Chapter Text
Rain.
That's all she could see as she dragged him across the street, under the watchful gaze of the cloudy grey sky, no comfort of its familiar blue color.
She tried blinking her eyes free from the rain, her arms growing weak with the weight of the man who she guessed was still slightly conscious.
She subconsciously hoped that he would be asleep, relaxed.
The bite mark on his leg had other plans, though.
Grunting, she hauled him up the stairs of some house's porch. It was the only place that looked less destroyed than the others in the neighborhood. She dragged him across the wooden deck, ignoring how it creaked with the threat of collapsing.
The front door was already open, so she wasted no time as she pulled him through the entrance. She could hear his ragged breathing, as she carefully settled him against the wall. The pittering of rain could still be heard from inside the house.
She whipped her head to the rest of the house, hoping to find a kitchen or maybe the living room where she could place him on a couch. But when her head faced the hallway, all she could see was white, like the end of the hallway was tainted with a white fog.
Confused, she blinked a couple of times, but the strange fog would not disappear.
Odd.
A cough interrupted her thoughts, making her turn her head to the source. The man beside her fluttered his open, giving a small smile when he noticed her.
"Dad…" she whispered as she met his eyes.
"It's okay, I'm gonna be okay," he murmured, taking deep breaths as if he just ran a marathon.
She looked down at his leg, racking her brain for ideas as she stared at the indigo bite mark. She couldn't think of anything, panic growing in her chest as she felt tears trickle down her face.
"Hey, hey, look at me," she heard him whisper as she felt a calloused hand cupping her cheek. "Look at me, everything's gonna be okay."
She shook her head, slightly irked by his empty reassurances, as she kept on crying. She rested her forehead on his.
"Sal, it's okay. Please, baby, you gotta be strong for me--"
She opened her eyes wide as she watched him move his head to the side, gasping in horror as he vomited bile that looked grossly similar to oatmeal. Her heart quickened when she noticed it had bits of red in it.
That wasn’t good. That really wasn’t good.
No no no no no. This is going all wrong.
And she doesn't know what to do.
"Dad…?" Her lip quivered as she could do nothing but just watch him.
"It's… okay…" he coughed, facing her as he rested his head against the wall again.
No no no, it was not okay. He was dying and she didn’t know what to do!
“I can fix it!” she randomly claimed, knowing deep down that there was really nothing she could do. But she had to try, right? She had to do something!
A crushing feeling paralyzed her mind as she flicked her eyes all over his face, searching for… for… anything. Hope, fear, restlessness, happiness. Anything to distract her from the flourishing dread that dangerously danced in her very core. It was going to overtake her unless she found any sense of belief that everything was going to be fine, that her father wasn’t lying and that he just simply needed to rest, simply needed some medicine.
He said he was going to be fine. Everything was going to be okay.
Right?
Her father coughed a bit more, bits of sickeningly dark mucus dripping down his lip into his beard. “I don’t think you can fix this one, kid.”
As if that sentence pulled some kind lever, a dull peacefulness suddenly settled between the two. She clenched her jaw in an attempt to stifle her crying.
She took a deep breath, watching him in the silence. She noticed his uneven breathing, seeming to have increased, and she could only guess the kind of pain he was going through. She's seen the infection take over someone before. She didn't want her father to go through that pain.
She didn't want to see anyone else go through that pain. Ever.
None of them spoke for a while, finding some eerie comfort in just sitting there and watching each other. There was really no use in doing anything. He was infected, and she finally accepted that. He was going to turn, become one of those sick monsters that do nothing but attack and kill.
She didn't want to think of her father in that way, but it was the truth. And there was no doubt he knew as well.
"What do I do?" She finally broke the silence.
Her father sighed. "Do what you gotta do. Find food, shelter. If you need to stay with a group, then do it."
She nodded her head slowly, unnecessarily wiping her face free from dried tears. There was really no point, she was sure more sobbing would happen later. Her expression was calm as she met her father's eyes.
