Chapter Text
Time went by and weeks had passed without any further incident.
They continued their slow but steady advance across the country along their planned route. They had enough supplies and had been lucky in the places they passed through, managing to snatch warmer clothing from abandoned houses and salvageable cans from looted supermarkets.
There were days they traveled in complete silence. The accumulated fatigue and the weight of the situation loomed over their heads with every step, knowing that it was getting colder and they were literally in a race against time.
Other days, Enid wouldn't stop talking. Ever since she'd seen a poster for a movie she liked in the remains of a destroyed cinema, she'd told Wednesday the plot of all her favorite movies and TV shows, and her complete theories about how each one would end, even though she knew that was never going to happen.
Wednesday spoke very little. Enid had managed to coax a few monologues out of her about novels she'd read, but as soon as she asked her anything about herself, she shut down again. Whenever Enid mentioned the novel Wednesday had said she wanted to write, or asked about her past, the shorter girl's face would change into a mask of indifference, her eyes vacant and her lips pressed tightly together.
Enid could see all the pain and sadness behind her eyes, but she didn't dare to ask.
Walking along an endless highway that crossed the state, they saw a turnoff leading to a large house up the hill. The sign was too battered by time and the elements, but it appeared to belong to a country club. They figured it was still early in the day and it wouldn't hurt to look around and see if they could take anything useful from the place, since it was still quite a long distance to the next town.
The building had two floors and a large facade with columns. They entered through one of the many broken windows so as not to waste time forcing the door. Inside, the carpeting was torn up, the armchairs were corroded, and part of the ceiling had collapsed, revealing the upper floor.
Enid and Wednesday entered cautiously, guns drawn. They could hear the air rushing in through the windows and the creaking of damp wood, but nothing else. It didn't seem like anyone had been there since the outbreak.
They check around to see that there wasn't any danger around the main floor. The stairs had fallen down at some point, so there was no access to the other floor regardless.
"That looks like the canteen", Enid said quietly, pointing to the left. "Let's see if they have anything in the kitchen".
A multitude of chairs and tables stood frozen in time, still covered with tablecloths. Some had food scraps on their plates and discarded napkins, as if people had left in haste. And in the center of the room, a grand piano presided over the space.
Wednesday stared at the keys. She missed playing the piano. She missed her cello, moving her fingers along its strings until she couldn't feel her fingertips, losing herself in the melodies of raising and lowering her bow, in the power and delicacy of it all.
She missed music, but she had chosen to ignore it.
Because thinking about music reminded her of her mother humming while tending the garden, her father singing at the top of his lungs while fencing around the living room, her brother blasting music from the speakers while working on a new experiment.
Music meant remembering, and remembering meant pain, so Wednesday had buried music and lived in complete silence for the past few years.
However, now… she wondered, what would happen if she touched those keys? Would they still sound after so many years of silence? Would she remember all the pieces and sonnets she had studied throughout her life? Could she try to play by ear the songs that Enid kept repeating as they tirelessly traveled across the country?
But no. They had to be careful. Any noise above a reasonable level could alert the infected. Or, almost more dangerous, other humans.
At least they had some luck in their search for food. Wednesday grabbed a handful of black tea bags, because although she preferred coffee, it wasn't very convenient for traveling. She also got sugar packets for Enid, knowing she wouldn't drink it without them. Enid on the other hand, found pasta, bouillon cubes and cans of condensed milk that, thankfully, weren't expired.
"I'll get some cutlery," she said.
"Why would you get that?" Wednesday frowned. "It's unnecessary weight".
"Because I'm tired of stabbing everything with a knife and drinking straight from soup cans!" she replied.
She started opening and closing drawers, which creaked from having been shut for years. If Wednesday's ear hadn't been attuned to danger, she wouldn't have heard the faint creak amidst all the noise.
"Enid, stop," she warned.
"I told you that-"
"No, stop", Wednesday repeated, her voice firmer.
Enid then realized it wasn't a silly argument about whether or not to use cutlery. They strained their ears and heard another noise. And another.
