Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4564332.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      The_Last_of_Us
  Relationship:
      Ellie/Joel_(The_Last_of_Us)
  Character:
      Ellie_(The_Last_of_Us), Joel_(The_Last_of_Us), Bill_(The_Last_of_Us),
      Yvette, Arkady
  Series:
      Part 2 of One_More_Trip
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-13 Updated: 2016-06-20 Chapters: 7/? Words: 25432
****** One More Trip (II) ******
by sasha_t
Summary
     After Joel and Ellie leave Jackson, they have the whole US to
     explore, as well as their feelings for each other.
     Companion piece: Nettles
***** Snow in May *****
“HYA!!!”
Slapping Atlas's sides hard with his heels, Joel leaned forward and stood up on
the stirrups, maintaining a few inches of clearance between himself and the
saddled cluster of writhing muscle beneath. Ellie wasn't so lucky. Sitting
behind Joel on the rump of the galloping horse, the space above them so opaque
that the pellets of icy water shooting downward were the only proof of a sky,
she felt Atlas's every thundering step almost shake loose some part of her
anatomy. Man, it's like riding on a hurricane. One with a bad limp. Owww...
This wasn't a particularly fast horse. It had been bred for pulling heavy
things through the dirt and mud rather than for cruising above the ground like
a swallow. But it quickly did what it was supposed to do: put distance between
the two escapees and a town full of madmen.
“C'mon, boy!” Joel continued to urge Atlas forward, away from Jackson and into
the infected expanse, tightly whipping the horse's neck with the thick leather
reins.
“Joel! Ease down, we're clear!” shouted Ellie in a breathless staccato,
frantically clutching Joel's shoulder. The rainwater stung her eyes like hell.
“We ain't stoppin' till we're past that tree line,” he shouted back.
“What tree line?! We can't see anything! Neither can they!”
“Jus' hold on!”
As they broke a path into the ravine just behind the blush of birch trees
rustling in watery fury, Atlas's pace slowed to a vigorous trot, and the bone-
breaking claps of thunder could be heard clearly once more. So could Ellie's
heart pounding in her ears.
Neither the horse's trot not the rain let up until late into the evening, when
Joel and Ellie were at the front door of a simple log cabin. It looked spruced
up and then abandoned. Joel dismounted first.
“I'll keep the motor running, boss," she said, shivering.
Her attempt at humor, so obviously laced with the sense of guilt that she
became aware of only at that moment, fell flat on all sides. She slid into the
warm saddle. Every time she sat there after Joel, there was a comforting tingle
running down her legs and up her spine. Not today. For some reason she couldn't
pinpoint, it felt wrong to give in to it, to enjoy the sensation. Like she'd
done something so unforgivable that she'd never lay eyes on Joel again. Her
chest scrunched up as she watched him meticulously scan the perimeter of the
house for signs of danger. He went inside, shotgun at the ready, slowly putting
one tense foot in front of the other.
Thump-creak, thump-creak, thump-creak, thump-creak...
If we're ambushed, I might as well jump off a cliff. Or drink bleach. Or... Why
doesn't he see me? Why doesn't Joel see me at all? Because I'm young and
stupid, duh. I can't do anything about young, but stupid I can work with. So.
In how many lifetimes am I gonna catch up to him? Arrrrrggggghhhh.
“House is clear! C'mon in!” came Joel's voice from somewhere deep inside the
cabin.
They changed into their dry clothes and unpacked. Not many words were spoken.
Ellie put her Rocket League disc case and her Jak goggles in plain sight on the
kitchen table right in front of Joel. She stole glances from time to time,
trying to read his face. He didn't seem to notice anything. She waited for him
to pull out her snow globe and huff and puff as usual, but he took it out of
his backpack, looked at it, and placed it on the table between his ammo and a
bag of rice. He didn't say a word, didn't frown, didn't snort. A crushing wave
of despair washed over Ellie. I'm such a ditz! Why do I even care???! The tears
in her eyes felt so enormous they weighed down her forehead; she took to
scrutinizing the holes in her jeans right above the left knee.
“Who's fixin' dinner?” Joel asked blankly.
Okay, so now he's the fuckin' Sphinx.
“I will,” replied Ellie, trying to huddle her unruly tears back into her
swollen eyelids.
More silence as Joel cleaned his guns and Ellie cooked rice and lentils. She
went outside to find a clear pool of rainwater. At the back of the log cabin,
she found beautiful clean water gathered within the folds of a plastic sheet.
It had probably served as the roof of a greenhouse at some point. As she
carefully lifted one end of the sheet against the aluminum pot she had with
her, the liquid began to roll. It seemed as if she was about to cook with all
the tears she'd sent up to that ornery sky for the past 17 years.
At least, it's salty. Cause rice and lentils... Bleah. Goddammit, I forgot to
pack salt.
She shook her head, making her way back to the log cabin. Death seemed like a
vacation. The upshot of her miserableness was a soggy, bland mixture of
overcooked rice and undercooked lentils frothing helplessly inside the aluminum
pot. She gave Joel the pot first; they couldn't share even this little
misfortune on account of her immunity and his lack thereof. He took a spoonful
into his mouth. The foulness of the dish took him by surprise; he blurted,
“Good!” and gave a disoriented nod. He pushed the half-eaten contents back to
Ellie.
She took a spoonful and gagged. “Delish.”
Dinner came and went. The aluminum pot and spoon were washed and put away, and
the two sat in silence. It was almost pitch-dark. Ellie wanted to tell Joel.
I'm so sorry. It was probably my fault. Not probably. 1000%. If I hadn't
blabbed like a retard, we'd be riding out of Jackson in style in that mini-van
together with Tommy and Maria. We might even have been able to wait another
year, to see Tommy get well, to see Olivia grown. I fucked up big-time, Joel. I
fucked up and I can't undo it. I made you choose between your brother and me.
I'm so goddamn sorry...
She was exhausted. She stood up.
“I'm pooped. I'll turn in now. Goodnight.”
“Ellie, do you have somethin' to tell me?”
When Ellie finally mustered enough courage to look at Joel, she found him
peering squarely into her soul. The hurt was incredible. She couldn't get the
words out.
“What did you tell Morgan Simms 'bout me?” he asked.
Morgan? Oh my god, that's right, he took back the Jak goggles from her... Oh
god... Ellie felt her cheeks gorge with hot blood.
“That... you and I had... that we'd... done it.”
“Was that all?”
Oh fuck... Ellie felt the floor beneath her cave in.
“Uh,... I told her you...” She was too ashamed to go on.
Joel stood up, stepped to the side and slid the chair under the table. “I ain't
that guy, Ellie.” He left the kitchen.
The feeling of rejection she felt at that moment was the most excruciating
thing she'd ever endured. She couldn't move. Every guilty breath she took
seemed to morph into the habitual leeching off of other people's good will that
studied idiots practice with gusto. The kind of trash Ellie hated most.
Joel, please don't leave me. I love you.
You don't talk dirt 'bout people you love, Ellie.
Jesus, why so finicky all of a sudden??! Why do you care what they think?
I don't.
Then why?
You got no right to paint me in those colors.
I didn't mean it!!! It was all a joke to drive Morgan up the wall!
And look what it gotcha. Almost raped, maybe even killed. No home, no food,
nothin' but more runnin' and hidin'.
I still have you. Don't I?
That ain't the issue.
What's the issue, then? That you're not a pussy-crazy grunt? I think that's
been scientifically established.
Do you understand what that means?
It's painfully obvious, old man.
Then do you even get why that was so off-puttin'?
But I always have a potty mouth! It doesn't mean anything!
This was different. It was vulgar. You ain't like that.
Well I guess you don't know me then.
Guess not.
Ellie now felt even lonelier than before. Drained of all traces of mirth for
eternity. She dragged herself upstairs, trudged into a room at random and
curled up on a bare mattress. She felt she had no right to take up any space in
the universe.
Joel came back into the house, having soothed his anger somewhat. He sat at the
kitchen table again, staring into space.
What were you thinkin' kid?
I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry...
I know you're sorry. That ain't what I'm after.
Aaaaaagggghhh, then I have no fucking idea what you want from me!
I wanna know where all that came from.
It's... I wanted...
What is it, Ellie? What do you want?
You.
He took Ellie's snow globe from the table and lifted it to the moon's pale
beam. The snow flakes twirled around inside the little round world made up of a
house, a man and a woman. This is sappy, kiddo, and you ain't the sappy one of
the pair. The candor of the wintry world in his hands touched him deeply. It
was meant as a joke. Her way of mending fences, making amends. Of showing
affection for an old grumpy man. She put weird things in his backpack all the
time. One time, he found a blue pinwheel when he was out hunting. He had to
explain himself in front of his hunting buddies. Now he hadn't given the snow
globe a second glance. She'd waited patiently for him to cuss like always, but
that moment never came.
He then noticed Rocket League and the Jak goggles glimmering in the moonlight,
humbly sitting among all their gear.
What am I gonna do with you, girl? You're waitin' for something that'll never
come.
Joel turned the snow globe upside down, his heart heavy with remorse and
longing. A snow storm raged inside the little world. White, blithe and fragile,
like Ellie's adoring face.
Don't look at me like that.
Like what?
All puppy-like. I ain't goin' for it.
What, because you're married?
Among other things.
Meaning I'm immune and you're not?
No, that ain't it.
Ugh. Would you at least try to advance to widower? At this stage it might be
healthier. Just saying.
That's insultin'.
Dude, you can't mourn somebody forever.
I ain't mournin'.
Then I don't stand a chance, do I?
His feet brought him to Ellie's bedroom door. She was choking on huge sobs
inside. He opened the door, sat on the bed next to Ellie's turned back and
sighed heavily. He leaned over her and put the snow globe on the dusty
nightstand in her line of sight.
In an instant, she sat up, twisted around and threw her arms around him, almost
wrestling him to the floor. Her hiccupy weeping was pummeling his chest.
“Please don't leave me.”
“What are you on 'bout, girl? Who's leavin' ya?”
“Please, I won't do it again.”
“Shush, stop cryin' or you'll break.”
“I know I don't know much, but please don't leave me.”
“Ellie, there ain't nothin' in the world that'll make me wanna leave you.”
He pulled her away from him just enough to be able to look into her eyes and
cup her face. With his thumbs, he wiped away every tear, one after another.
They kept rolling down, he kept catching them.
“Now straighten up. A girl like you should never have to beg. B'sides, I ain't
as great as you think.”
She grinned through her tears, snuffled, and boisterously lifted herself up on
her knees, all the while leaning forward so as not to lose Joel's touch on her
face.
“Who thinks you're great?! You're 500 years old!!!” Oh fuck, I shouldn't have
said that. Why do I keep making the same mistake over and over? Dummy dumdum!
“And what else?” chuckled Joel, letting his hands drop to the mattress.
“Um, I can't think of anything else.” She really couldn't.
“There, my point exactly. One day, though, you'll meet a guy who's smarter,
more skilled, much kinder and more fetchin' and you'll realize you've been
daydreamin' 'bout a nobody.”
“That won't happen. Nobody'll ever be as old as you.” Fuck, I did it again!
“Old is old, kid. No way around it.”
“I'm into dotage. I'm weird that way.”
“Hush, girl. You're creepin' me out.”
“It's the new cannibal chic!”
They burst out laughing. Joel kissed Ellie on the forehead and tucked her in.
Then he went downstairs, did one more sweep of the house and immediate
surroundings, and fell asleep, bone-tired, on the dusty brown leather sofa in
the day room.
Ellie didn't sleep a wink. The place that Joel had kissed, right above her
frown, was a wondrous blend of gossamer and numb.
Next morning, as soon as the first rays of the sun overflowed into her room,
Ellie got up, all stiff and achy from having forced herself to lie down for 9
hours. Gotta find him. Gotta tell him we've got important business. He'll freak
out. This is gonna be epic! She found him snoring softly on the sofa
downstairs, his right arm lifted over his head.
Jesus, he's so damn cute! Look at his hair, the way it curls up around his
ears. His mom must have been crazy in love with him when he was little. Tino
said that's what moms do with boys. Joel as a little kid... Man... So easy to
imagine, it's spooky. Bet the older girls in the neighborhood were all over
him, putting ballerina tutus on him, playing make-up with him. He probably put
up with it like a trooper. All the cheek-pinching, the sloppy smooches from old
ladies and aunts. He probably never pulled a girl's hair or looked up her
skirt.
That there's where you're wrong, young'un.
What? I'm shocked, Joel. Uh, please tell me you didn't hear all that!
Don't you know by now? I hear and see everythin'.
Ellie stifled a ginormous giggle and held her breath, uncertain about the next
course of action. Should I wait here and will him to wake up with my Mark 5
mental multi-phaser ray-beam, or should I tickle him? I'll tickle him.
On tiptoe, her back arched like a lioness about to pounce, she turned around
and made her approach from the back of the sofa. Don't creak, floor... don't
creak, floor... She listened. Long, even, deep breaths. Good. She stuck her
tongue out mischievously, concentrating on her imminent prey. Her hand was now
hovering an inch over Joel's ribs, his body heat radiating around her fingers.
Just as she was about to go in for the kill, one of his eyes opened. It looked
down at her hand and then up at her face. He quickly grabbed her wrist and
pulled her over the backrest, onto him and down onto the floor in front of the
sofa, cupping her head.
“Bastard!” she guffawed.
“Get up, we're goin' trout fishin,” he said, smiling.
Ellie was taken aback. She had something entirely different in mind. For now,
though, downing a couple of grilled trout seemed oddly appropriate. For now.
But, yeeeesh, fishing is so gonna cramp my style!
“With our bare hands? You intend to make a cave-woman out of me?”
“Matter of fact, I found some gear in the tool shed. Even you'll enjoy it.”
“Don't tell me it's a sharp stick.”
“Close. It's a harpoon.”
“Wow. It's still here?”
“Somebody left this place in a hurry.”
“No shit. Our brethren in Jackson ring a bell?”
“Sounds 'bout right. We gotta move. Just see what else you can find. Kitchen
table.”
Ellie checked out the kitchen table first, to see what Joel had already found.
A map, a compass, a rusty machete and a can of bacon. Good stuff! She rapidly
gave the drawers and closets upstairs a once-over. Things were back to normal.
They were Joel&Ellie, Ellie&Joel again. She was walking on the clouds of
Antares's fifth planet, Margarine. She came downstairs with a can opener, clean
rags and a half-full bottle of gin. She distributed everything into their two
backpacks while Joel checked the basement for more loot. He climbed up, dusted
off his hands against his thighs.
“Nothin'.”
“Let's get cracking, then. By the way, in which direction are we cracking
today?”
“Lake Seminoe. It's a ways east of here.”
Ellie's effusive tone turned tentative. “You think Tommy and Maria'll be OK?”
“They better be,” murmured Joel, letting out a pained sigh.
“I'm so sorry, Joel.”
“Nothin' to be sorry 'bout.”
They found Atlas grazing peacefully in front of the cabin, an almost empty pail
of water beside him. Joel patted his rump. “That's a good boy.”
As Ellie mounted behind Joel, she rallied up her best bravery and spoke. “Uh,
sir? I forgot the salt. Please don't kill me. Is there any place around here we
might find rock salt? What does your map say?”
Joel snorted. “It don't got that kinda info. We're gonna have to go old-
school.”
“Ah, malnutrition.”
“Yes, ma'am. Try not to sweat.”
“In this heat?!”
***** Algae *****
Chapter Summary
     Ellie and Joel go fishing. Things go badly wrong.
“How do you know so much 'bout fishin'?”
“I read up on it. You know, in case you go senile and I have to force-feed
you.”
“Well then, I reckon you'll also have to wipe my behind.”
“What can I say, it's the path of the warrior.”
