She knocks again, a little louder, and still nothing.
“It’s Sweetie! Let me in!” she says, her pitched elevated, but her volume low.
She twists the knob and the door opens without any resistance. She’s surprised to find no one in the room. Outlaw’s bed isn’t made, he left in a hurry. They must be gathered in another room. Hawaii and Zee’s room is the largest, they must be in there.
She jogs to the other end of the hallway. She knocks again and still isn’t met with a reply. She attempts to turn the handle, but it’s locked.
“It’s Sweetie! Let me in!” she says, a bit of exasperation in her voice.
Only a moment passes before the door flies open, and she’s greeted by Hawaii, Zee, Rad, and Outlaw in defensive positions, all holding knives.
“¡Coño!” she exclaims.
Startled by the sight of them her hand covers her chest. Outlaw grabs his sister’s arm and pulls her inside the room.
“What the hell is goin’ on?!” he asks.
Her head weaves back and forth as her hand runs through her hair.
“I don’t know. Rosaline said there’s an infected on the farm. She’s gonna kill it.”
“We know that much.” Hawaii responds.
“She just sent you up here? She doesn’t want help?” Zee asks.
“I mean, are you surprised?” Sweetie replies.
Rad steps in front of the others, his large frame towering over Sweetie.
“Just one or are there more?”
“I don’t know. Rosaline said there could be.”
“So, what do we do then?” Zee asks, a palpable haste to her words.
Rad’s attention turns from Sweetie to the others.
“If she wanted help she would’ve asked for it.”
“So we just leave her out there? Alone?” Zee replies.
Hawaii’s hands wave in the air.
“I don’t know what we should do. Is she really going to need our help? She’s a better fighter than all of us, maybe even all of us together.”
“I don’t know about that.” Rad says.
A smirk upon the lumbering man's face, he holds his fist out to Outlaw, who taps his knuckles against it, and gives a reassuring nod. Sweetie shakes her head, her eyes rolling hard in the process.
“¡Ay chachos! Calm down.”
Mikey moves from the bed, joining the semi circle they’ve formed.
“Rosaline will keep us safe. She’s good at that.” he says.
The confidence in his words hangs in the air as though it were a declaration of an absolute. Zee’s head shakes, her frustration showing.
“Look, she’s doing this to protect us, we can’t leave her alone. What if there are more?”
“So we risk our own lives?” Rad replies.
“¡Pendejo! She’s risking hers!” Sweetie forcefully interjects.
Rad’s head snaps to Sweetie, his eyes piercing with anger.
“Don’t fuckin' start with me.”
“!Mámame el bicho!”
His brow furrows, his jaw clenches.
“Be glad I don’t know what that means.”
“I’m not afraid of you chacho!”
“Fuck you!”
"!Vete pal carajo!"
"Stop that!"
Hawaii quickly places himself between the two, his hands held up in the air.
"Both of you stop!" he says.
Their glares at each other hold for another long moment as silence overtakes them. Finally, Rad relents and turns away from her. He stomps over to the bed and sits. Sweetie scoffs, breaking her attention away from him.
Mikey moves to Zee and takes her hand. The action catching her off guard, her brow raises as she looks down at him. The little boy's face holds no contempt, only a distant formation of worry, despite his assured demeanor. She forces a smile to him and he returns in kind, then wraps his free arm around her leg.
"Zee's right, we can't leave her out there alone. We asked her to leave, but she's doing this to help us, we have to help her." Hawaii says.
He glances to his companion, gratitude and relief showing on her face.
"Rad, you're strong, I need you with me."
Rad opens his mouth to protest, then sighs after a short moment, and bobs his head.
"The rest of you stay here. There's no need for all of us to be in danger."
Hawaii motions to Rad and he joins him at the door.
"Slow and quiet, we make sure nothing is in the house first."
"I got you."
