004: we were never meant to survive
There was slight guilt that clouded Joey's mind. She wasn't sure what to do with it. Part of her felt suffocated having to trail on Bill's heels for days on end, clutching a plush toy like it was her lifeline. Perhaps it was ━ just a soft reminder to the life that used to be. However, she wanted to rip its stuffing out sometimes when she couldn't sleep. When they'd settle in abandoned buildings and shops, sometimes taking over other peoples old camps, it made her insides coil and sour. Bill never seemed to mind, though ━ Joey often wondered if it was just a façade.
They were in an old building that seemed to be an old preschool. Normally Joey would scold Bill and insist they stay somewhere else ━ trying to sleep, with rotters clawing at the doors, in a place where kids used to roam free ━ especially now knowing that they're probably dead ━ wasn't exactly comforting. If anything, it made Joey feel worse than ever, especially clutching onto the teddy bear that was definitely meant for kids that used to be there. Her heart stammered in her chest as she tucked her hair back into a braid. She had found a clean brush in one of the stores and even though Bill didn't consider it a "necessity", she stopped taking his word a little while ago. Small things like brushing her hair and being able to cuddle up next to something made her feel all the more grounded, but also craving her past life. But when her mind began to wander she was getting better at bringing herself back down.
She watched him intently as he put out the small bonfire with the bottom of his boot, wincing gently as the ambers floated up his shirt. He had wiggle the fabric against the air to get them out, and Joey tried to fight back a laugh, all the while he flipped her off. "Not funny,"
"Why are you putting out the fire anyways?" she questioned, settling down on the makeshift bed, head a little far up in the stars still. They had set up cups and bowls outside of the building, and underneath some of the holes in the ceiling in hopes for rain. They were running out of water, and it hadn't rained for weeks, the roads cracking under the intense sun rays during the day and the grass turning from its usual luscious green to a dry, cracked beige from lack of maintenance. The once pruned lawns of suburbs turned into a bland vast of fawn. The pair of them had gotten used to hearing and seeing crows swoop down to pick away at the corpses, turkey vultures perching on top of trees as they fixated on the many available meals. Joey had one time even seen a rotter being attacked by vultures, its limbs trying to swat them away. It made her wonder if they could feel the beaks being jabbed into their flesh, pulling away, rotting. Their groans seemed to get louder, but Joey chalked that up to be a figment of her imagination ━ something to scare herself even more with.
Joey spent a majority of her time trying to pry details out of Bill - and taking everything he was doing and perfecting it. There were cuts and scabs all over her hands from trying to flip her butterfly knife and practice her tricks. Bill would scold at her when they would be in close proximity and she would be flipping the blade back and forth, hiss at it slicing her skin. They would ample amounts of rotters to kill after that.
She'd pick up on his slight mannerisms, like toying with the tape around the grip of his knife, or impulsively cleaning the barrel of his gun. They were running out of ammunition, as well - Joey felt like they were teetering near the edge of the end. They had made it out of California about a month after San Jose, and leaving the state was more sentimental than Bill put out. Part of him felt as though it was necessary for Joey's sake, to pretend like he was okay, but he wasn't sure if he was ready yet. Leaving California meant leaving everyone else behind. Leaving Ellie behind. But they were settled in Nevada, now, and it wouldn't be too long until he could drown in his sorrows in the comfort of a bed and four walls. Maybe he could leave Joey, pursue a life elsewhere. She reminded him too much of Ellie that physically hurt to look at her, to hear her talk, to get hurt. He felt himself get each injury she did, internal or not. Going their separate ways would be the most notable option.
Joey lay with her eyes boring into the ceiling. There were a few prominent holes in the material, the blackness of the night sky a vice for her to get lost in. That and the subtle sounds of the night, the crickets and the cicadas hiked up in the trees that seemed to abuse her sleep schedule for the past few months since they've been on the road. But Bill's snoring seemed to keep her awake more than normal. Sometimes she wasn't bothered by it, but it only seemed to make her even more paranoid that rotters would wander in and take them for a meal. Although Bill rested her assured that it wasn't going to happen. That she didn't have to worry anymore ━ she was safe. Joey heavily doubted that.
One of his snores seemed to wake himself up, and he rolled over, sniffling, but his eyes broke up to look at Joey. She was still staring up at the ceiling, but seemed to go frigid when she felt his eyes on her. "What're you still doing up, kid?" his voice was groggy, hand shifting under his head. Joey looked at him from the corner of her eyes, and shifted a bit on her back. "Couldn't sleep,"
Bill sighed, eyes closed, but still awake. "Couldn't, or wouldn't,"
Joey furrowed her brows, clutching the bear closer to her chest. The nylon beneath her head made her hair grow staticky. "I'm just not tired,"
Bill scoffed, cracking open his eyes for a moment. "Just try, alright? We've got a long day ahead of us,"
"You say that everyday," she muttered, eyes still fixated on the void that assembled beneath the roof, and tried to avoid looking at him. Bill, too, moved in his position and looked up at the roof. "What exactly are you looking at?"