Ellie had led the way to a particularly good spot for catching not only fish,
but also crabs. The landscape was glorious. Lofty trees, towering rocks, a hill
nearby dotted with pricklypear cacti in variegated bloom. The shore of the lake
had an odd shape where Ellie chose to alight: half of it led abruptly into a
deep watery hollow, while the other half was a moist sand beach with small
rocks for all sorts of critters to climb under. There was an excellent vantage
point for resident harpoonist, Ellie Williams, private first class according to
post-Cordyceps martial law. She asked Joel to tie Atlas to a tree nearby and
grabbed the harpoon crossbow from his backpack. Somebody had put a lot of work
into the weapon. It even had a spinning reel and line. She couldn't wait to try
it out. Joel was relegated to spotter, a mission he accepted with some
misgivings, as his eyesight had begun to fail of late. He still saw pretty much
as accurately as before, but things were a bit hazy, as though he had a very
thin piece of silk over his eyes. Ellie had noticed, but didn't tease him about
it, didn't mention it. Calling him old when he was evidently doing better than
most 30-year-olds was one thing, calling him blind when he might actually be
losing his sight was another. And after the debacle in Jackson, she knew better
than to open her mouth without thinking things through ten times.
“See anything?” she whispered from atop the highest rock. She was already
kneeling, ready to take steady aim. Seeing him squint as he scanned the surface
of the water, her heart felt heavy with worry and the urge to hug the daylights
out of him. She dreaded the day he'd start feeling useless to her.
“Na-uh, keep quiet,” he whispered back. Damn eyes... He blinked and frowned,
focusing on the water.
Ellie saw a faint shimmer a few feet away just below the surface but ignored
it. As hungry as she was, she swore to only shoot at the ones Joel spotted for
her. A few more minutes passed.
You know you can rely on me, right, Joel?
I know, baby girl.
Then you'll lean on me when you have to, right?
Reckon these old bones might do just that. You have gained weight, after all.
Carryin' me'll be a cinch.
Are you, like, teasing me about my weight? Cause gaining weight isn't exactly
the most unflattering thing you can do these days. Well, actually, that's not
true. There's Bill. 
Say what you will, guy's stubborn.
Because he's got a fat ass?
Sure. Ain't no apocalypse that's gonna change who he is. Gotta admire that.
You haven't changed either. And, it saddens me to say, you never will.
Oh, I've changed plenty.
You've got more white hair, I'll give you that.
That, too, chubs.
“There,” whispered Joel, pointing to Ellie's left. She aimed and fired off the
steel arrow, its stocky nylon fishing line uncoiling from the spinning reel
with a furious swoosh.
“Boosh!” Ellie reeled the trout in. “Yikes, that's slimey!” She hated raw fish.
Especially ones well enough to look like they were sizing her up.
“One down, five to go,” said Joel, pulling the trout from the arrow and tossing
it on the rock.
“Five? And what are you gonna eat?”
“Comedienne, huh?”
“I'm dead serious here. Don't stand between a hungry woman and her dinner.” A
hungry woman on her period. Which, it has to be said once and for all, sucks
bollocks. Why do I need this aggravation when I'm definitely not gonna have
babies? But somebody up there has decided in their infinite wisdom that there's
an off-chance I might have one some day and for that one in seven gazillion I
have to feel crappy and cranky and woozy like the universe chewed me up and
spat me out every goddamn month and bleed pints out of my pussy, which it looks
like I'm never gonna get to use anyway, and lose my precious iron in the
process. Fucking hell. Somebody up there didn't account for zombie apocalypses.
Or prudish old men. Did I mention fucking hell?
Ellie waited for Joel to zoom in on the next fish. One down, two, three... She
missed the fourth one and the arrow kept dashing into the blue-green abyss.
When the spinning reel finally stopped whirling, she tugged gently on the line,
but it wouldn't give.
“I'll get it,” sighed Joel, taking off his boots.
You're not taking off your jeans and shirt? Seriously? Figures. That's it. I'm
gonna die an old maid. If I don't starve to death first.
He jumped head first from the high rock, diving in with no splash, no waves,
hardly any sound.
Guy's like a cat. I swear, if he knew how stupid sexy he is, he'd... What would
he do? Nothing. Aaaaarrrrgghhhh!
Surfacing, he swam to the line, grabbed it lightly and dove back down along its
length. Through the murkiness he could make out a rocky underwater terrain and
a lot of algae swaying languidly in the current. He quickly disentangled the
arrow from among the algae and swam up.
“Give it a go!” he shouted as he caught his breath. Ellie twirled the handle of
the spinning reel and pulled back the arrow. “Alright!”
As Joel scrambled back onto the high rock, she caught a glimpse of another fish
right below her. Since he wasn't looking for fish at that moment, she went
ahead and called it.
“Ssssshhhhh!” She aimed. Joel stopped dead in his tracks, dripping lake water
onto the ground like a broken-down sprinkler.
Thump went the arrow, impaling the fish's gut. It was a huge one, golden
yellow.
“Come to momma,” said Ellie, a big grin on her freckled face. She was still
young, but she didn't have that yearling look about her anymore. She wasn't
exactly a full-grown woman, either. Whatever she was, it was all blazing around
her like the morning sun.
Kid's gorgeous! Joel felt his cheeks starting to burn. He looked away.
“Actually, don't come to momma, go to poppa,” she said, barely able to hold the
arrow up to Joel for him to pry it loose from the fish. There was no way around
it. She really really hated raw fish.
“Alright, give it here,” snorted Joel, taking the fish, tossing it onto the
rock. He put his foot next to the arrow and pulled. He flung the fish onto the
pile. Girl can shoot elk with the rest of'em but she can't touch a dead fish
with a 10-foot pole. Gotta teach her to eat sushi. If I can find some good sea
weed to go with it... Hmmm, fresh water. Could be dicey. Lemme have a look see.
“What, pray, is this behemoth?” Even to Ellie's untrained eye, this one was no
trout.
“I believe it's called a pike. 15-pounder, I'd say.”
“Huh. You might be in luck, then. I'll give you a trout. You know you signed up
for the scaling and the gutting, right?”
“That a fact?”
“Yeah.”
“When did I do that?”
“The day we met.”
“And what else did I sign up for?”
“A lot of things.”
“You don't say.”
“You know, you shouldn't go around making promises. I'm a good sport, as luck
would have it, but people are generally not as forgiving.”
“Duly noted. How am I doin' so far?”
“Mmmmm, pretty good. Room for improvement in some areas, such as -”
“Shhh! There.” Joel pointed to the water. They didn't need more fish, but Joel
wanted to end the conversation before it went to where it was heading. He'd
helped it along, which made him feel even worse for cutting it short. The hell
am I doin'?
Ellie crept up to the lip of the rock and knelt. She aimed. Vroooom! The arrow
broke the water's surface and the fish's silvery skin in one graceful salvo. It
was a trout again.
“Alright, I'm gonna look for some greens. Don't go eatin' everythin' while I'm
gone,” said Joel, preparing to dive.
“Can't promise anything, except that I'll be thinking of you,” grinned Ellie,
hungrily eyeing the pile of wriggling fish beside her.
Joel was once again hovering over the algae, examining the lot. Looks good.
With the rice we got, it'll be perfect. Just as he was about to reach for his
knife, he felt something rough press his arms tighter and tighter against his
torso. It was a rope. He spun around in the water. A guy was holding the other
end of the rope and dragging him down. He tied the rope around a big rock on
the bottom of the lake and disappeared. Joel writhed and twisted, trying to
free his arms, but the rope was too low and too tight. He desperately needed
air. His stomach spewed its entire reserve of acid. The knife was still in his
pocket, which he couldn't reach. He felt hot tears shooting out from his eyes
into the icy water.
Not now, not like this! God, no, no! Please, God, no! Please keep Ellie safe!
Ellie... He lost consciousness.
On the rocky shore, two guys had grabbed Ellie and a third was coming out of
the water. They were from Jackson. The one who was holding Ellie's arms from
behind was growling to his buddy.
“Hurry the hell up, for chrissakes, we don't have time to waste!”
“What's the hurry? Miller isn't gonna bother anybody any time soon. Is he,
Gary?”
The drenched hunter shook his head as he approached. “Nope, he's a goner.”
“Well, then, let's have ourselves a party, gents. We've got a little lady
willing and able to entertain us now that her beau's gone, and we've got a
shitload of fish ready to grill.”
“We've got fish and a lady who smells like fish. Get it?”
“Yes, we get it. What else?”
“Some gin,” mumbled the wet guy, who was rooting through Joel's backpack.
Ellie felt her knees give. Joel... Not Joel... Go, please not Joel... Please...
She felt as if someone had drilled a 5-inch hole clear through her upper torso.
Her first impulse was to give in to her agony, to let whatever was going to
happen happen. Then, in a flash, she remembered Joel's words, spoken in a
moment of respite from hunters, infected, and personal bravado. “Hope ain't the
last to die, kid. Don't rely on hope. Rely on who you are. That's the only
thing you'll ever really have.” He'd said those words knowing fully well what
he was, what he'd done. She couldn't imagine life without this man. She felt
him in every atom of her being. Protecting her. Teaching her. Giving her a
strength she didn't have on her own. Forgiving and gently guiding her every
dark impulse. Urging her to live. Survive. Be herself in this godless world.
For both of them.
“I don't think so, cunt.”
The guy in front of her sneered and shrugged. “Ellie, is it? Suit yourself,
Ellie, we can fuck you just as well after you die. Isn't that right, gents?” He
drew out his revolver. “Hold her still, dammit!”
Jerking every muscle she could control in every direction she could think of,
Ellie kept evading the guy's aim, even though he was pointing the gun from a
foot away. The calloused hands digging into her arms from behind were
tightening their grip, but she was numb to the pain. She was pure fury.
“That's enough! Gary, hold her legs.”
There was no more time. God, please keep Joel safe. I'll be right along. She
suddenly dropped half-way to the ground, forcing the guy holding her to bend
over, and shot up straight, full-force, bashing his face with the top of her
head. Feeling the grip on his hands weaken slightly, she wrenched herself free,
flung her arms upward, behind and around the guy's neck, and yanked his head
down over her right shoulder. At that moment, the gun fired. The bullet punched
a hole through the guy's skull, grazing her underarm.
Without losing momentum, she snatched the gun from the guy in front of her as
the one behind her plopped to the ground, shot him between the eyes. Then she
aimed at Gary. She pulled the trigger. No ammo. Click, click, click. Empty.
A simper grew on Gary's haggard face. He reengaged his approach, baring his
brown teeth.
Ellie dashed to the pile of fish.
“You're gonna throw trout at me?” he cackled.
“I've got something sharper in mind.” She reached into the grass and grabbed
her harpoon, aimed and pulled the trigger. The arrow landed in Gary's brain
stem. Its tail was sticking out of his rotten smirk.
“Joel! Joel!”
Not wasting one millisecond, Ellie took off her sneakers and jumped into the
water. She'd been trapped in dark places before, but none seemed as bleak and
final as the placid depths of Lake Seminoe.
There he was, motionless, eyes closed. He was floating above a cluster of tall,
ribbon-like sea weed. He looked just as blue. Ellie gritted her teeth to stop
from convulsing. She took out her knife and cut the rope from around his arms.
She grabbed his shirt front and with the other arm and her legs she began
pushing water under them, like he'd taught her. The surface seemed hopelessly
far, in another world. Her field of vision started to go dark, she needed
oxygen. There was none nearby, there would probably be none, ever. She kept
moving her arm and legs mindlessly, matching Joel's swimming movements that
kept unfolding in her inner eye like a movie. One more stroke and we're out.
One more. One more. I'm gonna faint...
She gasped. Air! She thrust Joel's head above the surface. Breathe, old man!
Rapidly scanning the shore, she located a good spot to pull him out of the
water. With one hand firmly holding his jaw above the surface, she swam to the
sand and dragged his body as high up as she could. Then she straddled him and
started pushing, more like pounding, his chest.
“Come on, come on!!!!”
Steady rhythm, just like in First Aid. Ellie, don't screw this up! There are no
second chances here.
He wasn't moving.
“Don't do this to me, Joel! Don't you fucking do this to me!”
His body remained still, his skin blue.
“Joel, if you don't wake up, I'm gonna have to do mouth-to-mouth, and even
though it's going to be fantastic, I'd rather have you here for the occasion,”
she grunted, pounding more and more desperately on his chest.
“Dude, seriously, you don't want me to pour my kooties into you. You might turn
and I don't wanna deal with an overwhelming sexual attraction to a zombie!” She
huffed, pounding away.
Calm down, calm down. Fuck, I have to do it.
She dismounted and knelt next to his head. With one hand she pulled down his
jaw and pinched his nose shut, with the other she cupped his nape. Forming a
tight seal around his mouth, she blew, gingerly at first, then more firmly. She
then pulled away. Five quick pushes. One breath. Five quick pushes. One breath.
Five quick pushes. One breath.
Warm water gushed into her mouth. Joel started coughing violently, water
sputtering out of his mouth and nose.
Ellie's eyes shot out tears of insane joy. She put her hands on her face in
disbelief. Thank you, God, thank you! God, I'll be good. I swear on Joel I'll
be the best I can be. Thank you!
She waited for him to regain consciousness, holding his hand, stroking his
hair.
He opened his eyes.
“Ellie?”
“That's me.”
“You okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ugggg....!” He tried to get up but couldn't.
“Just lie down a while.” She stroked the back of his hand.
He lifted his arm weakly, as if to show her something. “Hunters.”
“No more hunters.”
“No more hunters?” His eyes were wide, like those of a child. Only they were
anything but a child's eyes.
“Na-uh.”
He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes again. He was exhausted, needed sleep
almost as much as air.
“Thanks, partner. Much obliged,” he murmured. Did he just call me his partner?!
Then he did something Ellie would remember for the rest of her life. He took
her hand, opened her palm, kissed it and nestled it against his cheek. He
opened one eye. “This don't mean we're engaged or anythin'. If I had a box of
chocolates, I'd give you that, but since I don't got any... B'sides, last thing
you need's sweets.” He glared meaningfully at her curvy arms.
“Did you just call me fat?” chuckled Ellie.
“No, ma'am, a gentleman would never do that. He'd just take away the
chocolates.”
“The said gentleman would first have to give me some!”
“Fair enough. Let's go find some.” He grunted painfully as he stood up. He was
more than slightly dizzy. This was the second time he'd almost drowned. It felt
much worse than the first time. He bent over, propping himself with his hands
on his thighs. His stomach was killing him. Deep breath. Another deep breath.
Calm down. Calm down. We're alive. Thanks to Ellie.
At last, he looked around. Two dead guys with holes in their mugs and a third
with an arrow sticking out from his. He recognized them. The Robinson brothers.
“Your handiwork?” He was genuinely astounded. A whistle of awe escaped his
lips.
“You disapprove?”
“Not my place to approve or disapprove. If I had a hat, I'd take it off to you,
's all.”
“Let's go find one, then. A cowboy hat, of course.”
“Of course.”
He froze. "Ellie, you're... uh..." He was looking down at her jeans.
She looked down. The crotch of her pants was soaked in blood.
"Ah, sorry, technical difficulties. I have to wash up. But I've got another
booboo here you might like to mend." She lifted her right arm and showed him
where the bullet had winged her.
"Christ, c'mere," sighed Joel, retrieving gauze and ointment from Ellie's
backpack. He wound the cloth tightly around her shoulder and made a knot.
When he was finished, he looked up at her with the most tender eyes she'd ever
seen on anybody. She was his partner.
She couldn't look at those eyes for more than a second. She swallowed hard.
Alright, how do I tell him he might turn?
***** Arrorró *****
Chapter Summary
     Joel has to stay locked in a room for three days. Ellie feeds him.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“We'd better find a place quick, 'cause these babies are gonna go bad in a
sec.” Ellie's right arm muscles were quivering, barely able to hold up the
steel arrow sagging from the juicy row of trout. The pike they had to leave
behind, it was too heavy and big. “Not to mention the embarrassing detail of my
bleeding all over Atlas's beautiful gray coat over here.” Sweat beads were
forming on her forehead and upper lip.
And the fact that I have to sit you down and give us some shitty news. But nah,
you're not gonna turn. You can't, dude. I mean, how many times have you stuck
your hands into my open wounds, how many times have you wiped away my tears,
how many times have I sneezed into your face? Some of that must have entered
your body at some point, right? Nah, you're a tough sunuvabitch, you're gonna
be fine. Maybe you're even immune, and we can both keep hopping around in this
massive shit hole like fucking royalty. Please, God, I'm asking you again,
please let Joel live. Please... She imagined Joel with the Cordyceps glint in
his eyes, twitching at her feet, a bullet hole in his temple. She wiped her
forehead and pressed the back of her forearm against her eyes, pushing back the
tears.
