CONTENT WARNING: This chapter has graphic scenes of gore and violence (including minors). If you do not wish to read, a small recap will be provided at the opening of the next chapter.
Tish almost couldn't believe what she was seeing. Cazalla, fit as a fucking fiddle, running into the fray. Tish’s jaw dropped and she stared but for only a moment, there was no time for shock. Not now.
Laurence went down, be it a fall or something else she didn’t know, no chance to check. But she dragged him back and he weighed a tonne.
She saved us? The thought burned in Tish as the horde started to thin. Not enough, but it was a chance. No. She ran. She just ran.
Viola was a mess on the ground, grovelling and crying as her son Peter tried to pull her up to her feet. Nyssa stood by as Chandra helped Tish drag Laurence through his groans of pain.
“Can you walk?” Tish whispered.
Laurence nodded, sweat beading with rain on his brow. Her eyes scanned the deep gashes in the meat of his calf for a bite, but blood obscured the wound and trickled down to his boot.
“Chandra, I've got this. You get them.” Tish nodded towards Viola and Peter. They had moments to get the hell out of there before the few wendigos feasting would turn to them. And there were always more waiting within earshot.
The others. Tish looked over the cars, a quick panicked glance to catch the flash of Shannon’s tall frame disappearing in the brush. Relief let her exhale. Good luck. She wanted to yell it but all of her strength went into supporting Laurence, his arm slung over her shoulder.
“We have to keep going. You walk, I'll cover,” he groaned. The two hobbled to the packs and there, on the sled, the restraints that once held Cazalla were frayed and torn. This whole goddamn time we should have been more worried about keeping her down. Even after that bite.
“There's nothing you can do, Viola. You have to help Peter now.” Chandra spoke softly while Peter paled with fear. If it can be imaged, Viola was worse. She looked half like a wendigo herself as she stumbled with Chandra.
She'll drag us. We can't have her dragging us.
Tish sighed. “Your young one, Shane, is with the best wendigo killer out there. She’ll keep him safe. And I saw Reid and Shannon with two kids, one had to be your girl.” The lies poured from Tish and Viola's face started to come back to life.
Laurence grunted in disapproval but he didn’t dare speak up. Chandra met her eyes, briefly, but didn’t call her on the lies either. There would be time to be angry, to grieve later. Only if they kept moving.
“There are stairs, to the overpass.” Laurence motioned south, putting some weight on the wound to support himself. “We can go up here and follow the line of the highway without being on it. If we stay on the west side of the road we should be okay.”
Glancing back at the forest on the east side of the parkway, Tish wondered how long the others would last. Shannon knows the way. They’ll be okay. But she knew, this time, she was lying to herself.
“You-” Chandra came up alongside Tish “-you said you saw two kids, only two?” Her voice trembled.
“We don’t have time for a fucking headcount,” Laurence snapped.
But it didn’t take Tish long to review the numbers in her head. Ethan, Wendy, and Alice. Somehow their names came to her without a second thought, their faces supernaturally clear in the dark. Tish hadn’t dealt with them all that much, besides Ethan. He wasn’t so bad, he’d been handy, smart even.
Laurence barked something else and they pressed on without answering. Chandra’s eyes drifted away from the path ahead as she led Nyssa on to walk with Peter and Viola.
“How long once we’re up on the bridge?” Tish whispered to Laurence when they were alone.
He looked around to see where they were. Each step was harder. He was twice her size and supporting him herself was no easy task, even if she hadn’t been carting Eamon around for hours.
I should have followed them into the woods.
“Maybe forty minutes at this pace. When, when uh get to the stairs, I can - I’ll lift myself up.” Each word seemed harder for him to say than the last. “Don't give them any weapons.” Laurence looked ahead to the others. “Don’t trust them for a second.”
Laurence’s paranoia demanded too much. He and Tish carried all the weapons, the bulk of the supplies, and Tish supported him. Pain swelled with each step and, after an hour of hobbling through the streets, her muscles quaked with exhaustion.
But the worst part? That goddamn wound on Laurence's leg.
Every time they stopped for Tish to get a breather, she stole quick glances. It wasn’t a bite, but she’d seen bad scratches before. He'd been caught by a wendigo hand that was more like a claw of bones that raked across his skin. If it had been a freshly dead wendigo there would be little concern; everyone knew now that the virus wasn't in the scratch but in the bite and blood. But the wendigo had rotted and had bleeding fleshy fingers. When it dug into his skin it must have left something worse behind.
