Chapter Text
Abby
Despite the onslaught of infected, the expected violence that came with it, Mel’s death was somehow still an unexpected nail in the snowy coffin that Wyoming had proven to be.
The blizzard had been teasing the skyline for the past two days, huge cumulonimbus expanding like a dare the closer they got to the camp. They were arrogant, carrying on the way they had - Abby had seen the vague outline of the lodge, steered them like she knew with certainty they could beat the flurry heading their way. She hadn’t known shit, and somewhere in the back of her mind she cursed Manny for backing her so vehemently, Owen for rolling over to them.
Owen himself looked like a work dog trying not to cower in the surrounding cries of the next wave. The warehouse was one strong breeze short of dilapidation. Promising. Nora and Manny had been the first and most ambiguous, swept away in what could have been over a hundred runners. Abby hadn’t even had the chance to call out for them, ducking under the flooring of an abandoned shack and kicking her way through to the main building. People followed, heavy breathing and staggered sobbing keeping them apart from the rest of the thrashing bodies. Leah, Jordan and Nick had been taken out one by one; two bitten, Jordan beaten to death trying to go back for them. Abby would mourn them later, resolved to with bitter intent.
She’d fucking brought them here. And it wasn’t the time to think about that, but on the dank floor of the warehouse she couldn’t help but lose that shred of composure as Mel lay choking on her lap, blood gushing out a rough set of teeth marks gouged into the neck and a twitching clicker running out of life not three feet away. They thought they’d been safe, sealed the doors well enough to catch their breath. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed barbed wire, frost layering her lips and nostrils. But there was a moment of quiet, where she got to look up and see Mel settle against the door, Owen crouching by her side. Abby had been moving into the centre of the room to scout the area. She’d barely gotten a full scan before Owen’s gun was going off, and Mel’s was sinking back down onto her knees.
Too fast. All too much and too fast. They’d gotten all this way.
Owen was openly crying over the both of them, seizing over with the effort of it. Frozen mucus gathered around his nose and mouth, gloved hands wiping furiously at the mess. Abby was tired to her bones, face dry and lifeless beyond the instinct to keep on gulping the cold air down.
“We were so fucking close, Owen.” Her voice was uncharacteristically shrill and sore-sounding.
The shrieks gathered like a swarm of blood-hungry locusts, some kind of other-wordly condemnation that Abby took to be for her and her alone. They’d be in soon enough. Plenty of access points - the walls would probably teeter with enough of them piled against it.
Owen began to say something, flinching at a particularly loud cry, now under the tallest open window. Hands began scrambling through the thin wood. The panic picked up again with Mel’s final breath against Abby’s stooped cheek. It was time to move.
Abby lay Mel’s head gently on the hard floor, stopping, if briefly, to look over her soft features before stroking her fingers down the side of her face, closing her eyes and standing to attention. Owen continued to look down.
Abby wanted to say something encouraging, or at least solid. Just as she opened her mouth to say - she didn’t quite know - bodies began piling through the far right gap in the wood. They tumbled as though piled onto a conveyor belt, jaws gnashing and nails slashing the air in an attempt to find fresh flesh. She didn’t want to be one of them, dead or undead. The thought of joining the horde was unthinkable, the idea of being found in the thawing snow by the town’s residents two months later nearly as bad.
“Get on the ski lift.” In the centre, now being rushed at by throngs of infected, was a large cart with wires headed to the top and bottom of the mountain. Owen’s feet didn’t budge. “Fucking get on!” They finally began moving.
Abby was the first to grab a foothold on the cart, forcing her stiff limbs to haul herself upward, only half confident the last member of her team was following close behind. She looked to her left and right, making a point to avoid looking down. In her periphery she saw Mel’s body disappear between clumps of fungus, clickers joining the already too thick crowd. The settlement was big - they’d seen the outline of the city twinkle in the distance over the last two nights, at least. And it was downhill. Whether it was actually in this direction, she couldn’t fucking tell, and wouldn’t be able to linger and figure it out without risk of getting dragged down within the next five seconds. So downhill they went.