“I know, baby, we'll find somethin' soon,” said Joel, scouring the wilderness
around them with his gaze, keeping the horse at a steady but brisk trot. He
felt sweat rolling down behind his ear.
“How about that one?” The shack Ellie was referring to, sliding into view to
their right, looked like it would crumple into a pile of dust at the first
touch. She knew it was a no-go, but she had to say it, to drain away the bad
karma. The more duds we get out of the way, the better the pickings later, eh,
Joel? I sure hope so, cause my arm's gonna fall off pretty soon.
“Next one maybe,” Joel replied, scanning ahead as far as he could, hoping to
recognize a wall, a roof, a chimney, anything that could signify shelter.
Ellie's underarm wound was throbbing; it needed proper treatment. The already
stifling late May heat was taking sides: against Joel and Ellie, and with the
gazillion germs thriving and multiplying for reasons of their own in this
forsaken part of the All. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and with her
left hand clenched the top of Joel's backpack even tighter, involuntarily
pulling it toward her and down. Joel felt the tug, as if someone had tossed a
10-pound dumbbell into his backpack, but didn't say anything.
“Hey, you see that?” he asked over his shoulder, pointing to his left. There
was a tree, and a dark-violet butterfly was fluttering in and out of the dense,
bright green foliage. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing he could think
of to keep Ellie preoccupied with something other than her period, the raging
sun or the fish decomposing on the iron stick. Ellie opened her eyes, saw
Joel's outstretched left arm taper to a point at the tip of his index finger.
Her focus settled about 20 feet away, on the prettiest shade of violet dancing
among the leafy branches of an extremely odd little tree.
“The butterfly?”
“Yeah. Kinda pretty, ain't it?”
Joel, you're officially the sweetest man to ever walk the Earth. Thank you.
And, although my brain is turning to mush as we speak, I love you like crazy.
There. “Did I ever tell you that violet is my favorite color?”
“I thought it was red.”
“That's what I like to wear. But violet's what I'd wear if I were a blonde or
brunette.”
“A blonde Ellen Williams.... That don't ring true.”
“Don't knock it until you see it! What's your favorite color?”
“Green.”
“Really? Not blue?”
“Blue's good, too.”
“See, that's the difference between chicks and guys. Chicks have one favorite
shade and they stick to it. Guys aren't so particular. No wonder women expect
to be cheated on.”
Joel chuckled. “You expect to be cheated on? Never took you for the mousy
type.”
“Me? Nah. I was speaking in general. I don't expect anything. But why do guys
cheat?”
“Well, main reason's their insane sex drive. It's like feelin' starved all the
time.”
“So, nothing personal.”
“Oh, it's personal. A guy in love won't stray.”
“Huh. How about women? Why do they cheat?”
“It usually happens when they don't respect their man.”
“Have you ever cheated?”
“No. You?”
“Nah. My tiny brain can't take more than one crush at a time. Besides, it's too
much hassle. I hate exerting myself more than strictly necessary, as you well
know.”
“As I well know,” laughed Joel.
“So what's it called?”
“What?”
“The butterfly.”
“Uh, I think it's a hairstreak. But you can call it anythin' you want. Don't
see no namin' patrol traipsin' round these parts anytime soon.”
“Connor.”
“It's a guy?” he smiled.
“Duh.”
“Alright then. What's it do?”
“Hellooo, it's a butterfly. It flies.”
“Says who?”
“Then how about this? Wait, let me shift hands. Here we go. Okay. Once upon a
time, there was a...."
Once upon a time, there were a billion stars and a trillion planets, but only
one moon. And on that moon there lived a little girl and a turtle. The turtle
was part of the moon and just as white. It had found the little girl when she
was only a few hours old, bundled up in a blue dress tied with a blue ribbon.
It had raised her as its own. It let her ride on its back, and they circled
around the moon many times. Round and round they went, to and fro, backward and
forward. That's how they created sandstorms.
On her sixth birthday, it told her to put on the dress. The moment she put it
on, she stopped growing. Many thousands of years passed, but she was still the
same little girl, with billowing black locks, large gray eyes and rosy hands,
clothed in a blue dress with a white apron and lacy trimmings. She had a blue
ribbon in her hair.
One day, a spaceship landed on the moon. There was a nice man inside. The
little girl went out to greet him. She waved at him, and, although surprised,
he waved back through the porthole. She invited him to come out and play. He
opened the hatch. The moment he stepped out onto the moon, he died.
The spaceships kept coming, and the little girl kept waving at the astronauts
inside. They kept stepping out and dying.
She began to weep. Nothing the turtle did or said consoled her. She mounted the
turtle and told it to walk to and fro, left and right, here and there. No
matter what happens, don't stop, she told it. The moon spun and spun, and the
sandstorms went on and on. The little girl wanted to make sure visitors stayed
away.
A woman perched on a needle made of light at the other end of the universe took
notice. She had been the one sending the men to the moon. Her astronauts
weren't coming back. They were being swallowed up by something evil. The moon
had to perish.
“But, Your Majesty, we mustn't do that, it's the only moon we have!” clamored
her Advisors.
“It is a blemish on our perfect world. Connor, go!” she commanded. She sent
forth her most valiant butterfly to destroy the moon. One flap of his wings and
it would turn to dust.
The butterfly flew at breakneck speed across the universe. On the way, he saw
things he had never seen before, sights both magnificent and terrifying. He
heard sounds new and confusing, mesmerizing and morbid. Yet he didn't stop. He
flew and flew toward the moon.
As he approached, he noticed through the sandstorm a little girl riding on a
turtle, crying.
“Why are you crying?”
“Go away!”
The butterfly looked at the moon again. It was a piddling thing, easy to
dispose of for one such as himself.
“Come with me,” he said.
“I can't. I have to stay with turtle.”
No matter how much he braced himself, he couldn't bear the thought of
destroying the little girl, the turtle or the moon. How can I make it safe, he
wondered. He had an idea.
“Take off your dress and put this on.” He gave her his wings. She wrapped the
upper right wing around her front, the upper left wing around her back, the
lower right wing around her arms and the lower left wing around her legs. When
she was finished, she had grown so large that the moon fit inside her pupil.
She was a woman. Her wing suit shimmered in all shades of violet and green,
outshining all the billion stars of the universe.
As the nearest sun rose on the tiny moon, the turtle lay down and pulled its
head and feet into its shell. The butterfly died in the woman's arms. The two
vowed to always be together, never apart, for as long as anything existed. The
rising sun was their witness.
“... She became the protectress of all explorers and wanderers, and none would
ever die again. The end.”
For what seemed an eternity, all that echoed was Atlas's hoofs tapping the
rocky terrain.
“That bad, huh?” giggled Ellie.
“No. That was... It was beautiful.” Joel choked on the last words.
For the first time since meeting her, he began to think she might be more than
a cute tomboy. She was skilled and reliable in combat, yes. She could forgo
basic comforts for the sake of the team. She was intelligent and resourceful,
quick on her feet. Humane, playful, slow to suspect foul play. And, of course,
she was very much in love with him. He liked her, and he rarely liked anyone.
That would have been enough to make him accept her as a life partner. But there
was more. This was a woman with soul, more than he ever expected or had the
brazenness to ask for. She had what he wanted most in a woman and only got
once, briefly. For the first time, he began to think he might really fall in
love with her. Hard.
“You got any more of those?” he asked, as casually as he could. He sounded
remote.
“Stories?”
“Hm.”
“Lots.”
“You writin' them down?”
“You mean, like, for the Cordyceps Publishing House?”
“That ain't the point. You got somethin' there. It's called civilization.”
“Wow. Big word.”
“Big word for a big mind.”
Ellie laughed nervously. Such lavish praise coming from Joel, of all people,
for doing something so useless made her feel uncomfortable. Eh, why not? His
birthday's coming up in September, I can put together a... what's it called...
an anthology? I've got tons more festering inside the old noggin, time for a
thorough spring cleaning anyway. Jeez, I shouldn't be thinking like this,
gifting Joel my mind-trash? Yuck. Had no idea he loved this sort of stuff,
though. Makes me feel like Sheherazade. Easy peasy. A whole lot easier than
finding coffee, let me tell you...
“Yeah, that looks good,” he mumbled, squinting toward the right. There stood a
lone mansion, reasonably well preserved, in the middle of a sizable garden gone
wild. Some tall cacti were guarding the front gate. Flowing water resounded
from somewhere behind the house.
They went inside, made sure the house was clear. Mostly stripped bare, but much
better than what they were used to on the road. The fireplace seemed to be in
good shape. Empty buckets here and there, no doubt for hauling in water. Ellie
stood by the kitchen table, undoing the knot on the bandage around her
shoulder. Joel went out to the stream and filled two buckets, grabbed two more,
came back laden. The fish went into one bucket. The others were for boiling: to
drink, to get cleaned up. Next came the hunt for fire wood. On the ground out
back were some dry twigs; he also managed to break some fairly thick branches
off of a gambel oak. An axe woulda been nice. Water was boiling in the aluminum
pot in no time, but it seemed to take forever for it too cool to a comfortable
level. Joel walked to and from the bathroom where Ellie was scrubbing off the
dust, sweat and blood off of her, carrying warm water, dumping it into the pail
in the tub beside her. There was no door. She faced the wall, he didn't look.
“How's your stomach?” she asked, working her precious lavender soap between her
toes.
“Could be better. How're you holdin' up?”
“Dizzy. Hungry. Cranky. Bitchy.”
“Ima start grillin' the fish. Don't be long.”
“Thanks.”
Joel set to work on the trout, gutting and scaling four of them, rinsing them
in the cold river water. He then undid the knot on the fishing line and impaled
two trout with the steel arrow of the harpoon crossbow. Don't want the line
meltin' in the heat. Goddammit, after I grill the lot, this arrowhead's gonna
be no good... Hmph. Wish this fireplace had a fire iron. Coulda grilled four at
the same time. He kindled a low, steady fire, positioned the arrow in front of
the fireplace and pulled up a chair.
Ellie stuck her head out of the bathroom just as he was turning the fish over
onto the other side. “Do you have any more clean rags?”
“No, take my T-shirt, it's clean.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Ellie tiptoed to the kitchen where all the gear was, pulled out the T-shirt
from Joel's backpack and went to the bathroom. She folded it and lined her
fresh panty with it. She came out of the bathroom, pulling up her bermuda
shorts. “I'll take it from here. You go wash,” she said.
While Joel was taking his bath and the fish were sizzling, Ellie went outside
and gave Atlas a quick scrub, washing away not only her maiden blood from the
top of his rump but also the sweat he'd worked off bringing them here. Placing
a pail of cool river water in front of him, she patted his neck and went inside
for the late, but sumptuous, lunch. Rice, grilled trout, and the can of beans
to replenish all the salt lost under the sun. It was around 3:30 in the
afternoon, the laziest hour even after the outbreak. Some things never change.
An hour later, Joel and Ellie were savoring the last of their strawberry jam.
They were clean, their bellies bursting full. The afternoon was carefree,
tranquil. They were slouching on the living room sofa, tired to the bone, about
to doze off. Ellie's mind was numb. She figured Joel's must be, too. Perfect
time to plant the bomb.
“Joel?”
“Hm.”
“I gotta tell you something.”
“Mh-hmh.”
“I... uh... There's no cute way to say this. I gave you mouth-to-mouth.”
It took a few moments for this piece of news to register. Joel darted onto his
feet like he was stung by a wasp. He stroked his beard, frowning, staring hard
at something. “Oh, boy.” He took a deep breath, nodded. “Alright. This is what
we're gonna do. You're gonna lock me up inside a room. We'll wait three days,
just to be sure.”
“Okay. I'll keep us both safe,” nodded Ellie.
“Let's do it.”
Joel took with him the rope from his backpack and a pail of water. Ellie
brought the soap, a towel and the El Diablo, in case he had to defend himself.
Upstairs, at the end of a hallway, they decided on the perfect room. The
windows were boarded up, it was dark and relatively cool. There was direct
access to a bathroom, but no way out other than the door to the hallway. There
was a bed, but no mattress. Actually, there was no mattress anywhere in the
house.
“Now, I'm gonna tie my leg to the bed post. You prop a chair under the door
knob. You don't open the door unless I say so. Yeah?”
“Sure thing.”
“And if I turn, you know what to do.”
“I know.”
They had discussed the possibility before; living in such close proximity,
they'd had this conversation barely into their first month of traveling
together. But now the scenario was actually unfolding. Neither of them could
believe it. Each wanted to hold the other so badly, their bodies hurt like one
giant bruise. They stood still, one inside the dark room, the other out in the
hallway, staring at each other. Joel felt his heart break; he stepped out and
crushed Ellie to his chest. Ellie threw her arms around his waist and pushed
him into her as hard as she could. She breathed in his scent, reassuring and
warm, like the faded color of his green plaid shirt.
Come back.
I'll try. Wait for me.
Always.
The first night, neither of them slept. Every five minutes Ellie would ask Joel
if he had a fever, if his body felt strange in any way, if he was more
irritable than usual, how his stomach was doing. He told her he was having
everything she asked about except the fever. She would knock on his door, bring
him food and water. She also brought him something they'd both neglected: the
doody pail. Around sunrise, she fell asleep on the creaky floor boards next to
the chair propping shut the bedroom door.
“Ellie. Ellie.” He knocked softly on the door. Nothing. “Ellie!” He banged on
the door with his fist.
“Huh?!” she started, her heart doing flip-flops inside her rib cage. She'd only
been asleep a few minutes.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I fell afleef,” she yawned.
“I'm sorry, go back to sleep. Don't sleep on the floor.”
“Okay.” She stretched out on the floor and fell asleep.
The next day and night were just as uneventful. Unbearable. The drone of their
hearts pounding relentlessly stretched time to an insanely slow pace. Ellie
couldn't keep still. She did the laundry, scrubbing the hell out of Joel's and
her jeans. At around 11 a.m. on the third day, she went outside, caught a hare,
skinned it and gutted it. She hung it over hot coals in the fireplace. A
delicious smell of charred meat wafted through the house.
“Ellie, you cookin' somethin'?” hollered Joel.
“It's hare,” she shouted from downstairs.
“Smells good.”
“Ten more minutes, should be done.”
A roasted leg of hare was slipped through Joel's door. A bit dry and
overcooked, but very edible. She ate hers on the other side of the door.
“The Chicago Blackhawks won 5-1 against the Seattle Seahawks,” she informed
him, crunching the joint cartilages between her teeth.
“There goes my mortgage,” he replied, sucking the precious fat off his fingers.
“Wait, the Blackhawks never played against the Seahawks!”
“Gotcha.”
As she tidied up in the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of a familiar shape in
the corner, behind an old, moldy mop.
“Oh my god!” I've got you now, old goat! Not a chance you're gonna weasel your
way out of this one! This is the second time I saved your ass, you're so gonna
do this! Well, technically, this time I might have saved and ended your ass all
at once, but it still counts! Why the hell do I have this sick sense of humor?
I'm about to puke my guts out from grief over these jokes and I still make'em.
There's something very wrong with me, I can tell. She ran upstairs with the
thing and knocked impatiently on the bedroom door.
“Hey Joel, can I open the door?”
“Watcha got?”
“You won't believe this.”
She thrust a dusty guitar into his lap. “It's got all the strings, too,” she
grinned, panting.
He lifted the guitar, turned it on all sides. A full-size D-35 Martin. Smiling,
he strummed once with his thumb. “Looks like I'm cornered.” He began to tune
it. Without lifting his gaze, he said, “Close the door. This ain't over yet.”
Hmph. This may be the last thing I do. Considerin' what my life's been like, it
wouldn't be half bad.
“Only if you play and sing for me.”
“You'd risk your life to hear me sing?” he chuckled, tuning the low E.
“You're that bad, huh?”
“I'll have you know I used to be quite the sensation. Now close the door,
show's about to start.”
Ellie jumped out of the room, closed the door, pushed the chair under the knob
and seated herself, cross-legged right in front of the hinges, her forehead
stuck to the varnished wood. Joel kept tuning.
At last, things turned quiet. He cleared his throat and started picking
arpeggios. 3/4 time, minor key.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Remember me to the one who lives there,
For once she was a true love of mine...