Hawaii timidly cracks the door open, just enough for each of them to slip out. They wait until they hear it lock again before moving forward. They crouch down and stay low to the ground. Upon reaching the railing that connects to the stairs they pause, listening for any noise or movement in the house.
If anyone, or anything, is inside there's a good chance it heard their argument. Given that nothing is in the hall or on the stairs it's safe to assume there are no unwanted guests. Still, they have to be sure. Just as they reach the stairs the front door opens. It isn't a forceful push, nor a discrete one, rather an opening like any other.
Under the door frame a figure appears. The hunched body before them is dirty, unkempt, and its hands tremble. This is not a person, it's a Talker, or an Adapted, as Rosaline calls them. The two men freeze in place, unsure of their next move. They don't keep any guns in the house, they're all stashed away in the barn. The only weapons they allow are a single hunting knife for each of them.
Neither man is skilled with a knife. It's been a long time since Rad had to use one to defend himself, and unfortunately for Hawaii he never has. They know they can't let this monster get past them.
Before either of them can react a voice from outside the house screams to the Adapted.
"Hey, fuckhead! I'm right here."
The voice is Rosaline's, and she's yelling at the top of her lungs. She is somewhere in the front of the house, beyond their sight. The Adapted swivels around, its back now to them, and tilts its head.
"Are you alone?" it asks.
"Just you and me you ugly fuck. I killed your buddies in the woods."
Suddenly, in a storm of violent aggression, the Adapted bursts from their view. The two men quietly hurry down the stairs to assist her. They cover the distance from the bottom of the steps to the doorway in a matter of seconds. They pass through the entrance just in time to see the Adapted swing wildly at Rosaline, only for her to duck the blow and swing her hammer. Her attack connects with the thigh of the Adapted. The creature jerks to the side, the force of the blow altering its path. She rises up, swinging her hammer in an uppercut. The Adapted throws its arms forward, smothering her rising attack, and leaping onto her.
She stumbles back, the creature laying all its weight onto her. It bites at her neck, but she's already wedged her knee in between them, creating just enough space for her to lean back and keep the monster from latching onto her.
The two bewildered men rush from the porch and onto the grass. They halt for a moment, stare down at their knives, then back to each other. Not wanting to risk stabbing Rosaline, Hawaii distraughtly shakes his head. His eyes wide and his brow raised, he offers no proposal for their next action. Rad stares at him for a quick beat, then his eyes widen just the same.
“Guns!” he exclaims.
Without any further hesitation the tall man bolts off for the barn.
Rosaline extends her leg, pushing the Adapted further away. Just as she is able to position her foot on the pelvis of the monster, it grabs her hair and yanks her forward. She jerks violently toward the morose open mouth. The beast throws its other arm wildly at her, a haymaker meant to dismember. She gives into the forceful pull, lunges with it, pivots to the side, drops to her knees, and swings her hammer. The strike impacts the kneecap of the beast with great intensity.
The Adapted buckles, falling forward, onto its hands and knees. It pushes itself upright almost instantly, but Rosaline is already on top of it again. Her hammer con
nects viciously with the back of its head, the claw end wedging deep into its skull. Her hunting knife already in hand, she pulls the hammer back, tilting the disgusting head, then slams the knife under its jaw. The struggling Adapted falls limp, then she kicks it to the ground.
She dislodges her knife and hammer, then turns around to see Hawaii staring at her in an amazed horror. The young warrior woman's clothes are covered in blood, her hair is a tangled mess, she's drenched in sweat, and breathing heavily. Rad returns, sprinting madly, almost out of breath himself.
"Are there-" Hawaii begins to ask.
"No." Rosaline says, cutting him off.
"You killed them all?!" Rad's question comes off almost as an exclamation.
"Yeah.” -she kneels down, panting- “There was a diseased by the barn, two Adapted in the woods with another diseased, and this one."
The men exchange curious glances to each other.
"How did you know where they were at?" Hawaii asks.