The cables were thick and sturdy, rough even through her thick gloves. Slippery with ice. Without further hesitation Abby hooked her elbow around the wire, locking the grip with her other hand and letting go of the shaking cart underneath. She shot off faster than she could have expected, gasping as hundreds of dissolving hands reached up and grabbed for her ankles. The wind felt like the aftermath of a slap, inching into the skin of her face as she flew closer and closer in dismay to what looked like the end of the line. She was going too fast - the infected had been left behind, but the pole coming towards her steadily and the sheer height she had to drop ended in some broken bones at the very least in both cases.
She took the route of least risk.
“Let go!” She yelled, hoping Owen - was Owen still there, even? - could hear her. She unlocked her grip and felt her stomach shoot into her throat as she was unbound for countless seconds. She felt as though each individual bone in her right foot and ankle broke like glass under her weight on impact, soft foot of snow and all. Her scream was lost to the blizzard gaining momentum still, along with any indication of Owen landing near her.
She crumpled into herself completely, view of total white-out greeting her with antipathetic contempt.
And, well. That was that, she supposed. She’d been told by enough people it was a suicide mission. Had been half-willing to admit they’d had a chance of being right.
The snow tickled the bottom of her ears and melted against the heat of her neck. Her ankle was thankfully numb, and they’d travelled far enough for the only sounds to be that of the howling blizzard. Naked branches peaked into the right side of her view - she’d landed on flat ground, avoiding the steep slope that led up to the lodge. Fluffy flakes landed on her with dizzying speed. She’d be covered up in no time, at this rate.
Groaning, she tilted onto her left side and peered around where she’d ended up. White-out as far as she could see - the trees to the right were thin and long-dead, the left a wide expanse of opaque bitty air.
Then - galloping. And - more yelling? Human, this time.
“Ellie!”
“I’m here!”
Horses hooves beating on compacting ground; they were getting closer. Then -
“Help!” Maybe she’d had less faith in Owen than he’d deserved. “Help!” He wasn’t far off at all - somewhere behind? But the wind was picking up still, and it could’ve been chucking the noise anywhere.
“That way,” A girl’s voice sounded around the same direction. Abby craned her neck backward, feebly echoing the cries for help herself. God, she hurt all over.
“Over here!” Owen’s voice boomed in the empty space, and Abby thought she could make out a vague man-shaped silhouette in the fog. Wishful thinking, maybe. Even so, she found her voice.
“Owen!” It was strangled, unrecognisable. “Owen!” The silhouette began moving, waving his arms back and forth and stumbling his way closer.
“Abby?” It was far too fucking loud in this place. She didn’t know whether she had it in her to yell again.
She didn’t need to, in the end. Within a few moments of each other Owen stumbled into her view with the accompaniment of three horses following close on his heels. A man and two women. Owen fell at her side, grabbing her shoulders and looking her over.
“Horde’s getting closer.” One of the women said, peering over her shoulder. She looked back, sizing the two of them up. Her face didn’t show much of an opinion. “You bit?”
Owen shook his head desperately. “No, we outran them. There were hundreds, though. They’ll be on us soon.”
The man on the horse pitched up. “We’ll get ‘em back to camp.”
The woman that had spoken was already off in a light canter, flicking back and forth between the two on the ground and the impending stampede.
“Get them on and let’s go, then. It’s been a long fucking day.”
The other two dismounted and made their way over. Abby’s underarms were grabbed firmly as they hoisted her up, taking them one at a time and allocating them each the back of a horse. At her own lack of protest at the touch, Abby began to question how present she actually was. How little she could feel her own limbs being arranged onto the animal, her arms wrapped around the man’s waist as he got back on.
“Do I need to wrap your hands or are you gonna be able to hang on?” Abby felt his shoulder underneath her cheek, fighting back any discomfort at the necessary closeness.
“I can hold on. Just go before we’re fuckin’ mangled, please.” He snorted with an attempted humour and kicked off the horse at a gallop.
There was the pain. Her ankle clacked against the horse's body and she winced, tucking herself closer in an effort not to fall off.
“Ellie!” His call rumbled out of him and she realised how heavily she was shivering. “Pick up the speed!” He had caught up to the first girl, travelling alongside her. “These two are in rough shape and I can hear that fuckin’ stampede getting closer.”