"Trying to find the Big Dipper," she excused. It was just easier to explain rather than try to differentiate and articulate herself into a jumble of words that didn't make sense. There was too much cramming her psyche that it seemed nearly impossible to separate the good from the bad, the pretty from the ugly. Joey didn't think a fifteen year old could have such detrimental thoughts, but there wasn't much escape ━ if any ━ so she had to bury the hatchets and deal with it. It was the angst of the afterworld that she wasn't entirely expecting. If anything, she was anticipating those worries to vanish after the fact that she didn't have high school to gruel over anymore.
"Your mind seems full,"
"Stop trying to read my mind, you're being creepy,"
Bill chuckled, hands clasped over his chest. His beard had begun to go gray, but Joey never said anything, so he didn't notice. (After all, they didn't have many mirrors these days.) She thought it was because of the stress, maybe the depression of the state of the world. Hell, she was surprised her own hair wasn't going gray yet. The two laid in silence for a few minutes, but it was comfortable enough for Joey to close her eyes. Bill didn't notice. She was still awake, however, taking careful note of the scattering of his breath, like he was holding something back ━ whether it was a statement, a sob, Joey didn't know. She just laid there.
"Why don't you ever want to talk about her?" Joey spoke suddenly, and the comfort that had laced in the air was quickly replaced by a string of tension. It nearly suffocated her how quickly the mood changed. She could tell that, despite having mentioned it, he still doesn't want to talk about it. It almost made her sick ━ she was being too direct. When they set down a standard set of rules if they were going to make it through navigating this apocalypse together, to not talk about their past. More specifically, DO NOT TALK ABOUT BILL'S DAUGHTER. It was almost like a metaphorical red button. But, Joey just had to press it.
"You're treading on some thin ice here," his voice cracked, but he tried to cover it with a clear of his throat. Joey anxiously swallowed. "I just ━ I feel like we can open up now, right? I mean, I did kill that guy for you. Twice,"
"And I have saved your ass many more times. You don't see me prying about your grandparents, or your parents, huh?" his voice was vicious. Almost spiteful. He didn't intend for it to come out that way, but she was plucking an untuned string. Plucking, plucking, plucking, even if it didn't sound right. He tried hard not to bare his teeth. Joey tried to avoid any more stinging words and roll over to her side. "I just wanted us to be more transparent with one another," she muttered, but Bill didn't answer. It was almost as if he was pretending to sleep to avoid confronting her. Joey felt her chest grow heavy, as if someone was sitting on it. Bill didn't answer, instead staring at her back as she turned away. There was silence before they fell asleep. It took a few hours before Joey actually succumbed to the quiet.
The next morning, they walked in silence for a few hours. When Joey would request a break, he would only dismiss her with a long, undetermined silence. It irked her like nothing else. They had been traveling the past month together, throughout California, and now making their way through Nevada, yet he never let down any walls. Joey wasn't any better, only because she learned that from him. You were the average of the five people you surround yourself with ━ Joey was surrounded by Bill, and the dead, dead, dead, dead, and more dead. There wasn't much to go on.
They had been walking for about three hours, before Joey tried to drink any of the water left in their canister. There wasn't anything but a few drips that disintegrated on her tongue. "Shit, we're out,"
Bill scoffed. "No, you're out . . . we have to cut through here," he took a swig of water, in spite of her, and Joey nearly wanted to take her knife and drive it through his skull. There was a build up of cars blocking the road ahead of them, some ambulances, and they weren't getting through any time soon. So, they had to walk through an old warehouse that seemed to be made into a shelter for a lot of people after the fallout. Joey winced as she killed the second rotter that stumbled into their path ━ she couldn't entirely tell their age, but sometimes she wondered if they were her age. Sometimes, she could see they were reading comic books or playing the Game of Life with their siblings. Some of them even took their own lives. So, she felt as though she was taking them all over again. But after a few months, it became second nature.
There were toys scattered around a certain area, along with chalkboards, letter blocks, ripped books and jenga puzzles. Joey frowned. "Looks as though they were trying to make a school," she muttered, fingers running over the magnets that were scattered on the portable whiteboard, that had marker ink on it that was too old to even try and erase. "Joey, get your gun out," Bill advised, the first word he had spoken to her for hours. She scowled. "Why?"