"What about you?" She quietly asked.
Her father stayed silent. Whether that was his answer or if he was thinking of one, she didn't know. She just waited for his response as she watched him, noticing a distant look in his eyes.
"I don't know," he coughed before moving his head to the side to vomit once again.
She closed her eyes, listening to the bile splashing onto the floor with a grimace. She fought hard to not let anymore tears take over her.
"Sal, take this." She opened her eyes to find him handing over his bag. She took it and quickly put it on.
A trickle of determination washed over. She felt safe knowing the bag had a lot of resources she could use. Some food, an extra sweater, two guns and a few knives.
She leaned forward, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Go," he whispered, a sad smile gracing his lips.
She nodded, getting up and reluctantly taking a step back, and then another step, and another. She made it out the door, the rain pouring into her hair and onto her face again, mixing with her tears as she kept her eyes down.
Walking down the steps of the wooden deck into the street, she half-heartedly pulled the bag into the side. She was on her own now. Her dad always checked what supplies they had every once in a while.
The least she could do was continue that survival habit.
Digging into the bag, she found the knives in a side pocket with the packaged food all clumped together next to them. The dark green sweater was stuffed onto one side, making her slide her arm in to find the guns.
One gun met her hand, and she pulled it out to rest it in her pocket for quick access, just in case.
She didn't really need to equip the second gun, but she scavenged through the bag anyway, just to know that it was there.
The strange fog from before seemed to slowly surround her vision as she dug through the bag. Where was the gun? She couldn't find it anywhere, and the white mist was not helping, making her lose focus.
She jumped when she heard a loud bang, and she whipped her head around with wide eyes, realizing with horror where it came from.
"Dad!" Was the last thing she could scream out before the blurry fog blinded her sight.
---
Sally woke with a start, gasping as she sat up. Panting, she looked around, whipping her head from side to side to find anything recognizable that would tell her where she was.
The only thing registered in her head was that she was on a seat. A seat?
Where the fuck was she?
Turning her head, she found--
Grey.
Rain.
That was all she could see as she dragged him across the street --
Gasping again, she clenched her eyes shut, sinking her hands in her red hair, trying to cling to anything that would ground her.
She was there again. She didn't want to be there.
No no no no no!
It was real. She was there again.
Through her panic, she could hear a… a voice? But… he was dead, she heard the gun fire .
"Hey hey hey, it's okay, you're okay," she heard someone say.
It sounded soft, calm, safe. Sally relaxed ever so slightly before--
"It's okay, I'm gonna be okay," he murmured, taking deep breaths as --
Tears started filling her eyes as she tried to fight against the lump in her throat. She took rapid breaths, inhaling anything she could.
She was there again. There was no doubt. She was going to see him again, slumped against the wall looking worse than dead.
She didn't want to see him like that. Never, ever again!
Hands held her shoulders as she shook with every sob. "Fuck, uh, shit-- what do I do?" Someone mumbled.
But--
Her dad never said anything like that.
Wait-- huh?
"Sally?" A young voice spoke.
There wasn't anyone young back then…
Where was--
"Sally!"
She blinked her eyes open with a small gasp. She wasn't in a house, she was in… well, it looked like a bus, the seats dotted with random specks of color.
She could faintly hear the pittering rain from behind, causing her to almost teeter off the edge of calmness, but she held on.
Sally slowly gathered her thoughts. It was raining outside, she was on a seat, in a bus.
The events of the day before finally washed through her mind and she sighed in relief.
She wasn't there again. She was safe from the rain in a bus with…
She noticed the two figures hovering around her, their faces slowly looking familiar. Fundy's eyes were the first that came in her line of sight, speckled with youthful worry. Trench-coat-guy's perplexed expression came after.
She sighed again, feeling the itch of dried tear stains on her cheeks. She quickly wiped them.
"Feel better?" Fundy asked, moving to sit beside her.