By the final chord, Ellie was lost in a vapory world of dandelions and angel
kisses. This song was new to her. The guy was rusty, but clearly he knew his
stuff. His baritone was the most mellow, most manly she'd ever heard, and he
didn't even sound like he was doing anything in particular. It was just Joel,
speaking in pitch. She felt herself being thrown in love with him all over
again.
“Oh wow... Well, there goes my theory.”
“What's that?”
“That you can't die twice.”
“That good, huh?”
“That good. Do you also take requests?”
“If I know the song, sure.”
“Do you know Love of My Life?”
“You like Queen?”
“Psssh, yeah! So how about it, you know how to play it?”
“Every self-respectin' guitarist knows.”
“Alright!”
“Now keep in mind I haven't touched a guitar in almost 10 years.”
“Play already!”
His voice was a little hoarse and unsure at first, and he had a bit of trouble
finding the chords, but by the end, it was all coming together. He put all his
skill into it, and it showed. But no heart. The song was too close to home. He
couldn't bring himself to believe that he was getting out of this one whole.
He'd been burnt so many times, had had the rug pulled from under him at the
last moment on so many occasions, he preferred to sit this one out. Nothing
could touch him. This, basically, was Joel with a guitar.
The detachment sent shivers up Ellie's spine. None of Freddie's panache, none
of Brian's delicate phrasing. In Joel's hands, the song became weather-beaten,
corroded by unimaginable hunger and thirst, tempered by superhuman endurance.
“Mr. Miller, you're a monster.”
“Why thank you.”
“Play something else. Play a lullaby. 'Cause you know this is the ultimate
test. If you can pull it off, you da boss man!”
“Alright. I'll sing something I used to sing to Sarah.”
Arrorró mi niño,
arrorró mi sol,
arrorró pedazo,
de mi corazón.
Este niño lindo
ya quiere dormir;
háganle la cuna
de rosa y jazmín.
Háganle la cama
en el toronjil,
y en la cabecera
pónganle un jazmín
que con su fragancia
me lo haga dormir.
Arrorró mi niño,
arrorró mi sol,
arrorró pedazo,
de mi corazón.
Esta leche linda
que le traigo aquí,
es para este niño
que se va a dormir.
Arrorró mi niño,
arrorró mi sol,
arrorró pedazo,
de mi corazón.
Este lindo niño
se quiere dormir...
cierra los ojitos
y los vuelve a abrir.
Arrorró mi niño,
arrorró mi sol,
duérmase pedazo,
de mi corazón.
“Wow, what's up with that perfect accent??? That was so sweet! I didn't
understand a word of it, but it was a lullaby, no question. You sang to Sarah
in Spanish?”
“Her mom was Mexican.”
“But Sarah's blonde. Oh, uh, that didn't come out right. I'm sorry. She must
have looked like her mom.”
“Actually, she was the spittin' image of her dad. She... wasn't mine.”
“Oh my god, really?! What happened???” Ellie's mind was reeling. The guy spoke
Spanish, and his daughter wasn't really his. Who are you and where's Joel?
Joel gave a long, heavy sigh, leaning on the guitar. It was all so long ago. He
felt oddly calm and collected, as if it was somebody else's life.
“Her name was Paz. She got involved with a classmate of ours, and when she got
pregnant, the guy wanted nothin' to do with her. She asked me to say it was
mine. Her father was... the brutal sort. I was crazy in love with her, so I
agreed. After we got married, she had Sarah, went away to college and never
came back.”
“But you wanted Sarah to learn Spanish.”
“Sure. It was her mom's language, the language I fell in love through. But
things weren't addin' up for her, and when she was around eight, I had to tell
her the whole story. She quit learnin' Spanish after that. I never managed to
change her mind.”
“Joel, I'm so sorry you got so hurt.”
“Nothin' to be sorry for. You take the good with the bad. Sarah was the best
thing that happened to me.”
“Yeah.” Ellie stared at the rusty hinge. Her blood boiled with fury for the way
life had treated Joel. Each time he opened up to her, the amount of suffering
he'd gone through never failed to hurt her in the deepest part of her soul. How
he was still sane and holding on to life with such dogged energy was
incomprehensible to her. And he still had it in him to be polite, even sweet,
certainly deadly charming when he wanted to. Above all, he gave, like no other
person she'd ever met.
Something suddenly edged its way into her consciousness, startling her: he was
sobbing behind the door.
“Joel, what's the matter? Joel!” She flew into a panic.
A few moments passed, where all she could hear was the effort to breathe
evenly, to articulate, to properly form words and phrases. “Sh... sh... she
took the bullet for me.” His choked up weeping rang through the door and choked
Ellie as well. She pulled out the chair and went in. Joel was sitting cross-
legged on the wooden planks of the bed, elbows on his knees, pressing the heels
of his palms against his eyes. His boots were by the bed. One leg was tied to a
bed post. He was shaking.
Ellie climbed up beside him, took him in her arms. His sobs shook her like
earthquakes. “It's okay, it's okay... She'd do it all over again. It's
okay....” For the first time, Ellie understood what those nightmares of his
were about. A parent's guilt, not only that he wasn't able to protect his
child, but that the child had sacrificed itself so that the parent could live
on.
Joel took a deep, pained breath and gently untangled himself from Ellie's
embrace. “Better go now,” he said quietly, using as few words as he could get
away with.
Ellie nodded, looked deeply into his eyes, checking, confirming. After a few
tortured hours, they fell asleep, Joel on the bed, Ellie on the floor by the
door. She didn't have the heart to prop the door shut.
The sun was setting. Joel woke up and went to the door to ask Ellie how she was
doing. He noticed that the door had been left slightly ajar.
“Jesus, Ellie...”
As he was about to pull the door shut, he caught a glimpse of her lying on the
floor, snoring lightly. He untied the rope from around his ankle. Opening the
door, he lifted Ellie into his arms, carried her downstairs and placed her
softly on the living room sofa. He turned around to go back to his room, when
he felt her hand taking his. Bleary-eyed, she pulled him onto the sofa, made
room for him behind her. As she nestled into his embrace, she pulled his arm
around her, covered his hand with hers and interlaced her fingers between his.
She held his hand above her heart. He smiled faintly, nuzzled her hair.
“Good night.”
“G'night.”
Chapter End Notes
     Here is where I got the lyrics to Arrorró. :)
***** Caramel Latte for the Lady *****
Chapter Summary
     Joel and Ellie share coffee. She doesn't like it. He finds a
     solution.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Even after almost 3 years of living and dying together, there were times when
Ellie found Joel inscrutable. Such as now. It was morning. He was packing their
gear in the kitchen while she was dunking their two water bottles in the fresh
water pail to fill them up for the trip to nowhere in particular. He was acting
normal, mumbling, cussing softly at a hunting knife. But there was something
she couldn't quite pinpoint, something important, as if he was keeping quiet to
avoid attracting attention to himself.
She'd had an odd dream that night: his body was cupping hers in the most
frighteningly intimate way, and he was kissing the back of her head, meltingly
whispering words she couldn't understand, words of gruff whimsy and unspeakable
love, holding his palm over her heart as though to keep it from bleeding out.
When she'd woken up and found him outside adjusting the saddle on Atlas, her
body still felt as if it belonged to him, screaming with a yearning she had no
right to believe in, much less indulge. Her lips felt swollen, sensitive, very
much in need of a long, thorough kiss, from nobody else but him. She rubbed her
mouth to drive away the ache. The dream had been so vivid, she'd almost
confronted him about it. But what would she ask him? Did you make love to me
without making love to me? Did I take you into my body and my soul so easily,
so effortlessly, as if it was all supposed to happen, outbreak and all,
precisely this way since before either of us was born? Are you now pretending
not to know because you're afraid of hurting me? You can never hurt me. That's
not how it works.
She watched him meticulously clasp the two large buckles of the leather straps
securing the saddle to Atlas's midriff, checking and double-checking. He always
took care when handling a horse. Now, though, he seemed to her to be studiously
avoiding her gaze. No, that can't be it. I'm imagining things. Joel would never
lie, not to me, not anymore. But he lied about the Fireflies. No, he didn't.
When he said “I swear”, he pretty much admitted that my suspicion was dead on,
that he'd do it all over again. For me and him. For us. He risked never seeing
me again by telling me the truth.
She felt disoriented, as if she was told to stand up and sit down in a single
command.
In fact, Joel was avoiding her. Not because anything had happened that night.
It was because her whole demeanor was a dead give-away that she thought it did.
As soon as he'd woken up and found himself holding her tightly in his arms, his
body fused with hers across their clothing, he'd experienced the tinge of
horror people feel after a night of drunken debauchery. God, please tell me I
didn't! Thankfully, he hadn't been drunk. He'd fallen asleep after she'd made
him lie down on the sofa behind her. He was so grateful for not having turned,
for her insistent care and compassion, that he hadn't had the heart to refuse.
He'd tried to move the ponytail out of the way using his nose, since she'd
drowsily commissioned both his arms as an escape pod to a paradise he had no
right to trespass. He'd wanted to stay that way, pinned to the gate forever,
looking in. Looking at Ellie's adoring face. Then morning came. Shaking off his
longing, he'd pulled his left arm from under her neck slowly, terrified of
waking her, of having to own up to the hunger in his eyes. As long as he had a
gaping hole in his soul, he wouldn't even think of touching her. That day'll
never come. So be it.
But she was on to him, and he knew it. She wasn't going to let this slip by.
She had no notion of the guilt he felt for having killed so many people. The
guilt he felt for being willing and able to do it again if need be. Even if he
wanted to give up killing, he couldn't. Wouldn't. He was there to guard her,
not to love her. He was there to be used and discarded, because that was the
only way she could thrive. He was, more than anything, her parent. He was never
going to touch her with his tainted soul.
But he was wrong. She knew exactly what his fear was about. It drove her up the
wall. I can't get hurt, old man! Not by you. Alright, clearly I have to mend
you. And I'll do it, so help me God, even if I have to give you up. Life, don't
you cross me on this one! You've been warned. She even tied Joel's guitar to
her backpack. He wasn't going to carry it. If she wanted him to play and sing
for her, she'd have to lug it around.
They rode through the Colorado wilderness and around a few small towns, all
beautifully deserted, stopping from time to time, scavenging, eating, resting
under a roof away from the heat. Ellie came out of a computer repair shop
holding something in her hand.
“Hey Joel, what's Blue Mountain?”
“A mountain that held its breath for too long?”
“Cute. Two more tries.”
“World's best coffee.”
“Huh? Really? Wow, I'm so good I can't stand myself. Catch!” She threw the
unassuming burlap bag with blue print in Joel's direction.
She'd much rather have approached him in a thousand sultry steps, planted a
barely sensed kiss on his hairy cheek and handed him the coffee painfully
slowly, driving him nuts with desire for her. But she didn't have the props:
slinky dress, heady perfume, lipstick. Besides, seductive was something she had
no idea how to do. She'd never needed it before. Not with Riley, not with
anyone. Joel, on the other hand, was a man, the genuine article from back in
the day, when they sometimes made them exquisite, a real challenge. One with a
fine mind and particular tastes. One that would gladly forgo all of that in
favor of being with her. She hated to see him make such a sacrifice. Tomboy
wasn't going to cut it anymore. Then it struck her: he hadn't turned. Which
meant that, if he didn't fall for her, it would be her fault and nobody else's.
She had to up her game fast.
But tomboy was all she had. She'd been groomed to be a soldier, and every
person she'd met back in Boston nudged her in that direction. Nobody had ever
taught her to be a companion, and whatever sweetness she had, it was a raw
diamond, forever in danger of scratching somebody's eye out.
Maybe I shouldn't push. He's obviously not comfortable with the idea. Maybe I'm
not even his type, duh. Did you ever consider that, smartass?. Bottom line, I
love him too much to put him through another hell. No. I'll just be Ellie, the
trusty medic. The daughter. The one with the bad jokes. This is gonna kill me.
So be it.
He caught the pack of coffee in his usual laid-back way, but there was a glint
of guilty excitement in his eyes. An anti-climax, to say the least. If she'd
waited for a more appropriate moment, when there was a real chance they might
grow closer, her gesture would have had meaning. As it was, she only managed to
embarrass him. She mused. Okay, I stumbled on the world's best coffee right
after I said I wouldn't find any. Does this mean it's gonna be hell trying to
get that anthology finished by his birthday? Bollocks. Maybe if I declare right
now that Joel's never gonna fall in love with me, he will by 4 p.m. tomorrow.
She felt in danger of becoming clinically depressed.
“Nice lookin' out,” said Joel, smiling wanly, impressed but uneasy. His
nostrils were already quivering in anticipation, his mouth watering in
expectation of the sweet aroma. “You know these coffee beans grow high up in
the Blue Mountains of Jamaica?”
“You mean, like, on the island?”
“Mh-hmh. Takes a lotta work.”
“Is it expensive?”
“Used to cost a fortune. 50 bucks a pound.”
“So, did you have to sell your house?”
“Nah. I got a pack for my birthday.”
“Wow. Somebody musta liked you.”
“She did. My nan.”
“Nan?”
“Grandmother.”
“Oh. Winston said grandmothers spoil their grandkids rotten.”
“They do, most of'em.”
“Too bad there aren't many of those left.”
“You'd make a great grandmother.”
“A great grandmother?? Okay, so let's skip the wife, mother and grandmother,
shall we? Cause old women in wheelchairs are all the rage right now.”
“Old women know things, kiddo. They can teach you a thing or two. That's a
fetchin' trait.”
“Yuuuuuck! Really, Joel? You're into old women now? What the fuck!!!!”
“How would you feel if people ignored you based on your age?”
“Dude, I can't believe you just said that!”
“There you go, then.”
They were laughing, but Joel felt Ellie's pain more keenly than she herself
did. She'd had no parents, no grandparents, no aunts and uncles, no siblings.
Nobody but faceless, nameless FEDRA bureaucrats moving her around, handing her
from one institution to the next, harassing her until one of two things
happened: either she became a fierce soldier, or she ended up a corpse. He
wanted her to experience kinship. Belonging. Being bound by blood. Feeling
secure in the thought that, no matter what happens, someone would always accept
her unconditionally. Somebody she could call family, away from the anxieties
and tribulations of romance.
“Now let's find a good spot. This marvel needs some lovin' savorin',” he
smiled.
Not far, near a creek, they found a camping site. It was post-card perfect save
for a few PET bottles and plastic bags strewn about. They bothered Ellie; while
gathering twigs for the fire, she gathered up the eye-sore and made an
inconspicuous pile behind a bush. Meanwhile, Joel was looking for two very
particular rocks on the river bed. One of them had to be large and flat, while
the other had to be cylindrical. They would together form a mortar and pestle
for grinding the coffee beans.
First, he roasted a handful of beans in the aluminum pot, not too dark. The
aroma was new to Ellie, strange, underwhelming. That's supposed to be the
mythical nectar called coffee? After letting them cool, he took a few at a time
and pounded them to a coarse powder. When he was done, he brought some water to
a boil in the pot, took it off from the fire and tossed in the coffee grounds.
Finally, he covered the steaming pot with the towel.
Ellie was fascinated by the ritual. She didn't know what to expect. She didn't
know of anyone, besides Joel, who'd had coffee. Maybe Winston had, but she
didn't know enough to ask. Coffee just wasn't something that came up. Not when
the ultimate in radliciousness was downing a beer or whiskey or vodka.
Especially someone else's, someone that could send you flying away from the
MPS, hopefully forever. Back then, she couldn't understand the hype about
getting tipsy, but went along with Riley, Tino and the rest of the gang, eager
to fit in. Alcohol turned her stomach. It was the most vile thing, on a par
with cigarettes. Maybe coffee would be different.
It wasn't.
“Oh my god, dude, it's bitter!!!”
“Be patient, it takes a bit of doin'. Just hold it in your mouth and breathe
out through your nose.”
She took a huge swig, clamped her mouth shut, closed her eyes tight and
breathed in and out a few times. Her contorted face was the funniest thing Joel
had seen in a long time. Her freckled nose was scrunched up. She was just too
darling.
He pressed his lips together into a wobbly smile, trying desperately to keep it
together. “That's right. Feel the zen of the coffee caressin' your nostrils.”