"Because I said so,"
She rolled her eyes, taking out the gun from her holster, and holding it how he taught her. Safety off, but finger resting above the trigger until you are absolutely sure you need to shoot. Her hands trembled a bit, and she was hesitant to click the safety off for her own sanity, but did it anyways. They walked slowly throughout the building, her gun close to her side, while Bill scoped out the area with his gun on his eyesight. There wasn't much movement, and they came upon a closed gate. He waved for her to follow, but Joey was cautious, the gun held closer to her eyesight as they walked through the area. Bill pushed open the gate door, but there was some sort of rigged trap, and there was a steel barrier that came down from the ceiling. Joey had to dodge out of the way, nearly pulling the trigger of her gun as it flew from her hands, as she landed on her butt. "Shit!"
There was a small window in the door that Bill frantically looked through, watching as Joey scrambled to her feet to grab her gun. She aimed it in a few different directions to make sure that there wasn't anyone trying to come after her, and when she concluded it was safe, she ran up to the door. "Well this is awkward," she muttered, still looking from the corners of her eyes. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked, and she shook her head. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she breathed, itching her head. "How the fuck are we going to figure this shit out?" she laughed, purely out of nerves, but Bill didn't seem amused. It wasn't often he didn't catch onto or rebut with more sarcasm. Joey frowned.
"Listen, I saw an exit sign somewhere over there. I'll find a way out, and we'll meet up outside, alright?" he asked, but it came out as more of a statement. She swallowed thickly. She saw the exit sign, too, but that wasn't to say that exit was nearby. There was a wave of silence before Bill cleared his throat to get her attention. "I uh . . . yeah, yeah. I can manage that," she breathed out of her mouth, looking at him one last time before they heard rustling from the left of her. She turned to see multiple rotters emerging from the shadowed, dark area they had emerged from not that much earlier. "Shit, rotters!"
"Run, Joey, I'll find you, alright?" he yelled to her, as she shot two of the rotters in the head and made a run for the door. Closing it behind her, she was engulfed in darkness. "Shit," her flashlight that toggled on only emitted a short stream of light, illuminating the shelves upon shelves descended further down the room. If she peered through the boxes, Joey could spot the door not too far away ━ the sunlight peeking through the wood boards that were nailed into them. Part of her was too scared to move, limbs cemented to the ground. But the realization that if she didn't move, she was most likely going to die by the herd on the other side, it pushed her to move forward just slightest bit. It was silent, other than the scratches on the other side of the door, and the sounds of her feet against the cement. Her flashlight was held beneath the barrel of the gun, as she maneuvered through the shelves quietly and stealthily. Her heart beat skipped when she noticed the rotters beginning to pry open the door, ones arm sticking through and getting clamped straight off when the heavy door closed on it. They're too weak to get it open. I have a clear shot to the door. Her mind was telling her that she could do it, but Joey felt her feet still cemented into place. It made her stomach do flips, and her hands were beginning to shake a bit while she gripped the gun.
Footsteps echoed. Growls intensified. They were beginning to break through, and part of Joey wondered if the hinges on the door were so rusted they could just tear out of the wall. She whirled around and pointed her gun in the direction of the door. One rotter squeezed through, and made its way toward her, to which she shot it in the head, the gunshot ringing in her ears and nearly making her vision go dizzy from the tight enclosement. She began to run down the deserted aisles, bathed in darkness, relying solely on her intuition in hopes that she wouldn't get strung up in the herd that was trying to break down the door. Her breathing became erratic and she nearly screamed when a hand reached out and clutched at her ankle, forcing her down onto her arms, sharp pains convulsing up to her shoulders as she nailed the sensitive skin on the dingy floors. A few tears plucked her eyes from the pain, and the fear, as she contemplated the inevitable nature of another demise. Perhaps this was the way she went out. Tripping over a rotter's hand and getting bit in the ankle.
Her voice was strained and dry as she cried out, using her other foot to kick the rotter in the face, its jaw dislocating almost instantly. In a normal circumstance she would've felt strong and capable, but the pure reason of their skin being so decomposed a baby coughing on it would most likely tear off a chunk of its flesh, it wasn't impressive. If anything, it made her all the more disgusted and terrified. "Get off me you motherfucker!" with a few more swift kicks, she was able to rid the walker of its arm, the hand still clutched around her ankle. She took her knife and drove it through its skull, and there was a dull thud that echoed throughout the warehouse as its head smashed on the ground. Joey scrunched up her face and continued to try and rid her ankle of it's hand. There was a loud clash that also echoed, and she could hear the thunder of approaching footsteps. It was hard to see in the dark, the flashlight fixated on her ankle as she tried to saw off the hand with her knife, breaking the fingers and trying to pull it off.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck . . . you stupid fucking hand!" she cried out, hearing the groans coming closer. Finally, she was able to pry it away from her foot, and scrambled to grab her gun and flashlight up from the ground. Joey didn't even have time to shoot at the others following in her wake, but bolted toward the door ━ limping gently from the pressure when she hit the ground. The door was unlocked, but barricading from the outside, and she pushed at the door with all her might to be able to get it open. It started to give, the items on the other side collapsing to the grass beneath it. The rotters inched closer and Joey swore she was going to succumb to their slimy, hungry teeth, until she was able to make a passage wide enough to squeeze herself through. Landing on the other side with a thud, and wincing when her arms hit the ground first, the door slammed shut behind her. "Shit," she whispered to herself, eyeing the scrapes on her elbows and forearms, and the broken skin on her palms. Her callouses had been torn open again, and irritated blood peeked out from under the skin.