Sally huffed, grateful for his concern even though there was no need for it. She was starting to calm down and he was a kid, he shouldn't feel the need to worry about anyone.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied.
"You don't look fine."
Sally rested her gaze on Trench-coat-guy while moving her hand through Fundy's hair. He leaned to the touch, and she caught his eyes drooping slightly.
"Sorry I woke you up, bud," she whispered. "Try to go back to sleep."
Fundy nodded his head in response, fully resting his head on her arm as his breath slowed with sleep.
Sally watched him in silence for a bit before turning her head to look outside the window. It was still raining, the heavy rain obscuring the surrounding with a dull grey.
Her breath hitched slightly. Yeah, better not look at that right now.
On the other side of the aisle, Trench-coat-guy sat with a few playing cards in front of him. He flicked through the rest of the cards as Sally watched him.
Her curiosity got the better of her. "What are you playin'?"
Trench-coat-guy glanced up at her, giving a small smile before looking back down. "Solitaire."
"Fun," she replied, even though she's never played before.
Trench-coat-guy nodded before looking back up, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine, okay? Just… had a bad dream."
He stayed silent for a bit before looking at her again. "Wanna talk about it?"
Sally shook her head rapidly. "No. No, I don't want to talk about it at all."
"Hey, it's fine. You don't have to if you don't want to," he assured. He went back to the game and placed a card down.
That's when Sally realized something. "Hey, uh… by the way, what's your name?"
Trench-coat-guy didn't look up. "Wilbur."
Sally couldn't help but smile a bit, the only thing coming to her mind was Charlotte's Web . Who names their kid Wilbur these days? It was a relatively old fashioned name.
"Your name is Sally, right?" Wilbur asked.
Sally nodded. Now they were familiar with each other's names. Well, she wasn't sure if he knew Fundy's name, but she didn't tell him anyways.
"Sorry I panicked like that earlier," she said. She didn't know why she was apologizing to him.
"No need to apologize. I just don't really know how to help with panic attacks."
"Who does?" She huffed. She didn't, for sure. She never had any panic attacks before… before…
"My dad does," Wilbur replies.
She looked up in surprise. "Really?" The subject of the conversation made her back straighten, but she tried to suppress those memories.
Wilbur nodded. "Yeah, my little brother started having them since the outbreak and my dad helped him deal with them."
"You have a little brother?" Sally raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, and a twin brother."
Sally's expression looked slightly impressed. "Huh, never really took you to have quite a few siblings."
"Never took you to have panic attacks."
Sally sighed. That was… fair, she guessed. She herself never thought she'd have to deal with them.
Wilbur placed down another card before shuffling through the small deck he held in his hands. "What about you and Fundy? Is he your brother or something?"
So he did know Fundy's name. "Or something," she replied. "Found him hiding in one of those mansions down in the south side of the city. He was all alone, so I just sort of adopted him."
She wasn't expecting to find him in the first place. She had decided to search through the richer neighborhoods, hoping to find extra supplies that were not available in other regular houses. She did not expect to find a kid shivering and so fucking afraid, cowering in one of the bedrooms' closet.
She pledged to take care of him the second they made eye contact.
"He was by himself?" Wilbur asked, placing another card down.
Sally nodded. "Yeah. Don't really know where his parents went, but I'm thinking they may have left him." She looked down at Fundy's peaceful expression, his head now resting on her lap.
Wilbur only hummed, shuffling through the deck of cards once again.
"What about you? Where's the rest of your family?" Sally asked.
Wilbur paused before placing another card down. "Got separated from them."
Sally raised an eyebrow. "Zombie horde," he clarified.
"Oh."
"Yeah, speaking of…" he started gathering his cards after a satisfying win. "How the fuck can you talk to them?"
She sighed. "You ready for a long answer? 'Cause it'll probably get really fucking complicated."
Wilbur pocketed the cards, and then settled comfortably in his seat, head resting against the window behind him. "I'm listening."