"Adapted need sightlines. When they travel with diseased they send them out to cause chaos, to make their kills easier. It was by the back of the barn, so they had to be seeing it from that angle."
"And they just, what, waited for you?" Rad's question is filled with suspicion.
"They saw me coming, they don’t avoid their prey. They hide to create an advantage, but they don’t run from a kill."
The men share alarmed glances once again, before Rosaline continues.
"Get the others, I have something to say."
Rad looks to Hawaii, who motions for him to do as she asked. Rad disappears back into the house to get the rest of The Family and Mikey. Hawaii and Rosaline await their arrival in silence, the wind singing lightly under the bright sun. The silence isn't awkward, there's a level of determination to Rosaline that he hadn't previously noticed from her.
It's less than two minutes from Rad's leaving until he returns with the others in tow. Mikey immediately bounds down the stairs of the deck toward Rosaline. She holds her hand up at him.
"Woah, woah buddy. Don't touch me."
He stops a few paces in front of her, examines the scene for a short moment, then walks to her side and turns to face The Family. Rosaline takes a deep breath.
"Listen, here it is plain and simple, you need me. None of you knew the diseased were here. Sweetie could've been killed. Sure, anyone could've seen it through the window and done something about it, but would any of you have known to search the woods for others? Do any of you know their patterns? Their tendencies?"
She pauses, allowing her questions to linger, suspecting none of them have an answer.
"I know I'm kinda scary, I can't help that, and I don't want to. It's good, it works for me. It's kept me and Mikey safe these past few years. I grew up out there, among them, with nothing. I had to fight every second of every day to live. None of you had to do that. You went from a community to this farm. I'm not saying you've had easy lives, no one gets those anymore, but you haven't had the experiences I have. You're not used to killing, I am and I'm good at it. I'm not proud of it, but at times, like this one, I'm thankful that I am.
"Mikey needs this place, he needs you, and so do I. Be honest with yourselves, you need me too. I can teach all of you how to fight like I do, how to kill like I can. I don't want to leave here-"
Her attention moves down to Mikey.
"We don't want to leave here. We need this place, we need you guys."
She smiles at Mikey before looking back to The Family. She tries to read their faces, but none of them are giving her any clear signals. After a long moment Zee steps forward and turns to face them.
"She's right. She didn't have to help us today. We asked her to leave, and she could've just left, but she didn't. She killed those things to keep us safe, even after we pushed her away. None of us have the drive to do what she does, but we can learn, and she can help us. She could've just left, but she cares, so she didn't. She's not a bad person, she's just different."
A few moments pass with no reactions, the rest of The Family still absorbing all that's transpired. After a few beats Sweetie breaks the uneasy silence.
"I'm with Zee."
She glances to Rosaline, catching a sheepish smile upon the bloody warrior's face. Hawaii moves from the pack, standing next to his companion.
"It's clear that Rosaline protected us today. If anyone has anything else to say about it, now is the time."
Rad slowly shakes his head, even he can't offer any objections.
"Outlaw?" Hawaii asks.
"She saved my sister, I'm good with it."
Hawaii and Zee pivot to face Rosaline and Mikey.
"Welcome back." Zee says, her elation showing in full force.
"We need to be extra alert the next while, deep perimeter checks several times a day. I don't think there are any more out there, but we have to be careful."
"That's a good idea." Hawaii says.
"Good, now that we settled all that, I need a bath."
CHAPTER THIRTY
Patrick lay motionless on his side, his face away from Daisy, staring at the worn down wall. He's been on the floor in the corner of the room since the previous night. He hasn't spoken a word, but that's not unusual for Patrick, in general he doesn't speak much. This boy has experienced lifetimes of grief in his fifteen years on Earth.
Her hand gently brushes up and down on his shoulder, hoping to offer at least some sense of comfort. She can't imagine what it's like always feeling as if you're shrouded in darkness, having no family, no home, no sense of self. She'll never forget the heartbreak she felt when he told her that is what life is like for him.