Joey let her back fall to the sidewalk, trying to catch her breath, before she checked for bites on the flesh. There was none, to which she let out a sigh of relief. Sweat beaded on her forehead, hair stuck to the skin on the back of her neck. Her hands shook slightly with nerves before she was able to push herself up off the ground. There wasn't any noise coming from the outside, but she limped her way around the building. The door Bill was supposed to come out of was vacant, and she couldn't hear him or have any suspicions of Bill having got out. "Bill!" she called out, trying to walk faster, which prompted her ankle to declare war on the rest of her body. She limped.
"Bill! Where are you!" her voice went from a normal speaking level to something a bit louder, looking around the other corner of the building. There was blood on the ground, and she bent down to swipe it up with her fingers. It was fresh. "No, no . . ." her walk turned into a jog, but she didn't care about the pain from her ankle. "Fuck, fuck, fuck . . ."
She had made her way around the perimeter of the building, with no sign of Bill, besides a trail of blood. She followed it to the side where she exited. There he was, standing and facing the door, which had been torn down with rotters pouring out and knocking over everything. He wasn't moving as they made their way toward him. He must have taken a nasty cut to the arm, as it was dripping blood. He didn't even lift his gun or try to run. Joey nearly wanted to push him back and take over herself, but instead she just shot at one of them to let him know she was there. He looked almost dead inside as he turned around in shock, the grace of a smile piercing his stone face. It seemed as though a new life went through him before he fought back against the rotters as well, grabbing her by the arm as they ran their way to safety through the trees. When they were far enough from the herd, Joey had fallen down. Her ankle ached under the pressure. "Wait, wait," she called out, rubbing the muscle with her hand before Bill had swooped down to engulf her in a hug.
Joey wasn't sure how she felt. On one hand, she felt uncomfortable. Bill hardly even talked to her, let alone showed affection. Sometimes Joey thought he despised her from the way he acted ━ not to mention the fiasco of the night before. He almost deprived himself of water (that she would boil clean) in protest. He was comparable to a giant man baby. But, on the other hand, he was almost like a father to her. Almost. Nothing could ever amount to actually having a father, but he seemed to be the closest she could get to one. Never, ever would she confess that to him.
"Uh . . . this is nice," she muttered, wrapping her arms around him as well. "Okay . . . now I can't breathe," she choked, patting him on the back.
"I thought you were dead," his voice sounded like it was wavering. Joey furrowed her brows, but broke the hug. She waved her hands in the direction of herself, shaking her head. "Only half dead," her skin was bruised, scraped and dirty, and she felt as though her ankle was about to fall off. Bill ruffled her hair. "I mean, you do look dead," he joked, and she punched his shoulder. "You're pretty bad yourself,"
He cracked a grin, helping her up by her hands. "You okay to walk?"
She shrugged, rolling around her ankle. "Yeah, yeah, I should be fine - just a little pressure," she leaned on his shoulder, his other hand going around her waist to keep her up right.
Joey tried to think of the life they would have when they reached Colorado. Perhaps the safe zone would have other kids her age. Maybe they could ski on the slopes or ice skate. Years from now, when she's an adult, will Bill still be around? Will a normal life not be too out of reach? How long would the pair of them stick together?
She cared about him, despite her inklings to think otherwise. He was a gruff old man with nothing but dismay for everyone and everything - maybe a normal life was something he needed to loosen up. But the hug was progress if it was anything. His rock hard facade was chipping way day by day. But it only took one sour look or mention of Ellie to send him back to square one. Joey feared the worst would happen. But, at this point, everything was. When he thought she was dead, he was going to let himself to die too. That had to mean something. Everything meant something.
authors note: heyyy so i kind of hated this chapter, its lowkey just a filler chapter. they're in nevada right now so only like one more state to go (and then about two more chapters) before they're in colorado. but! i was going to make this section of the book like ... fifteen chapters? but i feel like i can get their journey to alexandria like .... ten. because if i keep writing the whole journey, i feel as though it can seem grueling and repetitive. but let me know what you guys want!!!! i always appreciate feedback <3