Joel took a small sip, closed his eyes, tilted his head back and gave the most
luxurious, sensuous, satisfied moan she'd ever heard from him. It was
unnervingly erotic.
“Fuck!” she gagged, quickly swallowing.
He burst out laughing. “Looks like we're gonna have to go to Plan B.”
“Yes, please, by all means! Uh, does it involve coffee?”
“Of course.”
“Oh no!”
“Hush, you'll love it. It's called a latte.”
“No more, please! I'm done with coffee for the foreseeable future. Enjoy the
rest of it. Please!”
“You really givin' up that easy? And here I thought we were gonna milk that
water buffalo and mix you a proper Rivers Café favorite.”
Ellie perked up. Sounded like adventure.
“Milk a buffalo? Where?”
“You see that?” He was pointing to the north-eastern horizon. There was indeed
a herd of something moving at a snail's pace not far away, and two of the
animals seemed to be lagging rather far behind. One looked tiny compared to the
other. A female water buffalo and her calf?
“Ooooh! You sure? Isn't it dangerous?” Her voice went low even though there was
nobody around.
“A smidgen. Whaddya say, partner?”
“That was below the belt, partner. Let's rock!”
Joel shook his head and smiled. She was so damn easy. His heart melted each
time. He threw away the coffee from the pot and scrambled up, pot in one hand
and towel in the other. Ellie took with her the bow and arrow, just in case.
They crept up on the two animals and hid in a nearby bush, making sure the herd
wasn't going to change direction. The cow was standing still, munching away at
some low grass. Her horns were black and arched, like Hercule Poirot's
mustache. What that Belgian coot's mustache is doing on this cow's forehead is
beyond me. But it must mean the milk's gonna be awesome. Can't wait to try it.
It's sure gonna beat the powdered plop we used to have back in the MPS.
The calf was insistently head-butting the cow's udder.
“What's he doing?” whispered Ellie.
“He's askin' his mom for milk,” Joel whispered back.
“Wow. You mean, her tits hurt so she doesn't want to give him any?”
“No no, she doesn't make any until he's ready to drink it.”
“Oh. Do all animals do this?”
“Pretty much.”
“I once saw a couple of chicks high up in a nest pull out food from their mom's
throat.”
“There you go.”
“Must have been painful for the mom.”
“Not as painful as seein' her kids starve.”
“Suppose not. But how are we gonna milk her?”
“You keep the little guy away, and I'll walk up to her. Things go south, you
run. Yeah?”
“Yep.”
They crept out of the bush on tiptoe. Joel inched his way to the female
buffalo's side and threw the towel over her head. The cow mooed softly, shook
her head a little. She stayed placid, continued to graze blindfolded.
“Is that some kind of Jedi mind-trick?” Ellie slipped behind the calf and
pulled it away gently.
“Ellie, hold the pot,” Joel murmured, concentrating, kneeling soundlessly near
the udder.
She held the pot under the teats. He started milking, but after a few meager
squirts, nothing more came out.
“Punch her in the udder. Gently.”
“Are you insane??? I'm not gonna punch the poor woman in her boobs!”
“Do it! Easy, easy, don't hurt her.”
“Okay! Jesus. That latte thing better be worth it!” She squatted, nudging the
udder with her fist repeatedly.
Joel waited a few seconds then started milking again. This time, the creamy
white liquid flowed abundantly. He stopped at two large cups.
“Alright, time to go.”
“Bye-bye, Janice. Sorry for stealing your milk. I promise to drink all of it
even if it tastes awful. Jesus, Joel, don't ever make me do that again!”
As soon as they arrived back at their little camp fire, Joel scooped out
another handful of Jamaican coffee beans from the burlap bag and ground them on
the stone slab. He asked Ellie to add a cup of water to the milk and bring
everything to a boil, but to not let it swell out of the pot.
“Milk swells?”
“If you let it boil for too long.”
“Huh. Why do you boil it then?” Legitimate question, since she was constantly
overcooking things.
“Kills off the germs.”
“It's got germs? Oh man....” There went her fantasy that this beautiful white
liquid was the one germ-free treat in this entire infected wasteland.
“Milk itself's mostly alright. It's the teats that may be dirty. Best be
careful.”
“Oh. Okay.” Phew. Milk was back to its pristine superpower self. It was going
to do the impossible for her: make Joel's beloved coffee drinkable.
“Sugar woulda been nice,” he mumbled, stirring the coffee grounds around in the
watery milk. It was turning pale brown. He breathed in the aroma.
“As a matter of fact...” said Ellie, fishing out a half-full tin of brown sugar
from her backpack.
“Now we're talkin'! Watch carefully, my young padawan.” He heated the flat rock
on the hot coals and poured a small mound of the brown sugar on top. It started
to sizzle and turn gooey. The smell was incredibly delicious.
“Whoa! What's that?”
“It's caramel. Melted sugar.”
“And what's that other word?”
“Latte?”
“Yeah, what's that mean?”
“It's Italian. It means milk.”
“So I'm gonna have.... caramel latte?”
“You got it.” Joel scooped up the hot caramel with a spoon and transferred it
into the pot. It sizzled as it sank into the liquid. “Now, you keep stirrin'
until it cools down a bit. I'm gonna go find some wood. Reckon we can camp here
today.”
“Sweet!”
To Ellie's utter surprise, her caramel latte sent her into ecstasy. It was the
most exceptional drink she'd ever had. Couldn't get enough of it. She would
soon drink the entire pot, leaving only the first sip for Joel, not to enjoy
but to do the final tasting and adjusting.
“Easy, easy!” he chuckled. “Thing's gonna keep you awake three days straight.”
“Now you tell me! Anyhoo, I don't need coffee to keep me awake, my messed up
brain can do that just fine on its own. But, I gotta say, this was by far the
most obscenely delicious thing I've ever had. No wonder you were pining after
it. Beats sex, doesn't it?” She took another gulp.
“How the hell would you know?” he laughed.
“Dude, imagination is a powerful and often accurate tool.”
“Well, coffee does have its advantages. For instance...” He picked up the
guitar and belted out a humorous tune.
That wife of mine, a suspicious kind
She says that I'm quite a flirter
But I've been a good boy all of the time
And I wouldn't do nothing to hurt her
She'll tan my hide for spending the night
With Betty Lou or Alice
But I'm sleeping alone in this wreck I own
I broke down south of Dallas
When I stumble home at the break of dawn
She better not be suspicious
'Cause I'm about at the end of my rope
And she better not act too vicious
I'm a-covered in grease from my head to my feet
Hands are cut and callused
I spent all my bucks on a broke down truck
I broke down south of Dallas
I'm a happy guy when the miles go by
There ain't too much that I'm missing
But I've got a wife with a frying pan
And when she talks I listen
I'm the king of the road
She's the queen of the house
And it may not be a palace
But it sure beats a load by the side of the road
Broke down south of Dallas
Yeah, it sure beats a load by the side of the road
Broke down south of Dallas
Ellie was giggling so hard, coffee was squirting out through her nose.
“Next time, we'll find a café and you'll get the whole experience.”
“You mean, you'll serve me and talk French?”
“Yes, ma'am, all the trimmin's. 'Cept the French. It was the Turks that brought
coffee to the West.”
“So you'll talk Turkish, then? Am I allowed to smoke a hookah?”
“Hush or I'll sing another song.”
“Methinks I'll enjoy this apocalypse more than I should.”
“Give'em hell, kid!”
The afternoon was peaceful, as it usually was for them these days. No hunters,
no infected. It was early June. Had the baddies disappeared and left the two of
them to rebuild Eden? Ellie stretched out on the grass, holding up a newspaper
above her. Joel was also stretched out, on his belly, lazily browsing an
architecture mag. They'd made another pot of coffee, mostly for him since there
was no more milk. He took his black. It made him feel human. Just another guy,
enjoying coffee at the end of a hectic work day. She was sipping honey water
from her 500 ml plastic bottle.
“Hey Joel.”
“Hm.”
“BNP Paribas freeze three of their funds, indicating that they have no way of
valuing the complex assets inside them known as collateralised debt obligations
(CDOs), or packages of sub-prime loans. It is the first major bank to
acknowledge the risk of exposure to sub-prime mortgage markets. Adam Applegarth
(right), Northern Rock's chief executive, later says that it was "the day the
world changed".”
“That don't sound good.”
“Have you any idea what I just said?” she looked over at him. Ellie finally
felt like she'd shared something of Joel's former life, the life that made him
what he was: an amazing man. Coffee would be one of many subtexts she would
share with him. She prayed to god that would be enough to sustain her. Knowing
her own impatience, she had serious doubts. Don't blow it, Ellie. Just don't.
“Don't got a clue. Sounds like a good way to end up homeless,” he smiled,
turning the page. He was frowning, squinting. His eyes were bothering him
again.
To Ellie, homeless had no meaning other than not being with Joel. Whenever they
entered an abandoned house, the only thing she needed was for him to go into
every room, to touch, look at or mention everything in there. Then she felt at
home and could reach out without feeling cast out into the void. He sensed
this, and did just that for her. It was an odd ritual, one he couldn't imagine
his life without.
She arched her back and gazed behind her. The sky was upside down. “Look at
that sunset.”
“One of the best,” he said, letting his eyes rest on the orange horizon in
front of him.
Ellie sat up and took a small notebook from her back pocket. She opened it and
read. “The universe is a big place, perhaps the biggest.”
“That was actually pretty good. What's that?”
“My new joke book. I write jokes in it. Ones I come across.”
“Doin' fine, kid.”
“You think the whole world's infected?
“Last TV broadcast I saw, it'd killed half the people in Asia and Latin
America.”
“How about Australia?”
“Gone.”
“So, the Earth's fucked.”
“Not in so many words."
He returned to the magazine. No matter how far or how close he held the pages,
the print was still a bit blurry, a bit out of focus. As casually as he could,
he spirited out a pair of eye glasses and put them on.
It took a few minutes for Ellie to finish the article she was reading and look
sideways at Joel.
“Wha...? Is that...? Are you wearing glasses?!” she grinned a big, big grin.
“No,” he replied gruffly, eyes twinkling.
“Yes you are! Dude, you look supercute! Wish I had a mirror. Or a camera. This
one's for the books!”
“You're seein' things, squirt,” he brushed her off playfully, pulling a
straighter than straight poker face. He actually felt self-conscious. Old as
fuck, next to her. But vanity wasn't going to win over visual acuity. Survival
above beauty.
“Pssshh! Whatever you say. You still look like one of those cuddly absent-
minded professors.”
“You mean the ones that got us acquainted with the Cordyceps?”
“Yeah, those. What does it matter, anyway? All that matters is their yumminess
scrumtiousness bodaciousness quotient. I'm a born-again aesthetic nihilist.
Besides, thanks to them, we got to find out who we really are.”
“Never a truer word spoken,” he chuckled. She made life seem so light. And his
eyesight was slightly better thanks to his makeshift prosthetic. He'd found it
on the floor of a supermarket.
On the other hand, the coffee had begun to seriously claw at his stomach.
“Sunset's really pretty...” she mumbled dreamily, looking up at the wispy
clouds, her newspaper covering her entire torso.
“Yes, it is.” By now, he was dizzy with nausea.
“You know what I was thinking? I've been meaning to tell you ever since we left
Jackson. What if we go down to Austin? You can show me around. You said you
built a lot of stuff there. I'd love to see it.”
“Sure,” he winced, pressing his palm onto his abdomen, right above the navel.
“Sun's gonna burn every livin' thing to a crisp and there won't be water
around, but why not?”
“I'm game.”
“No, Ellie, that was sarcasm. We ain't goin' to Austin.”
“You don't wanna see your old home? I wanna see it.”
“No! Now hush!” Damn coffee!
Chapter End Notes
     This is the financial article Ellie quotes.
     The tune Joel sings to Ellie is called Broke_Down_South_of_Dallas by
     Junior Brown.
     The joke Ellie quoted is by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
***** Sustenance *****
Chapter Summary
     Ellie and Joel are very hungry. Dying from starvation is on their
     minds a lot.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The moon was out, a white dime creeping across the night sky. Ellie plucked a
few clumps of dry mud from her hair and put on her Jak&Daxter goggles. She was
covered head to toe in mud crusts, as was Joel.
“Our last meal,” she said, her dirty fingers gingerly adjusting the goggles on
top of her head.
“One of many, kid,” Joel replied, rubbing dirt off of his palms. He had his
glasses on, needed to stay sharp.
“Somehow I have the feeling that the sardine cans really have gone extinct this
time.”
“Then we move up the ladder.”
“You mean cats?”
“Um.”
“Yeesh.”
“You don't gotta be friends with'em.”
“Maybe you're right. Cats don't love you. Dogs do. That's settled, then, we're
having roasted cat henceforth.”
“Punishin' cats for not lovin' you. That's the spirit.”
“Dude, I'm nice, I deserve it!”
“That you do.”
“Haven't seen any cats around, though. Have you?”
“Where there are people, there are cats.”
“Well that says a lot about the two of us.”
Joel snorted. It was mid-August. They were doing relatively well with the
water, funnily enough, but food was scarce. Joel prided himself on being one
half of the best survivor outfit out there, and food had never been a problem
before, but lately the pickings were few and far between. No telling how much
longer they could hold out. He wanted to blame it on the geography of southern
Colorado, and the fact that for some reason they were heading south when they
should be heading west, to the coast, but his gut feeling told him it was the
same all over. The Earth was changing its mind again.
“Have you ever had cat?”
“Cat, dog, coyote, rat, bat, crow, worm, snake, horse, parrot, bear, hedgehog,
wolf. You name it, I probably had it.”
“You ate a horse??? Why doesn't that surprise me... Explains why Atlas up and
left. He was on to your shenanigans!”
“So you don't think that landslide we've just been through had anythin' to do
with it.”
“Of course not. He was just biding his time to make a clean escape.”
“Smart horse.”
“Genius. Or wait. Maybe not so genius. Did you eat him? Spit it out!”
“Guess you'll never know. And I ain't spittin' out no horse.”
“Is there anything else I don't know but should definitely find out? Like, have
you ever eaten people?”
“Shush, or I'll quarter you and enjoy my old age in the land of plenty.”
“Dude, I'm not that big! If your grand plan's to pick my bones, you'll kick the
bucket in no time. Wait, I see what you've been doing, you've been fattening me
up for the slaughter!”
“Penny finally dropped, huh?”
“Not to rain on your parade, but I'm even skinnier now than before we made it
to Jackson. You've missed your window.”
Joel sighed, shoulders sagging under his alarmingly light backpack, under the
starry expanse right above sucking every ounce of life force from them. Both he
and Ellie felt weak from hunger. They trudged along, resting by day in the
shade and traveling by night. Ellie was getting very thin, skinnier that he'd
ever seen a girl. It gave him nightmares, made him sick with worry. She wasn't
complaining. Maybe she didn't even feel much different. For once, Joel was
grateful for the fascination she seemed to have for him. It kept her mind off
the mortal danger they were in. To her, their misery was nothing more than a
charming complement to her incredibly intricate world of romance and
excitement.
Wrong again, old man. I know exactly what this is.
Ellie...
It's not your fault. It's mine.
Don't say that. Never say that.
It is. I'll never forgive myself for pulling you out of Jackson.
We had to leave anyway.
We left too soon, unprepared. I was a stupid, idiotic moron. Please forgive me,
if you can. I understand if you can't. I can't.
Ellie, I thought we were past blamin' and forgivin'. We're together. There's no
need for any of that.
Yeah, well, you won't let me hold you and make love to you and give all of
myself to you, so guilt is all I have.
No, baby girl. Makin' love ain't a substitute for guilt. It ain't a substitute
for anythin'.
You never let up, do you?
Joel snapped out of his reverie. “We're gonna find somethin' soon. Don't
worry.”
Ellie replied reassuringly. “I know.” She jumped beside him and planted a noisy
smooch on his muddy cheek.
“What was that for?” smiled Joel wanly. Her touch felt like an uppercut. If he
could, he would crawl under a rock and die of guilt and shame for having
brought her to such a state.
“Don't you get any ideas, old goat. It's not like we're engaged or anything. I
just figured you need some sort of prize.”