This boy watched his father turn, his mother's body be ripped apart, and his father die at his own hands. In a rare moment, one of only two she's had with Patrick, he told her it were as though he was outside of his own body, watching someone else's story, and since that night he's never felt like he returned to himself.
The years that followed didn't get much better for Patrick. He scavenged to survive, often eating the remains of already dead animals, or any insects, or fruits, he happened to come upon. He felt a desperate hunger at all times, a pit that would never fill. These eating habits lead to sickness on more occasions than he could remember.
He encountered living people only twice in the two years he was alone, after the death of his parents, and before Daisy, Jack, and Norman found him. Both times he was physically abused, robbed, and left to die, and each time he hoped for the release of death. He survived both encounters, and he's still not sure how he was able to, or why he was cursed with having to carry on.
He'd considered throwing himself at the infected and letting them end him, but the memory of his father's lifeless eyes came rushing back to him, and he couldn't do it. He wouldn't become the thing that tore his world apart.
The days passed and Patrick's heart continued to pump, his brain continued to fire, his lungs continued to fill, and the darkness around him continued to close in. He needed some kind of escape, something to make him feel, anything to make life seem real.
The first time Patrick cut himself he'd done so with an old rusted knife he'd found. The act make him violently ill for days after, but Patrick didn't care, the sharp object penetrating his flesh was a grand release. He wept each time he did it, but not because it hurt. He wept because it made him feel something. He had longed to feel anything at all.
As her hand lightly runs back and forth over his shoulder, her eyes well, oceans of sadness behind them. She can see the stains of dried blood that have seeped out onto his pants, from his sleeve below his forearm. Her tears come faster and harder at the sight of it. He's never told her why he cuts, but deep down she knows why.
She leans over his body, just enough to see his face, and whispers to him.
"I'll be back in a bit, okay?"
He doesn't respond, and she didn't really expect him to, but still, she held out hope for it. She gingerly rises and exits the room, leaving the doo
r open. She finds Norman pacing in the small kitchen, not able to keep himself calm while Jack is away with Karo.
She places her hand on his back, offering comfort.
"They'll be alright. Jack's too smart for them not to be."
Norman nods repeatedly, the speed of it giving away the facade he's presenting.
"I know, I know." he replies, his gaze not moving away from the spot on the wall he's been concentrating on.
"Hey" -she says, pausing until his attention moves to her- "they will be."
His bottom lip curls under his front teeth as his head bobs again. He tries to shake away his anxiousness before responding.
"How, uh, is Patrick?"
Her expression drops, a frown forming upon her face.
"Not great. He's cutting again."
Norman's brow raises.
"How? With what?"
Her head shakes in defeat.
"I don't know."
His fingers grip the ridge of his nose, rubbing back and forth.
"I hoped this was behind us."
"Me too."
His eyes begin to redden, his hand falls to his side.
"That boy is" -a catch in his throat brings on a momentary pause as he collects himself- "he's just so young, so precious, and so hurt."
He covers his face, attempting to stifle his emotion. Daisy places her arm around his neck, bringing him in close, and hugging him tightly. He wraps his arms around her waist, buries his face into her shoulder, and let's himself go. She doesn't say anything, figuring Norman needs to get it out.
After a long moment of allowing himself to break down, Norman pulls back, and regathers his composure. He wipes the tears from under his eyes as he softly speaks.
"I'll go check on him, you get some rest while you can."
She rubs his arm once more.
"Thank you."
Norman quietly enters the room Patrick is laid in. The teen is still facing the wall, nearly pressed against it, in a fetal position. Norman lowers himself to the floor next to the anguished boy.
"Hey, buddy. I know you don't want to say anything, and that's alright, but if you don't mind, I'd like to talk."
Patrick doesn't respond. No words, no movement, he remains a rigid stillness.
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