that’s less densely populated. Or was, I guess.” She tilted her head to the side a little, as she stared at the road ahead and thought. “That also means less supplies to be found, but also probably less lurkers and walkers.” Riley looked at Ethan, wondering if he thought she was horrible at planning their journey. “If we spend this day going west, we have more than enough supplies to get to Danville to the south, or Greensboro further on.” She paused, considering their other option. “If we want to keep going west, we can follow Route 81 until we get to Tennessee. There are a dozen towns along the road. We should be able to find shelter and supplies there.” She had made up that rough plan in her head a few days ago and for the time being it seemed like a decent enough plan.

A moment passed in silence before she realized that she may have clouded her answer in her explaining. “Short version is,” Riley said and shook her head at herself. “An hour and a half and then we go west.” What exactly it would look like once they got out where there weren't as many buildings, Riley wasn't sure. It had been a long time since she had been far away from Haven. But she was hopeful that there would be less of the dead the further away form the larger cities and towns they were.