“For what?” He felt the sting of hot tears in his eyes. The ground was rolling
toward and under him with each tired step. Everything seemed so far away,
getting farther and farther as he moved forward, until he wasn't even sure
where he was or where he was heading.
“For stuffing my backpack with those fabulous Nikes this morning. I'll start
wearing them as soon as the soles come off on this pair.”
“Hmph. You were asleep.”
“My one eye was. My other one was watching my six, in case you decided to have
Ellie chops for breakfast.”
“Baby, please don't talk like that.” Goddammit, when will I ever learn not to
give her ideas to toy with...
“Like what? You squeamish all of a sudden?”
“That's enough, Ellie!”
“Alright, okay, fine! Jeez, just making light of the situation. Anyway, if I do
end up starving to death, my dying wish is that you start with my knees, cause
I never liked them, they sort of bend inward, you know, it makes me look -”
“Ellie!!!” shouted Joel. There was real menace in his growl. It frightened
Ellie into silence. She'd never heard him use this tone with her. He was at his
breaking point, and she was mindlessly yanking at the threads. Why do I always
need to do this? Just, why???
They walked a good stretch of dirt road without uttering a word. It bothered
Ellie to no end that she didn't know how to express herself to him after all
this time together. That she always managed to push the wrong buttons when it
mattered most. She really did want to tell him that she felt incredibly lucky
just to have met him. And then there was this thing, this love that she bore in
her heart. Sometimes it was so enormous that she felt pushed out of herself. It
felt as though she didn't know how to do anything else but love him. Anything
he did for her was like an embrace from God. If she should get sick and die,
she would never hold it against him, and she so badly wanted him to know this,
to believe it in his heart. She wasn't quite sure what she meant to him, if he
really needed her in his life, or if he was just being kind to her. He liked
her, that was obvious. He was caring and affectionate in ways she'd never
dreamed of before she met him. And yet, a part of him was holding back. Not
only because he was concentrating on his role as parent and guardian, but
because the core of his being was still holding on to the past. Maybe that
would never change and she had no choice but to accept that. He was still in
love with Niamh. She knew she had no right to trespass, especially since he
never rubbed her nose in it. He kept this side of himself as far from her as
possible, never intentionally insulting her, never making her feel anything
less than the most important person in his life. And yet, her burning need to
be first in his heart tormented the hell out of her, keeping her awake at
night, forcing her normally guileless mind to hatch petty schemes, ones which
she was ashamed of and never put into practice. One thing was certain. If he
did need her, she would defy starvation, illness, torture, death, anything, to
be with him, to be by his side, for as long as he would have her. Of course,
one part of her watched all this drama with some amusement, as it always had,
but even it wanted to make sure he understood. But the way she went about it,
the words she used, it all ended up hurting him deep inside, where no other
living person could reach. Ellie was desperate.
She stopped walking. Rather, her legs refused to move. She tightened her grip
on the straps of her backpack and swallowed down a huge knot that had sprung up
in her throat. She could barely breathe.
A few steps in front, Joel realized he wasn't hearing Ellie's gait. He looked
to his right, then turned around. Ellie was looking to her left, her gaze
reaching far into the murky horizon, her bony jaw visibly clenched in the
moonlight.
He walked up to her. She looked at him. He was just as haggard as she was, huge
circles under his eyes, face drawn and skinny, lips chapped. His eyes looked
huge.
Slowly, so as not to scare him away, she lifted her arms and grabbed the
flannel of his sleeves. What she really wanted to do was to embrace him,
sweetly, comfortingly, lovingly, but she wasn't sure how to do that. Would I
squeeze too hard, would I hold him too loosely? Imagination she had in
bountiful amounts, but the execution always eluded her. Will he ever know what
he means to me?
I know.
Then will you promise to stop feeling crappy on my account?
I'm responsible for you.
And I'm responsible for you.
It ain't the same thing.
Yes it is. I'm your partner and I love you. That means I owe you my life and my
happiness. So I'm responsible for yours.
Ellie.... don't....
They looked deeply into each other's eyes. She cupped his cheeks and said in a
raspy voice.
“You're mine.”
“That I am.”
“So no more of this manure. Yeah?”
Joel nodded weakly, the corners of his mouth turning up into an unwilling
smile. She liked to wear this green flannel shirt that he had on, and she
sometimes took to using his turns of phrase, even his inflections. They sounded
strange on her, as if he was talking to himself. She was so full of pure,
clean, loving energy, he didn't have the heart to contradict her. If she
accepted him for who he was, he had to do the same for her.
“Yeah.”
He took her into his arms. As he held her, he could feel her knotty joints, her
vertebrae, her ribs. Hold her any tighter and she'd break. He lowered his head
over her shoulder to hide the tears rolling down his face. Mustering composure,
he straightened up and pointed to some eerie, palely lit structures in the
distance.
“Looks like an airport. Hangars and airplanes all over. Could be somethin'.”
“Alright.”
When they arrived at the runway, they saw crashed Cessnas rusting out on the
concrete. A couple of bloaters, long dead, were stuck to the wing of one of the
planes, the Cordyceps bloom flaunting its vitality in the open air. It was a
small, local airport, probably one of the first things that went out of service
after the outbreak. They entered the main building, the check-in area. Travel
bags were lying on the floor in disarray, ripped open and looted clean. The eye
of famine had turned into a melancholy ghost; it was still haunting the scene,
scanning again and again, boring into steel and brick, flesh and cloth, fixing
humanity's descent into putrefaction and madness with each full moon. So far,
nothing new. What managed to shock them, despite years of exposure to insanity
just like this, was the state in which they found some human remains.
There were several piles of body parts neatly erected on the oval conveyor
belt. Heads, arms, legs, torsos, ears. Each head sported a tiny, almost dainty
hole in the temple or the forehead. Fresher additions covered older, drier
remains. Someone had either provoked a massacre and built a shrine to it, or
had happened upon the aftermath and sought to bring order to the place. To
Ellie, the morbidity was on an entirely new level. There must have been more
than fifty people. Just outside the food court, about thirty feet to their
right, was a human body, assembled using available parts. An old lady's head,
recognizable from the earrings and hair. A child's left arm, probably a girl
judging from the beaded bracelet. A heavily tattooed, formerly beefy right arm.
A young woman's smoother, hairless left leg. An older man's sinewy, hairy right
leg. A beer enthusiast's sagging torso. The myriad cadaver was standing up,
each body part impaled on a wooden support. As the final touch, a pair of
reading glasses with thick black rims and round lenses had been placed on the
old lady's face. There was earnestness in the way all of this had been done. No
trace of sarcasm, no lick of hatred. The maggots were gone, everything was at
least a few months old.
Joel lifted his hand to his face as the first wave of convulsion hit. He only
had time to bend forward away from Ellie before the contents of his stomach
splattered onto the floor. Too mortified to utter a word, Ellie put her arm
around Joel and offered him water and the towel. He took several deep breaths
and stood up straight, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, splashing
water onto his face, wiping with his sleeve. He took a few gulps of Ellie's
water.
“We gotta find some place else,” he grunted, grabbing Ellie's hand.
“There's nothing else for miles, Joel. Lets' go to the control tower. It's dawn
soon. At least we can have shade and we can rest. Plus, the view's good.”
Joel nodded, staggering toward the wide-open glass doors of the airport, still
holding Ellie's hand in his iron grip. Ellie hurt but said nothing.
Everything was breezier and calmer in the abandoned tower. Far less dusty than
anything below, and surely far less stinky than the boiling hot concrete of
daytime. They barricaded the door of the control room with whatever pieces of
office furniture they could find and finally laid down their blanket in the
middle of the octagonal floor. Checking once more for sounds and sights, they
sank onto the blanket, exhausted.
They didn't speak of what they saw. Joel was so tense he felt the back of his
head burn. His stomach was a raw sore. He took out their last handful of grape-
flavored lollipops and tossed them between himself and Ellie, while she peeled
the tin sheet off of their last can of smoked herring. Her stomach was
squealing and squirming audibly, begging for impossible things like three
roasted squirrels with toasted chestnuts on the side and a 1x2x5 inch honeycomb
dripping heavy with acacia honey, like she had at Bill's.
“How is it?” asked Joel hesitantly. He'd seen the tin, it was pretty swollen.
Ellie brought the can to her nose. She looked at him straight in the eye,
tilting her head, stifling a sinister cackle.
“Let's just say it's a nasty way to go.”
“Hmph. Back to huntin'.”
“Hunting what? It's like all wildlife's been evacuated by an alien NGO. I wish
they'd get their priorities straight. Is this what happens every August around
these parts?”
“With all the forest fires, hurricanes and landslides, animals're hidin',
findin' higher ground, getting' out of the way. But no, I'd say this is new.”
“You think we should head for the coast? At least there'll be fish. Cause I
like fish.”
“Since when?”
“Since now.”
“Hm. Climate's milder, too. But I reckon there's people there.”
“And we wanna avoid people.”
“It sure's a lot easier without'em.”
“Dude, you and me, we're born leaders. We're popular! People are just waiting
for us to come and rescue them. Tell them what to do. We'll be fine with
people.”
“Hm. Maybe.”
“Say, is Austin a coastal city? It is, isn't it? Must be. You look like a
pirate. Sound like one, too.”
“Pirate, huh? Yesterday I was a cattle rancher. The day before I was a cab
driver.”
“Tomato, potato. There's gotta be a name for your Texas drawl.”
“Well, neither pirate, nor cattle rancher, nor cab driver's it. Anyways,
without transportation, Austin's 'bout as far from the coast as the moon. Hey,
what is it with you and Austin?”
“What, just because it's your town doesn't mean I can't set up shop there.”
“Oh yeah? Whatcha sellin'?”
“Selling? I have no intention of selling anything. My business involves the
circulation of movable assets. I steal from the riches and give to my bitches.”
Joel burst out in a hearty belly laugh. It was the first time in years he'd
heard this phrase. He felt himself relaxing a bit, putting some distance
between his mind and what he'd witnessed in the airport building.
“You wanna see the sunrise with me?” threw Ellie nonchalantly. There was an odd
seriousness to her voice. She was blushing beneath her freckles and the crusty
mud. Her open heart was begging to be shot down by Joel's customary
bashfulness, but she didn't care. She wanted to get this off her chest. She
wanted it stated, just for the record. It might be the last important thing
she'd ever do.
Joel understood. It was that story that she'd made up while riding Atlas. The
butterfly named Connor and the girl on the moon. They'd gotten married with the
rising sun as their witness.
“You askin' for my hand?” he smiled coyly.
“Dude, what would I want with your hand? Keep it, jeez.” Her flushed cheeks
belied her bravado.
“Alright, but you missed your chance. I'da said yes.”
“In your dreams, buddy boy!”
There she was, meticulously cutting ye olde tree branch from under her own
butt. Poor Joel didn't need to lift a finger, she had it all covered. She was
ready for anything, most of all her own folly. Or so she thought.
Joel took off the wrapper from a lollipop and put the purple candy in his
mouth, still smiling at her, nailing her to her side of the blanket with his
green, sharp gaze. His eyes glowed with love for her. He sat quietly, knees
raised, heels digging into the blanket, elbows resting on the knees, hands
clasped in front. His pose greatly emphasized the broadness of his shoulders.
The deep furrows fanning from the corners of his eyes toward his temples drove
her mad with desire for him, for his warm, gentle arms, his rock-steady thighs.
It suddenly struck her as infinitely hilarious, the fact that her emaciated
body, which was starting to resemble a dried cuttlefish, could still react with
such fearsome erotic need. It almost knocked her over. He knew exactly what he
was doing. And he was doing it for her, putting on a show so unlike himself to
take her mind off the feral hole in her stomach.
“You'd do anything, wouldn't you?” Her voice was barely audible.
“Me?” he protested lightly, still smiling at her, sucking his lollipop,
teasing.
“Yeah, you. Stop...” Ellie tried to smile back, but her mouth scrunched up into
a helpless tremor. Face red, she looked down.
Goddammit, I overdid it... The hell's wrong with me? I'm danglin' a carrot in
front of her in a room full of carrots she can't reach. What sort of demented
parent would do that to a child?
Hey, it's all fair. You're not my parent and I'm not your child.
Don't start, Ellie. Just let it be.
You started it.
I know and I'm sorry. It was a bad call.
A few more of these and I might start to like having you around.
Do yourself a favor, don't go there.
Too late.
Joel gave a heavy sigh. “Ellie, c'mere.” He lay down supine. Gently pulling her
down on top of him, he faced her from head to toe. He wrapped his arms around
her and kissed the top off her head. “Get some sleep.” He started humming.
“You're singing me to sleep? Are you serious???” she laughed.
He closed his eyes, kept humming.
“Alright, be like that. But I'm gonna watch the sun rise with or without you.”
He kept his eyes closed, kept humming.
“Fine. Whatever.” Her heart was pounding from excitement, but she was more than
a bit uncomfortable. They'd never been this close, even though they'd hugged at
least a dozen times. It wasn't something she was prepared for. She felt every
part of him pressing into her. The only thing her starved mind could flash in
front of her inner eye was her body underneath his, her legs spread and wound
around his waist, her lips pressed onto his, her breasts rubbing against his
hairy chest. Enormous tension was building in her pelvis.
“You know, if you raise a puppy and you hold it against your chest a lot when
it's little, it can tell when you're about to have a heart attack.” This was
panic talking. Plan Z. If this didn't work, she'd have no choice but to
actually spread her legs and rape his mouth with hers.
Joel kept humming, eyes closed.
“Is that what you're doing? Training me? Cause I won't be there to help you.
I'll be out saving the world with my immunity. Don't think I've forgotten about
that. I'm sticking around for now cause it's convenient. I'm using you, dude.
Heads up.”
He made a grand show of not paying attention.
"You'd better take off those glasses, I writhe a lot in my sleep."
Nothing. Gently, she removed his glasses, folded them and put them above his
head. Realizing she was basically talking to the moon at this point, she tried
to settle down, resting her head on his chest, turning on to the other side,
raising her head to check if he was watching her. He wasn't. Her lips were
badly swollen, she needed a deep, smoldering kiss like she needed air.
Discreetly, she rubbed her mouth against his flannel shirt and buried the whole
thing.
She could hear his breathing deep in his chest. His steady, sonorous heart beat
echoing in her ear. It was beating for her. The strong vibration of his humming
gradually unraveled her desperate desire for his body, calming it into
something much more peaceful, comforting, cool. For the first time in her life,
she thought she understood how toddlers must feel when they're cradled by their
parents. Drowsily, she took off her Jak goggles and flung them onto the
blanket. Musing that she would probably never have enough of this new feeling,
she dozed off.
They both missed sunrise. It was around noon when they woke up next to one
another, Ellie's head on Joel's arm. They decided to go down and do a final
sweep of the facility. The plan was to find everything they could use, then
come up again and wait for sunset, then head out. The low blood sugar was
making both of them shake and see yellow dots. The only two things they found
were a half roll of duct tape and a broken nail file.
“Can we eat these?” asked Ellie.
“Some day I reckon we'll have to,” replied Joel.
“So, when do you think things are gonna start going badly for us?” She put on
her Jak goggles with great care.
“That your anti-apocalypse positronic stealth shield?”
“Duh, it's a pair of toy goggles. Can't you tell?” Ellie laughed.
“You still playin' with toys?” Joel poked.
“It's something we who hail from Nerdistan -”
A deafening boom resounded across the open space, followed an instant later by
a high-pitched swoosh, a bloody graze on Ellie's thigh, and a puff of dust
rising from the concrete a few feet away.
“Sniper!” shouted Joel. “Ellie, zigzag! Hangar!”
Chapter End Notes
     "I steal from the riches and give to my bitches" is a meme whose
     origin I don't know. If you know, please tell us in the Comments! :)
***** Down *****
Chapter Summary
     Ellie faints from hunger in the middle of nowhere.
“Keep low!” hissed Joel, desperately stuffing the mag of his misfiring 9-mm
with bullets. Ellie had used up all the ammo for her pistol and for the hunting
rifle, while Joel was covering their move from one end of the air field to the
other firing the El Diablo in the direction of the last shot heard. She was now
holding Joel's revolver up along the side of her face, ready to aim. Her jeans
had huge holes where she needed coverage most – her badly scraped knees
sizzling away on the piping hot concrete at the outer corner of the hangar.