All the signs were present. He was weakening quickly, the colour drained from his skin, the wound festered faster than it should, and he was beyond agitated. Twice Tish had to calm Laurence down when Viola wept for her missing, and probably dead children. At one point, he’d screamed at Peter for no reason.
But this stop was different. Laurence grunted and lifted his arm off Tish. He took his pack and ripped it open, scrounging fast through it. He tore into the few emergency protein bars they had, devouring three in a matter of minutes.
Tish’s skin itched. Leave. She could feel the word spurning her muscles on, but Laurence had his hand on his gun.
Tish knew this part of the infection was the worst. Not because of the danger but because they were coherent enough to think they were… normal. The irritability, the hunger, the fever, he couldn’t see it. Laurence tossed the wrappers aside on the ground and found his flask.
Right, because whiskey is going to make this all fucking better.
“I'm fine,” Laurence snapped at Tish. “Stop fuckin’ hovering.” He zipped up his bag, flask still in his hand, and thumbed his gun.
“You have got to keep quiet,” Tish hissed at Laurence. “It's not far,” she pleaded, looking down the road.
He spat at her from the ground, his hand resting on his knee.
They hadn’t made good time. They were maybe twenty minutes away at a good pace, but it’d taken them almost three times as long to go the same distance. The buildings that still stood were quiet and empty. Walls she knew could be teaming with the dead but waiting for a meal to pass by.
Laurence leaned against an old mailbox.“Fuck off Tish, you can't tell me what to do.” He pointed the shotgun at her.
She raised her hands and stepped back. The others distanced themselves from Laurence and Tish
“Put the gun down,” Tish commanded as she stared him down.
Her machete still hung at her hip but she wasn’t faster than Laurence on her best day. No one was faster than a gun. She met his eyes, staring down the fever in them. This wasn’t the same as staring at a wendigo as it crept nearer. This was looking into a man without hope. Part of her wondered which was worse.
“I know what you're thinking and fuck you,” he growled. Laurence couldn't keep his eyes open, the lids closing and the gun wavering.
“It's alright, Tish.” Chandra broke the stare down and the gun meandered its way to her.
“No!” Nyssa called out but Viola held the little girl to her chest.
Peter circled around behind his mother.
“It's fine, everything is fucking fine.” Tish was a little louder than she liked but it seemed to quiet Laurence enough to lower the gun to rest on his knee. The barrel still pointed at Chandra.
Chandra forced a smile, but her fingers trembled. “We can just go on, Tish. If he wants to stay-”
“You're not fucking leaving me here like this,” Laurence spat. His free hand lifted from his leg and searched through the pack pulling out another protein bar. His lips watered as he struggled to get the wrapper off with one hand before giving up and biting into the plastic.
“You have to carry me,” he mumbled through wrapper and granola in his mouth, eating both without concern.
“Can't do that with a fucking gun pointed at us,” Tish said.
Chandra shot her a reproachful look. “She does have a point, Laurence. We want to help you, but you have to let us.”
“I don't trust you.” Laurence ate every last bit of the bar and wrapper before diving back into the pack. He pulled out a can and, like an animal, gnawed on the metal. “I know what you're thinking.” He pointing the can at Chandra. “You think I don't know? I can see it. I can see it in your goddamn black beady eyes. Staring at me, watching me stumble.”
“I think we should all calm down.” Chandra tried to take a step towards him but he threw the can in her direction.
“Stay back!” His voice boomed and echoed through the empty street despite the rain. Even as he turned, some sort of sense began to wash over him that it was too loud. He looked around as if waiting for the sound of dragging flesh to break into their silence.
With Laurence’s attention diverted, Peter inched along one of the buildings and stood less than ten feet behind him. Laurence couldn't see Peter behind the mailbox
Tish’s skin crawled. Fucking bail. Get the fuck out. Her pulse thundered in her mind, her heart ready to burst. This is fucked. This is going to get so fucked.
“You're right,” Chandra blurted and Laurence faced her. “We're thinking what you think we are. But if you don't let us help you, we will leave you here. Isn’t that right, Tish?”
Tish’s eyes dashed between Laurence and Peter who still advanced. You're not strong enough, kid! A whimper from Viola's lips told Tish the mother wasn't far from crying the words herself.
“Yeah,” Tish managed through her gritting teeth. “You know people can come back if they get well. Rest, and all that. We’ve seen it happen.”
Chandra nodded beside her, motioning for Tish to keep talking.
“Remember Stew?” Tish picked the name out of the air. “That fellow six months back, the one who got sick at the college. He was in a fucked up way, right? But he came back.” Stew wasn’t his name. Stew hadn’t come back. They hadn’t waited long enough to find out. But Laurence frowned as if trying to remember.