He didn’t get much response - the horse behind squealed and whinnied - they both swung their heads back to see where a hand had shot out of the pile-up and grabbed one of the legs. Only for a moment, she thought - the horse carried on with the rest of them, braying and huffing with the girl’s encouragement. But it had spooked her and the horse alike - she had wide eyes and a grimace that Abby thought had something to do with the way Owen was clinging onto her, slumping slightly to the left and slipping with each thud of hooves.
Abby called his name roughly, a far-fetched attempt at rousing him. She hadn’t seen if he’d been injured in the fall.
“Think you have the energy to be hollerin’ like that?”
The guy’s teasing held a strained edge, projected too loud to be genuine. He had black hair that tickled her temple as it bobbed up and down. She focused on the feeling of that, the dull pain shooting up her leg and underneath her as they got knocked around with the unstable animal.
Abby thought it was all a bit cliche; she didn’t know how long they’d been moving, had a hard time recollecting anything over the past few hours with any kind of clarity without a sharp pain spiking through her chest. And as they went on and on, and a looming stretch of planked wood as tall as three houses came into view, she realised she was going to live. The shrieks of the infected were there, but they were lagging behind, and she could see small figures at the top of the fortress walls waving, the thick panelled doors opening to them, grand and almost welcoming.
The brunette raced off to the entrance, yelling about having wounded in tow. A small group of men met them at the doors, already beginning spinning the chain to close the barrier to the encroaching horde. The horses barely made it through.
“This one’s on the worse side! Broken ribs, maybe?” The other girl cantered over to the group, swinging a leg off with ease and beginning to lift Owen off with the help of a few others. His face contorted dramatically, whining and wincing as he was placed on the snow. It looked less clean, inside the walls. Trodden by dozens of boots.
“What happened?” A new woman came out of one of the closest buildings, shoulder length blonde hair and a tight-fit flannel. Abby passingly wondered how she wasn’t freezing.
“Big blizzard hit.” The girl responded. “Found these two in the snow. We’re fine. Big group of infected heading our way, though.”
“Can I get some help?” The guy nodded his head back to where Abby’s was still leaning on him. A few came to rush over, gently towing her to her right and lifting her off. She knew something was really wrong with her, in the head or body or otherwise, by how little she felt the grappling hands, how little she was bothered by the overbearing strangers.
“What’s your name?” The girl sounded so genuine. “I’m Dina. This is Jessie. What are your names?”
Abby realised she was on the floor now, and raised herself onto her forearms. She could hear the horde broaching closer, glancing erratically between her - Dina - and the closed gate that, whilst it didn’t look flimsy, Abby doubted it would hold the sheer amount headed their way.
“We’ve got things in place.” Dina spoke before Abby could voice any worry. She gestured up to the top of the walls, where small watch-outs had men lined up on all sides with guns and flaming bottles ready.
“Will that be enough?” Abby’s voice was strained, throat sore and constricted. Jessie snorted above her.
“What - you gon’ help? We’ve got it covered. Won’t be the whole of the horde comin’ our way, anyway. They travel up north, toward the mountains. Any stragglers that end up here don’t give us too much trouble.”
She just nodded, somewhat skeptical but leaving any questions for later. If they said they were fine, they were fine. Fuck it.
The brunette that had been leading was speaking with the blonde, both hushed and tense, but nodding like they were in agreement with whatever had gone to shit.
“Ellie and Maria.” Dina offered. “Maria runs the place.”
The place. The group had been referring to it as ‘the city’ - looking around now, they’d given it a bit more praise then it deserved.
It was nice, sure. But no city. Rows of painted houses and small businesses that still looked to be in business. A butcher’s, a bar, leather shop; a few streets - they had street signs and everything - down she saw a trail of kids being led into what must have been a pre-school. Quiant. Like how the southern saloon states had looked on the roll of film they’d found deep in the QZ library. Just with three feet of snow piled at the end of the roads.
She sighed. Her breath was thick in the icy air. Made it in the end, she guessed.
“Name’s Abby.” She slumped back fully onto her back, so, so exhausted.
So this was Jackson.