“Any lower and you'll have to dig a hole to find me,” she hissed back. “I don't
even know what the hell I'm firing at. He keeps moving around.”
“Two guys.”
“Yeah no shit.”
“They're circling. I think one of 'em's after us, and the other's after him.”
“My enemy's enemy is my friend, right?”
“Could be more complicated. Stay sharp.”
“Razor. Me and my two bullets.”
Ellie's already wildly thumping heart seemed to finally break loose from
underneath her ribs as another sniper round hit the wavy length of aluminum an
inch over her head.
“THE FUCK, MAN!!!!” she screamed at whoever had almost destroyed her Jak
goggles.
“GO, GO, GO!” barked Joel, pumping the 9-mm rapidly as Ellie dove for cover
behind some wooden crates under a shed nearby. A regular dogfight had begun
between the two snipers. The one that wasn't shooting at them had a suppressor
on his rifle. Not that it mattered much. You could hear both rifles loud and
clear. The silenced one just sounded a lot cooler to Ellie. Maybe because the
guy seemed to be on her side, for now. She realized she wasn't thinking
straight.
“Alright, that's it, I'm going after this guy,” she spat, the springs in her
legs about to pop wide.
“NO! You stay put!” growled Joel. “What's the matter with you?!”
“He's toying with us, Joel. It's us or him. I'm not gonna turn into Frankencrow
for this fuckface!”
“I said no! We'll hold out until the other guy gets'im.”
“And then what? And what if he doesn't?”
“Ellie, you'll do what I tell you!” Joel had those daggers in his green eyes
again. Except, in Joel's case, they were more like cleavers.
Well, if this is the end, I kinda don't want Joel pissed off at me. I can't
believe this...
That's right, girl, you'd better obey.
See, that's the trouble with you. I always obey but you tell me to obey anyway
and it spoils the mood.
Ain't that great. You're tellin' me there's a right mood to get sniped.
Life is a continuum. Of course there's a right mood. Oh, don't tell me you're
one of those guys who wear no underwear just cause nobody's checking. Cause
that's sleazy hot. But you don't ever go there, do you? You're Joel all the
way. Life's continuity.
I swear, girl, if we do get outta this in one piece, I'll...
You'll do what? Whatever it is, I hope it's tied in a powder blue ribbon.
Jesus. Just concentrate on sneakin' away.
To where??? There's nothing out there! No trees, no buildings, nothing! Which
brings to mind a minor detail.
“Uh, oh wise and venerable viejo, I don't know if you've noticed, but we should
be seeing both these guys. Why aren't we seeing them?”
“I don't know, baby.” Joel fell silent, looked down, forehead deeply furrowed.
He was taking in the sounds and nothing else. Ellie did the same, trying to
ignore the painful pounding in her chest, her rapid shallow breathing scorching
her already dry windpipe, the high-pitched ringing in her ears, the yellow
stars dancing inside her retina. She was feeling faint from hunger. Faint as in
very very weak, about to lose consciousness, and silly in love with Joel.
You hungry?
Why, you offerin'?
I might. Given the right inducement.
Watcha want?
A wee kiss.
You sure? Mighty uneven bargain.
I get the better end of the deal, trust me.
I'm a good kisser, but I ain't that good.
Shouldn't I be the judge of that?
Shit, now you're givin' me stage fright.
Never took you for a guy with performance anxiety issues.
Nope. Changed my mind. Ain't doin' it.
You're breaking my heart.
Ellie wasn't listening to the snipers anymore. She looked at Joel, his face,
his once thick hands now sinewy and clutching the black pistol. He was
defending her, to his dying breath, like a faithful dog that knows nothing
else. Life's continuity.
“Joel.”
He looked up.
“Thank you.” Ellie lowered herself and kissed his hand. Even if she'd had the
strength for other things, this was pretty much all she wanted to do.
“Ellie, it ain't over.” Joel looked down again, blocking everything except the
sounds.
“I think it is. I'm sick.”
“You're just a little hungry and tired's all. We'll get you outta here and into
a cozy bed in no time. Just hang in there for me, baby.”
“Nellie. You've got to be the most charming liar in the quadrant.” She smiled
faintly. La-la land was beautiful.
Ellie's searing words rampaged through Joel's heart, wounding everything in
their erratic path. He was a liar, a murderer, a thief and a cheat, and he'd
let this innocent girl hang on to him, he'd dragged her out here and let her go
through things nobody, not even his worst enemy, should have to go through. He
didn't have the physical strength to weep, so he remained still, eyes closed,
head down, listening.
“Ellie, just please hold on.”
“Why?” She was giving up. It scared him witless.
“Why? Because... because you can't leave your husband behind. It ain't right.”
“Husband? I don't have a husband, silly. Oh, you meant you...” She was still
smiling at something that had nothing to do with what was happening.
“Yes, so pull yourself together, woman.”
“To honor and obey?”
“To honor and obey.”
“That's chauvinist crap and you know it. Liar again.” Her sharp retort was in
stark contrast to her amused look.
“Please, Ellie, what do I gotta do?” Joel couldn't breathe from fright, avoided
looking at her.
“Nothing.”
She simply watched him. There was a glint of devastating humor in her clear
blue eyes.
Who woulda thought? A grumpy old goat and a foul-mouthed smartass teenager.
Hell of a love story. Everything's wrong with it. Especially the part where he
won't touch her. Even after she begs him to. Great. Of all the male specimen on
this great Earth, I had to get the only one with morals. Fucking awesome. I
love you, Joel. There's nothing more I can say.
He swallowed hard. Why in the name of Holy Mary can't I love this girl the way
she deserves? Does she remind me of Sarah? Not in a long time. Then what?
Niamh? She wouldn't mind. She'd be the first one to say, “Go on, make her
happy, and be happy yourself for a change.” Then why? God knows the days and
nights I spend needin' a woman. But Ellie...
“Oh, hi, Snake, thanks for the help, man!” said Ellie, grinning from ear to
ear. She was giving the thumbs up to someone over Joel's shoulder. He turned
around quickly. Nobody was there.
“Who you talkin' to, Ellie?”
When he turned to look at Ellie again, she was lying on the concrete,
completely limp.
“Oh, God!” Joel yanked Ellie's Jak goggles off and dragged her upper body onto
his kneeling lap, slapping her face a few times. “C'mon, kiddo, this ain't no
time for sleepin'!” He hit her again. Nothing. He put her down and shook her
roughly by the shoulders, until her neck started to look like a precarious
thread joining her head to her torso. Suddenly, it felt as if his mind was
fleeing to some misty purgatory, not unlike an eternal spring morning, where
the only thing required of him for all eternity was to tread the fine line
between insanity and complete lack of affect.
He needed her alive. Why or how, he didn't know. And even when he'd had the
time to ponder these things, he'd come up with no good answer. It wasn't even
about his own survival anymore. Just before the two of them entered Jackson,
he'd confessed to her she was his reason for living. Pretty big burden to bear
for a 15-year-old. That was true then, but not anymore. He no longer cared
about staying alive. He just wanted her to go on living, no matter what. Was it
a need to get back at this hunter-infested cesspool? A need to take revenge by
implanting the virus of good inside an evil body? The thought had crossed his
mind more than once. It made him feel like a monster. There was something else,
though, a force more devastating that any need for retribution, that drove him
to put this girl's safety above everything else. It wasn't love, either. If
love was all he had, he'd have ended both himself and her a long time ago. Was
it the hope that some day she might actually become the mother of an entirely
new human civilization? His mind had never run along such abstract lines, and
it wasn't about to start now. Then what was it? He desperately needed to know,
to be clear about where he was, where he was going, how he was going to get
there. The pacing had to be perfect, otherwise the whole thing would be ruined
and something far greater than his or her life would go to waste.
Don't drop the ball again, you no-good cunt. You don't deserve to live, and you
sure as hell don't deserve her love.
Hands shaking, he unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it under Ellie's tongue.
“C'mon, baby girl, c'mon...” While waiting for her to come back from her swoon,
he quickly ran a few lengths of gauze over the gash in her thigh. Shots were
still being fired around them in the distance, but he'd ceased to care. Her
breathing was shallow, she was perspiring, her pulse was fluttery and faint.
Low blood sugar. If he didn't do something quickly, she'd die.
The one thing Joel didn't want to do was to pray to God. He'd done that so many
times, for less important things, swearing he wouldn't kill again, steal again,
hurt again, trick again, and one way or another every one of his prayers was
answered but he remained the same. He'd gotten away with more misdeeds than
most evil people can dish out in three lifetimes. He'd truly broken faith with
God, in whom he didn't really believe in the first place. It was a joke to ask
for help now. This puzzle he'd have to solve on his own. Ellie had summed it
up. He was hers now. Not God's, hers. Too bad he'd gotten a beaut.
The lollipop inside her mouth wasn't doing anything. Short of a glucose IV,
there was nothing he could do for her. He thought about sucking the candy
himself and giving her the sweet spit to swallow. It grossed him out. He pulled
out her lollipop and did what he never thought he'd subject her to in a million
years. It didn't look like any of it was going down to her stomach. It was
simply clogging up her windpipe. He turned her over, allowing the spit to
dribble back out. He checked her pulse. Slow and weak. She was white as a
sheet, clammy to the touch. Not long to go.
The gunfight between the snipers had stopped. For a good few minutes there was
silence. Nobody seemed to be after them anymore. Hmph. Downed each other.
He started stealing more and more glances at his pistol. Maybe he should take
care of them both. At least, she'd lost consciousness in a happy place. Whoever
that Snake was, she was glad to see him. A deceased childhood friend? This
seemed like the perfect time to close up shop.
He took the gun and made sure it was properly loaded. There was no room in his
heart, his mind, his body, his soul, for the pain that was his and his alone.
Everything that he was, had been, was spread out into infinity under that pain,
like a cockroach under a slipper. Pulling the trigger would be the title of the
book chronicling his life of torment. As for Ellie, he dreaded the thought of
her waking up to wait for death.
He placed the barrel of the gun against her pale, sweaty temple.
Baby, I'm sorry.
Don't be. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
I'm sorry I couldn't be your father.
You were. Remember when you climbed that tree just because I asked you for
those toy goggles? That's what fathers do, right?
That's nothin'. You been cheated. I been cheatin' you.
It meant a lot to me.
I couldn't be your lover, either. I'm so sorry.
Yeah, that sucked. But you couldn't pretend to be another guy. Lying never
helps.
Thank you, Ellie.
So, let's do it.
You sure?
Absolutely.
The blue vein on her emaciated temple was flashing in and out of sight with
every heart beat. It looked infinitely fragile against the thick black barrel
of the gun. Joel forced himself to notice and take in every detail. It went
beyond owing her. He was her. He was about to kill himself, twice. People have
always been fascinated by mirrors. Some look frequently, others avoid their own
reflection. He was one of those who refuse to look at themselves in all moments
of their lives except the last. Sometimes you have to watch yourself do
something for it to stick.
Shaking violently, he began squeezing the trigger. I'm right behind you, baby
girl. His need for her to live on was more intense than ever.
Before he could process anything, his hand was a bloody mess, a hole running
straight through the middle of his palm, and the 9-mm was 5 feet in front of
him. He instantly recalled hearing a sniper shot. It was the silenced rifle.
Instinctively, Joel readied his bow and arrow, every muscle in his body shaking
from hunger, exhaustion and tension. The hell am I doin'? This is pointless.
Whoever had done this to his hand was probably coming, but he couldn't hear
anything except the buzzing of a sole fly. He thought he heard footsteps behind
him, but when he turned around, there was nothing. He did a 360 sweep on his
squat, arrow ready to go.
Click. A new round had been chambered.
Slowly, Joel lowered his stone-age weapon and clasped his hands above his head.
“There's no need for that. We're no trouble to you,” he said in a low growl.
No answer. Soft footsteps from behind. Blood was trickling from Joel's right
hand to the tip of his elbow and falling onto the concrete next to Ellie, pit-
pat, pit-pat.
The man walked around and stopped in front of Joel. He was wearing a simple
khaki military uniform, black boots, a khaki bandana on his forehead and a
black eye patch on his right eye. He was about 6 feet tall, early thirties.
Short, well-kept beard, bright blue eyes, mid-length light-brown hair. His
black leather gloves had the thumb, index finger and middle finger exposed.
To Joel, he seemed vaguely familiar, but the memory refused to be pinned down.
“My friend here's about to die. Just shoot us or let us be.” He stared hard
into the man's eyes.
The man ignored Joel's defiance and scrutinized Ellie from where he was
standing. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the red-stained bandage on her
thigh. After a few seconds, he motioned Joel to pick her up and follow him.
Joel kept staring at him, hands held above his head. Again, the man waved his
rifle, urging him to carry Ellie and come along. Joel couldn't read him,
couldn't tell if there was a threat in there somewhere. His normally
hypersensitive intuition was drawing blanks. The man started to walk away.
She's unconscious. Whatever he ends up doin' to her, it can't get any worse for
her.
Joel hated to admit it, but hope had reared its ugly head. The very same hope
he was telling Ellie wasn't the last to die. The poor man's God. Gingerly, he
lifted her limp body and started to walk behind the man. The guy wasn't even
looking behind, as if he didn't expect any possible treachery to have ill
effect.
Soon, the man, Joel and Ellie were riding an elevator down a 200-foot shaft.
***** A Hunch *****
Chapter Summary
     Ellie has a hunch concerning the nature of life. (Contains very bad
     language.)
When Ellie opened her eyes, it was so dark she had to manually check the state
of her eyelids. They were undoubtedly open, a bit sore, desperately trying to
squeeze vision out of her eye sockets. She was standing on two solidly spread
legs, as if the Earth hung from nothing else, hunched over, ready for anything.
Shouldn't I be able to see? Don't I have a flashlight? No flashlight. Great.
She chambered three slugs into her shorty. Great damage, lousy range. Not for
the faint of heart. She'd have to get in the enemy's face.
A rustling noise to her rear left made her spin around and retreat. She bonked
her head on what turned out to be a corroded pipe.
Super. We're in a basement. A sewer? It's damp enough. Nevermind. We've got
this.
Hearing homing in on the persistent swishing sound, she took a small, steady
step forward. Then another, then another. The sound was fading into the
distance.
Huh?
She stopped and listened.
“Joel, is that you?” she whispered. It was a meaningless utterance, like so
many in the failed afterlife of human civilization, since she knew full well he
wasn't there. It just made her feel safer to mouth his name. Like a mantra
granting immunity from all harm. The power of that cluster of sounds
reverberated throughout her chest.
“Joel.”
She chuckled, felt stupid. Notwithstanding the fact that, nine times out of
ten, right after she called out his name, it would indeed be Joel charging in,
sly grin on his face, giant haul threatening to spill out of his tattered
military backpack. That one time it wasn't Joel, it was a rabid dog that bit
her on the chin. Boy oh boy, was Joel frightened out of his wits that time. He
shot the poor mongrel in the most frenzied way imaginable – actually, he always
did that, but this was a small dog, and those things that come out of a double
barrel shotgun fired at close range... - and then hovered around Ellie for days
and nights, making sure there were no signs of rabies, kept asking her
questions, kept checking her forehead for fever, kept stopping himself from
explaining to her what rabies was and how it might start to manifest. Clearly,
he'd encountered it before. Turned out she was immune.
“Jesus, girl, you'll outlive the sun!” Joel had said, tears in his eyes,
stroking her cheek.
“Nah, methinks it was your pesky ass that drove it away,” Ellie had laughed.
Suddenly the thought of outliving everybody had brought over her a sadness she
had no words for. The thought of outliving Joel. No. Never.
That had all made sense, albeit in a desperate, heartbreaking way. Here,
though, something was wildly off. Ellie knew things were about to happen.
“Stop pacin'!” hissed Joel.
“Huh?! Wha? You're not supposed to be here!” hissed Ellie back, confused but
infinitely grateful. Joyful. Relieved.
“How the hell should I know?! I'm arguin' with that guy you keep callin' Snake
to give you a glucose IV, which he has a room-full of, instead he sticks you in
some sort of cryo pod or somethin' outta your comics, next thing I know I'm in
this goddamn hell hole with no flashlight lookin' for Doctor Daniela Star. You
OK?”
“Never better. You?”