Tish extended her hand. “If you just give me the gun, I can help get you there. Get you right.”
“I can't trust you.” Saliva dripped from Laurence’s mouth.
“You have to,” Tish said.
Peter’s foot scuffed the ground. Laurence turned to look behind him.
“You have to or you die!” Tish said louder, and it called Laurence back. “If we don’t clear up the infection fast, you’re one of them.” The words were heavy, reeking of falsehood and Laurence snarled.
Tish dares another step forward. “There's nothing worse than being one of them. You told me that.”
Laurence started to lower his gun until Peter knocked a small crushed can. Spinning with inhuman speed, Laurence fired off a shot, skinning the side of Peter's leg.
“You goddamn bastards!” Laurence screamed, rising to his feet and ignoring his pain. But as he did his jaw went slack and his eyes wide.
Chandra gasped.
Tish lunged for the full-grown man as he hammered his mouth down on Peter's bleeding leg.
The sound of the teen’s scream was almost shrill as he collapsed under the weight of two people and teeth biting into his flesh. Chandra finally snapped to and wrapped her arms around Laurence’s neck and tried to pull him back. Behind them, Viola's chimed in with cries as Laurence tore a chunk out with his teeth.
“Get off of him!” Tish yelled. Her hands found the softest part of Laurence’s face. They sunk into his eyes. The sensation was nothing she could have ever imagined as the sound of his scream bellowed into a howl like one of those creatures. Instinct made his arms thrash and shake until both Chandra and Tish were knocked to the ground.
But it was enough for Peter. Wrestling the gun away, as it was no longer important to a wendigo, Peter pulled the barrels up to Laurence's chest. There was a moment's pause where the grown man screamed and held his bleeding eyes. Then, the shot filled the street with an echoing boom.
Blood splattered across Tish's chest and spilled onto the pavement.
Viola ran to her son, leaving Nyssa standing by herself in the road.
Chandra was on her ass staring wide-eyed at the limp body on the curb. But it twitched, despite the hole in its heart.
Tish pushed to her feet, unsheathed her machete, and brought it down on Laurence’s neck. One strike after the other, she hammered through flesh and sinew and bone. Only once it lolled aside, and the twitching stopped, did she feel it. Her eyes trailed down to her own hands covered in blood and pieces of Laurence's eyes. Like jello left in the sun. Sticky. Wet. Warm.
Her fingers began to shake.
“Get the blood off of you,” Chandra gasped out the words, her own face splattered red.
Tish started to rip off her shirt. He's dead. He’s fucking dead. Whilst shivering, she put out her hands and the rain diluted the thick red staining her skin. It streaked her in waves as it formed drops dripping from her fingers.
But the soft whimpers of Peter brought her back to the horrible reality.
“He's… he's been bitten,” Viola cried softly, her face dripping with new tears.
Like the shock was nothing, Chandra made her way to look at the leg. She tore at her shirt and wrapped the wound up with what bit of it was clean and pulled it tight. Peter flinched and stifled a yelp from the pain.
“We need to hurry.” Tish picked up the shotgun that had just been fired. She approached them, Viola crying and hovering over her son saying ‘no, no, please no'.
“You can't!” Chandra begged.
“I'm not.” Looking at Peter, Tish bent down to him. “You might not be infected. He’d… he’d just turned so he may not have been infectious. I dunno. I've seen worse bites get better. I mean, it’s not fucking likely, but you could live and…” Her fingers flexed as if they could shake off the memory of what she’d done. “I’m not interested in killing anyone else right now.”
Viola relaxed a little and Peter watched the weapon intently.
“But I hold the gun,” Tish said. “And if you start to turn, if you give even the slightest sign-”
“I know,” Peter whimpered before trying to push himself up.
Tish offered her hand. “We don't have much time.”
Peter nodded again. Making sure to avoid the blood, Tish pulled items from Laurence's body. The gear was precious, more so than the life, and there was no telling what they’d need before they reached safety. But she could still feel his eyes on her fingers, even if the rain had washed them away.
“We have maybe a half-hours brisk pace ahead of us. The sooner we leave the better. Agreed?” Tish looked to Chandra with command and she nodded in response. “We run. As much as you can.”
Peter looped an arm over his mother’s shoulder. With Chandra tending to Nyssa, Tish took in a steadying breath.
“Is Peter going to be alright?” Nyssa asked.
“I hope so,” Chandra whispered.
Tish couldn’t say for sure, but her gut screamed for her to run.