They glanced at each other once and nodded, knowing that the best thing to do was get out of there. Guns in hand, stealthy but quick, they returned the way they had come in, making their way through the collapsed part of the building and to go through the broken windows they had entered.
The creaking sounds were more frequent, more numerous, and closer. Just as they reached the windows, they saw it: infected.
They were walking and crawling on the floor above, falling through the hole in the ceiling and landing right between the windows that was their best escape route.
There weren't many of them, but too many to fight their way through. Some were in waiter uniforms, others in tennis clothes, others in swimsuits as if they'd been caught at the pool, but you could barely recognize their faces anymore.
Enid fired and brought down two who were speeding toward them.
"Run!", she yelled behind her.
Wednesday had frozen. A group of them looked like a family, with some younger than them, a teenager boy in a striped shirt.
“Wednesday, run!”
Enid took her hand and pulled her back to the cafeteria wing. One runner was gaining ground on the others, so Enid sprinted to round the bend as quickly as possible and reach the windows on the other side of the building. They weren't as broken as the one they'd entered through, but broken enough to force their way through.
She used her backpack as a shield to jump out the window and shatter the remaining glass in the frame. Wednesday followed, but the runner was too close and tried to grab her backpack. With half her body hanging out, she kicked until it let go and ran out of the building.
She ran, slightly crouched, as Enid fired into the building. After a single well-aimed shot, the growling stopped, but they kept running, getting as far away from there as possible.
When they were sure no one was following them, they stopped to catch their breath. They had reached a small shed next to some empty swimming pools. Wednesday leaned against a wall as she felt her lungs on fire. Her head throbbed and her ears were ringing.
“Fuck”, Enid gasped beside her.
Wednesday looked up and saw Enid staring down at her leg. On her thigh, just above the knee, her pants had ripped, revealing a bite mark.
Wednesday hadn't realized when she had been bitten, probably when she'd kicked away from the runner. All the adrenaline from running away had still prevented her from feeling the pain, but it all hit her at once when she heard Enid.
“Fuck, Wednesday, no, no, no, no-”
“Enid-”
When she looked up, she was already pointing a gun at her.
"Enid, don’t! I'm not going to get infected, you have to believe me. It's not the first time this has happened".
The blonde pressed her lips tightly together, clearly struggling to keep her hands steady.
"I can’t let you become one of those things. I’m sorry, I have to- Don't make this any harder", she said, her voice trembling. "Please. I’m sorry".
Wednesday raised her hands very slowly.
"Please listen to me", she begged. "Just listen to me first".
With very slow movements, Wednesday unbuttoned her jacket with trembling fingers and pulled down the collar of her T-shirt to reveal the old bite mark on her collarbone. Too healed to be recent, too bulging to be a normal wound.
Enid's eyes widened, but she didn't lower the gun.
“This one's four years old”, Wednesday said. “When my brother and I left the QZ, we were both attacked. I wasn't strong enough to put him out of his misery, and I thought I'd become one of those things too. But I didn't and… and he…”
The pain and guilt that still weighed on her after so many years rose in her throat. She felt burning tears well up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She simply let them fall.
"You have to believe me, Enid", Wednesday begged again, looking her straight in the eyes.
Enid met her gaze. After the tremor, she took a deep breath, one, two. Her hands moved slightly and she touched the gun’s safe, which clicked softly.
“I’m sorry for this, Wednesday”, she said.
Her arms remained steady, the gun pointed directly between Wednesday’s eyes.
She knew that Enid never missed a shot.
Wednesday closed her eyes, accepting her fate. At least she knew she'd helped Enid get there, and they weren't that far from the cabin, so she trusted that Enid would make it. She had to.
She knew that sooner or later her luck would run out, and at least she was glad it had been her turn. But all she really wanted was to be able to go with her to Arizona. Maybe then she would have asked her to stay, maybe in another life they could have been…
A blow like an explosion hit her temple hard before everything went black.