“Fine. Would prefer a Rivers Cafe, though.”
“I know what you mean. I mean, I don't, but I trust your considered judgment in
this. And what's up with the flashlights?”
“No idea. Goddammit!” Joel was furious now.
“What?”
“I've got seven bullets.”
“We've arrived. So?”
“So, how come they ain't in my 9-mil?”
“Well, stop screwing around and put'em in!”
“Don't you think I want to, genius?”
“I don't get it.”
“Neither do I.”
“WATCH OUT!!!!”
Four runners lurched out of nowhere and ripped out their carotids.
Ellie opened her eyes. It was pitch-dark. An intense sense of deja-vu gnawed at
her, guided her steps toward what had to be the scene of unthinkable horrors
past. She walked straight across Joel's path.
Bump.
“Uh, sorry,” she whispered.
“'Ts allright,” he replied.
“Your pistol loaded?”
“No.”
“Can't you load it?”
“No.”
“What the fuck.”
“Yes.”
They circled around a bit in what felt like the intersection of two
unbelievable dank corridors, when Joel raised his pistol and shoved a mag into
it.
“There, you're set,” said Ellie.
“I don't know how I did that.” Joel was staring at his gun.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don't know how I loaded my gun.”
“You're scaring the shit outta me, Joel. Besides, you've never been one to ask
the big philosophical questions. That's even scarier.”
“Dontchya think I know that?! It's drivin' me nuts. How 'bout you? You loaded?”
“I think so.”
“Check.”
“I can't.”
Joel fell silent. Ellie could feel those hot waves of frustration and anger
fill the area. They always made her feel very uncomfortable, in danger, even.
She knew he'd never harm her, no matter what, but the knot in her gut, the
adrenalin being pumped out in anticipation of self-defense, that sickening
feeling she never got used to came over her again.
“Ellie, you listen to me good. There's somethin' goin' on here that you and I
can't get a handle on. We might get killed for real this time -”
“Joel -”
“Let me finish. If I go, remember the stash back in Boston I told you about?
The combination's 4276. I didn't tell you earlier 'cause that place is lousy
with Wranglers. At least, it used to be. Maybe they're gone now, I dunno. Point
is, you're as ready now as you'll ever be for anythin' that might happen, so
that stash might actually help you. It's got stuff even Bill can't find. Four-
two-seven-six.”
“Stop talking.”
“No, you gotta listen -”
“Stop! Two o'clock.”
Joel turned sightly to the right. Ellie didn't speak. From straight in front of
them, down a corridor, came a muffled sound, an assortment of screeches,
growls, demented drum beats, electric guitars. It resembled music in that
musical instruments were being used.
“What IS that?” Ellie couldn't make it out. It irritated her, since she
considered herself somewhat of a connoisseur, thanks to Joel's unrelenting
scavenging of records and players and batteries.
“That would be, uh, heavy metal. Or is it death metal? Thrash metal? Not sure.”
“Lord, did people actually pay to have this stuff made? To listen to this
stuff? You think people secretly wanted the Cordyceps to take over?”
“You mean subconsciously? Could be. People ain't doin' nothin' now that they
didn't do before the outbreak.”
“Huh. Well, hate to say it, but maybe we should check that out.”
“Yeah.”
“Then why aren't we moving?” Ellie looked around. Even in the dark she could
tell that there was nothing to hold them back except a bunch of heavy pipes
they could easily jump over. “Can you move your legs?”
“Nope.” Not one beat passed and Joel trotted over to the pipes, swiftly climbed
over them. Then he hopped back to Ellie's side. “There, nothin' to it.” Joel
felt ridiculous. More alarming was the fact that he felt in danger of accepting
the absurd as the absolutely normal norm. He'd always done that to some extent,
it was all part of survival, but there were limits. Some things were
unacceptable, whatever the circumstances. Principles, ground rules. What makes
you you. Or perhaps not. He never thought he'd be grateful to be able to jump
across a pile of junk. He felt his IQ drop.
“Do that again,” whispered Ellie.
“Do what?”
“Jump to the other side.”
“I can't.”
“Then why the hell did you jump back to this side?!”
“I don't know, dammit!” Joel hopped to the other side and back again. “Oh,
there ya go.”
Ellie stood rigid.
“What?”
“When you jump, do you see anything near your legs?”
“I don't look at my legs when I jump. Like what?”
“Like... a big blue X hovering in midair.”
“A what?!” By this point, everything had gotten so strange, that Joel couldn't
discount anything, including a particularly well-executed Ellie prank. True,
she'd grown past the prank stage, within the first six months of their
acquaintance in fact, but starvation was known to twist the judgment. He
couldn't rule it out. Didn't want to. It was the only thing that made any sense
to him. If he couldn't hold on to that, then he'd have to embrace insanity,
something he had fought many times over the years. The anxiety, the courage it
took to stave off the erosion of reason... It was the most difficult ordeal
he'd ever endured in his life by far, and a new installment seemed to crop up
every now and then. It never ended. He decided to adopt the zen approach to
things. It served him best at the moment.
“A blue X. It disappears when you jump and reappears when you're next to the
pipes.”
“A blue X....” sighed Joel deeply. “C'mon, let's go,” he grunted in defeat. As
far as Ellie pranks go, this wasn't her style at all. A blue X? Was that
supposed not to make sense? Or to make sense as a cipher? Joel shook his head.
“I can't. I'm stuck,” replied Ellie.
“Stuck how? There ain't nothin' 'round you.”
“My legs won't move.”
“Fine, suit yourself.” Joel Jumped over the pipes and headed toward the muffled
din. His heart was pounding in his throat, his eyes felt like they were about
to pop out of his sockets. How this went together with his zen, he couldn't
fathom. Laurel and Hardy came to mind. Zen and fear. Fear and Zen. The moment
he tried to figure out who was which, the analogy broke down and everything
turned into one giant pile of manure. Move, Ellie. Move. He prayed.
At last, he could hear Ellie stepping toward the mound of pipes to attempt the
jump. As he turned around, he caught a glimpse of what Ellie must have been
talking about. In mid-air, near her knees, a blue X.
“You saw it, too, right?” There was less I-told-you-so in Ellie's voice than
concern. And tons of curiosity.
“Yeah.”
“Hm.”
“Jus' to be clear, this ain't one of yours?”
“One of mine?”
“Practical jokes.”
“Dude, you call this a practical joke? This is fucking supernatural. If I could
do shit like this, I'd be in a hot tub sipping hot cocoa reading a hot
detective novel. No, sir. Besides, a blue X? Give me some credit!”
“Jus' makin' sure.”
“Thanks you for the confidence, though.”
“Well, I did say you can do anythin'.”
“My anything isn't that anything, I assure you.”
“ELLIE!!!””
Four runners jumped out from behind them and bit into their throats. The last
thing Ellie and Joel saw was a translucent outline of a person holding a...
controller?
Ellie opened her eyes to a dark, damp basement.
“Joel?”
“Right here.”
“I have a theory.”
“Does it involve blue X's, buttons and sticks?”
“Centrally.”
“I don't think we were supposed to even see that.”
“I have another theory.”
“The guy holding the controller is a douchebag?”
“That must be the first time you've ever used that word. I have taught you
well.”
“If the shoe fits. Fucker's gonna keep gettin' us killed.”
“I have a suggestion.”
“Get'im?”
“Well put.”
“Ladies first.” Joel had regained his purpose, his steady humor. Killing for
vengeance was in his comfort zone, dead center.
They were moving through the corridor. This time, it felt like they had more
autonomous control over their limbs. It was still an effort, but a rewarding
one. Of course, everything could just be an impression, wishful thinking. At
least, they were going where they thought they wanted to go. They even managed
to dispatch those four runners unscathed. Joel, in particular, could feel his
punches reversely feeding back out into that elusive controller.
“We gotta find a window,” murmured Ellie, intently listening to everything
around her. She was listening for some variation in the clarity of the music.
Her eyes were scanning for that translucent outline. “See anything?”
“Nah. Keep lookin'.”
“There!” Ellie grabbed Joel's elbow and pointed to her left. It was as if two
semi-transparent photos were superimposed. One was the basement, the other was
a messy bedroom populated by two young guys, one in his early 20's, the other
in his early teens. As Ellie and Joel approached the bedroom, the two boys'
eyes grew round. Fear had struck. Their mouths hung open. The older one dropped
the controller.
“Waddup, boys?” shouted Ellie cheerily over the music. “I'm Ellie, this is
Joel.”
“Howdy.” Joel gestured a tip of the hat. He crossed his arms across his chest
and waited for Ellie to put on her show. She was never good at intimidating
people, so he was in for a treat.
“Let's have some quiet, shall we?" Ellie raised her shorty and shot the stereo
to smithereens.
Not bad, thought Joel.
"First of all, what's with the smell? Had beans for breakfast?” She used the
barrel of her gun to turn over an empty bag of Cheetos. “Holy Mother of God.
You boys should stop eating this junk.”
Joel barely stifled a smile. He watched the two youngsters. They were livid,
rigid.
“Open the windows, for chrissakes,” Ellie ordered. The boys didn't budge. They
simply stared at Ellie. “Move it!!!”
The younger one sprang from the bed and pulled up half a window. Then he came
back to the other boy's side and sat back down.
“You brothers?” asked Ellie. They did look alike.
Neither of them spoke.
“Lady asked you a question,” pressed Joel. He used to love these games. Used to
make a pretty damn good team with Tess. Never thought he'd have to do this with
Ellie, or that he'd enjoy himself so much.
“Yeah, we're brothers. I'm Lavon. He's my little brother Patrice.”
“Lavon and Patrice. Nice to meet you.”
“Whatever.”
“You guys play a lot of video games?”
“Yeah.”
“Like which ones?”
Lavon turned his head toward the side of the bedroom, where stood a massive
shelf filled with Playstation, Nintendo and Xbox titles. Ellie went over to
check out the collection.
“Savage Starlight. Good taste. You any good?”
“Uh, pretty good, I got 35900 points in the Parvus Trials.” This was Patrice,
he seemed to thaw out a bit.
“Impressive. Best I ever got was 24670, and that was with the Torrid Armor
buff. Joel, how many points did you get?”
“Never touched it.”
“That bad, eh?”
Joel nodded, smiling.
Ellie went over to the desk. There were notebooks, papers, manuals, a
calculator. “Homework?”
“Yeah,” said Lavon, fidgeting.
“Math? Sucks. I feel you, bruh.”
“Uh, I like math.”
“Oh, you like math? A nerd, then. How many times have you gotten us killed?
Sixty? Seventy times?” Ellie pulled out a drawer, saw a stash of reefers, a bag
of cocaine, and a gun.
“What the fuck! What is this, man?!! Get your ass outta here! You, too, old
fart!” shouted Lavon, jumping to his feet. He dashed to the desk and slammed
the drawer shut.
“Or you'll do what? Kill us? You've done that already.”
“It's a game, man. What the fuck do you want!”
“A game, huh? What, you like getting characters killed? Does it amuse you?”
“No, man, I'm just gathering footage!”
“Footage?”
“Yeah, man, I'm uploading it to YouTube!”
“What's Utube?”
“You don't know YouTube? You fucking peasant?”
“Must be, enlighten me.”
“YouTube is where it's at, man. You upload stuff, people see it, you get rich!”
“So, it's like a movie, people pay to see it?”
“No, stupid bitch, it's not a movie, it's gameplay footage. I edit it, and
upload it.”
“I see. So you record your gameplay.”
“Look, I don't need to talk to you! Pastey cunt! You're a fucking video game
character! Piss off!”
“Yes you do, you really really do.” Ellie raised her shorty to Lavon's face.
Patrice was scared. He yanked on his big brother's sleeve, pleaded him to take
it easy. “Patrice, you agree with your brother? About recording the gruesome
deaths of video game characters so he can make a profit?”
“Uh, no, ma'am.”
“I didn't hear you.”
“NO, MA-AM!”
Patrice was really frightened. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ellie knew
she shouldn't be wielding a weapon in front of a kid, probably shouldn't swear
either, and the sincere, admiring way Patrice looked at her unnerved her, but
she steeled herself and carried on.
“Good. There's at least one decent person in the family. My hunch is, there are
more. Most of them are probably deeply hurt by the way you're living your life,
Lavon. You like being the black sheep, Lavon? No pun intended.”
“What did you call me, cunt?”
“A black sheep. Oh get over yourself, Lavon. White people can be black sheep,
Asians can be black sheep, Martians can be black sheep. It's an expression.
What if I called you a pink swan, would it soothe your frayed nerves?”
“Racist bitch!” Lavon lunged at the drawer to grab his gun. Ellie intercepted,
rested the barrel of her shorty on Lavon's sweaty temple.
“Look. It's pure coincidence you boys turned out to be African American. Coulda
been anyone from anywhere. Fact is, a long time ago gaming used to be only for
young white guys. Isn't that right, Joel?”
“That's right. It was a dark time.” Joel raised his hand to cover his smile.
“And now look how far things have come. You don't even know how good you have
it compared to most folks in Africa, India, Asia, South America. Or even here.
See, if you've been paying attention to the game, where I come from, white meat
tastes just as good as black meat, or yellow meat, or red meat. There's no
difference. We know, don't we, Joel?”
“Sure do.” Joel smacked his lips in agreement.
“So, my advice to you is, stop making money off of death. That Utube thing,
that's sooooo tasteless. Stop frying your brain. It makes you unpleasant to be
around. Patrice here obviously cares for you, and you're setting a shitty
example.”
“Or you'll do what? Get it through your big fat ugly-ass skull, you people are
just video game characters! Racist cocksuckers!” Lavon was panting under
Ellie's icy shorty.
“Is that all you can do? Tsk, tsk! Besides, we've managed to come here once,
you know, we can come back again.”
“I won't play the game anymore. Bitch, you just don't get it, do you, you're a
string of 1s and 0s. All I have to do is pull the plug!”
“No YOU don't get it. We're HERE. We'll always be HERE. Patrice knows.” Ellie
nodded toward the little brother. Patrice gave a faint nod back.
“You're an idiot pussy, I fucked your big fat mother!”
“You sure it was fucking you did to her? You sure it wasn't more like
spelunking? I mean, she used to be pretty big. Not that big, but you're pretty
puny, so...” Ellie cocked the shorty. “If you ever do drugs or use that gun
again, in any way except self-defense or defense of another, I'll come back and
shoot you. Is that clear?”
Lavon pursed his lips and clenched his jaw. “You can't kill anyone with that
thing! It doesn't work out here, pinhead!”
“Worked on your precious stereo, Lavon. I killed your stereo. It was a mercy
killing. You should have your gear play Miles Davis or Thelonious Monk, not
that white crap. Now, let's find out if it works on your head. Either one is
fine.”
“No! Please!” shouted Patrice.
“Hm. Your little brother seems to think you don't deserve to die. To tell you
the truth, guys like you are pretty much a lost cause. I've known many like
you, I've killed many like you. You'll be pleased to know that out of those
many, most were actually whiter than white. IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER. What I
should really do is wipe your ass out. But I won't. I'll let you live, because
the world deserves to have you in it, alive and well, wreaking havoc,
destroying lives, spreading your moron seed. You're perfect for each other.
It's Patrice here that's too good for it. If there ever will be an outbreak in
your world, you won't be the black sheep anymore, I guarantee. Uh, just to
clarify, the Cordyceps doesn't make you white. It makes you ugly. If it did,
Michael Jackson would have taken it. Or maybe he did.”
Joel was listening intently. He'd never witnessed this side of Ellie before.
Mean. Cruel. Fed up.
“Time to go,” he said quietly.
Ellie was trembling. Those scorching words had poured out of her, out of
somewhere very deep and impossible to reach by any act of will. She couldn't
stave off the flood of hatred for Lavon. She wanted to squish him like a
cockroach. Before her eyes, Joel had died so many times, ripped apart,
mutilated beyond recognition, in impossible pain. She had witnessed in her
short life so much chaos, destruction, violence, cruelty, selfishness, bigotry,
stupidity, greed, callousness. Video game characters. Is that all we are? Is
that all? Hot tears poured out of her eyes in a never-ending stream. She waited
patiently to die of grief.
Ellie woke up. Above her hovered Joel, Snake, and three very pretty,
exquisitely made-up middle-aged men.
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