At the End of the World [Laine x Pari]

Error404

Error404

The Ice Queen
((I'll add my character, if you want me to, but I'm excited to get started.))


The plants around the house were as green as ever, showing that life still continued on, as impossible as it seemed. The girl peered through the greenery, eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at the house in front of her. There it was. She took a deep breath, knowing that if she screwed this up, her friend could die... And come back to life. This was her last chance, and she knew it. Her gun was in its holster on her thigh, if she needed it. Though she was pretty sure the only inhabitant in the house was out, she wanted to be on the safe side, as much as she would hate to use it.


Still watching the house, she crept around, searching for anyplace she could break inside, while still on the lookout for the undead. Most of the windows were boarded up, and looked solid. The doors were her best hope. Extracting a lockpick from her pocket, she walked up to the back door, careful to stay quiet. The lockpick she had traded for. It hadn't been cheap, costing her a good bit of her small supply of food. But she would do whatever it took to help her friend.


The lock was tough, and the lockpick wasn't that great. It took her precious minutes to get the door open, and when she did, she was sure to lock it behind her - so no one could come in. The house was dark and quiet, which she hoped meant no one was home. When she was sure it was locked, she started her search. Carefully going through the cabinets and every nook and cranny she could find, she started panicking when she couldn't find any medicine. Where was it? It wasn't until she was deep in the upstairs bedroom closet that she found it. The safe.
 
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Light footsteps trundled through the overgrowth that finally led up to his house, a neat-looking old fashioned thing perched on the edge of the city, nestled within a set of ornamental trees. He’d never liked his parents personal taste when it came to housing, but the flora and extra land around it gave him a certain amount of cover and from that, he felt a little more secure from the many perils the outside world now seemed to promise. He took extra precautions in just getting there, taking three or four dead-end routes before he reached it, knowing you could never be too careful in his line of trade. The backpack strapped to him was heavy with cans of food and a few packs of batteries, toilet paper, commodities and tiny luxuries he’d come to miss over the short few weeks since the outbreak, and he smiled to himself a little as he thought of the fortune that had brought him into his position.


He dug out a key that he kept around his neck, hidden from view, looking back and forth around him to check he definitely hadn’t been followed. The back door opened with a satisfying click and he shuffled in, careful to lock the door behind him. The house had been carefully searched by the intruder – he didn’t suspect a thing when he was presented with the kitchen of the house, and breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped his backpack on the table. He reached inside it, and busied himself in opening a can of the food he’d traded for – a rare feast of meatballs – humming as he did so. He dug into it unceremoniously with a fork, blissfully unaware of the intrusion upstairs, the creaking of the old-fashioned house masking her movements.


After he had done eating, he carefully stacked the remaining cans of food in the floorboards under the table - it would be stupid to leave them in the cabinets or the defunct fridge. He wandered over to the living room, unstrapping the large rifle from his shoulder and flopping down on the couch. The gun was there for mainly to look threatening while he was trading – he’d only fired it twice since the outbreak, and had missed both times. He grabbed a cloth and started cleaning it meticulously, admiring the weapon before laying it to rest next to the arm of the sofa. He then kicked off his boots and settled down for a nap. He rarely went upstairs, only venturing into his lost parent’s bedroom to fetch more pills and syringes to feed his eager customers with, preferring the number of quick escapes that were present on the ground floor. He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his head on the comfortingly soft pillows as he nodded off to sleep.
 
She was deep in concentration, one ear pressed against the safe as she fiddled with the dial. The thief hadn't realized the owner of the house, and the goods she would be stealing, was home, as she was absorbed in listening for the little click that would tell her if she got a number correct. She sat there, slowly turning the dial and listening, her breathing steady and quiet. Click. One down, three to go. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her palms, she knew she didn't have much time. Click. One more, she told herself. One more. Spinning the dial, she repeated the process, slowly turning it and listening for the small sound, staying quiet so she did not miss it. If she did, that would only delay her further. She was running low on time, and she knew it well. Maybe she was already out. Whatever was in the safe, she hoped she had guessed correctly. Holding her breath, she spun the dial. Click.





Hand trembling, she reached up and opened the safe, greeted by the sight of tons of boxes of medicine, it was almost like heaven to her. Placing her backpack on the ground, she unzipped it and filled it with as many boxes and syringes that she could fit in it. When she had, she zipped it up and put it on her back, significantly heavier than it had been before. Incing out of the closet, she crept down the stairs - only to see the boy who owned the house on the couch. Her breath caught in her throat until she realized he was sleeping. Footsteps light and nimble, she crept past him carefully, watching for any sign of him hearing her and waking up. The pills rattled dangerously in their boxes, and she held her breath, pausing. The house was enveloped in silence once more. When she was satisfied that he was not waking up, she made her way over to the door, opening it as carefully and quietly as she could. The loud creak of the door startled her and she fled the house, sprinting away and not looking back.


Her own home wasn't as hidden, nor as big. She lived in the city, in a small townhouse. Careful to watch for any dangers, she fumbled with the key as she stumbled up the porch steps. The full backpack had weighed her down, and she was in a hurry. Unlocking the door, she entered, pausing only to shut and lock it before hurrying into the living room. Her friend didn't look well, and she bit her lip. "Hey. I'm back," she said softly, taking the backpack off. The thief dumped the contents, searching through it. Over-the-counter, prescription, painkillers, antibiotics, syringes full of mysterious liquids. Selecting a strong antibiotic, she opened up the box, shaking out the correct dosage for her friend. "Can you sit up?"


Her friend did, with a cry of pain. "I don't think this is going to work," she said weakly, hand pressed against the bite mark on her thigh. "You should just ki-"


"No, don't talk like that." Giving her friend the pills, she watched the other girl swallow them. "Do you want a painkiller too?" At the nod, she gave her friend the painkillers. Gently laying her back down, she watched the other girl's breathing slow down as she fell asleep. "Please stay alive."
 
The evening light filtering through the slits of the borded-up windows caught his eyes as he walked up the stairs, causing him to wince and scrunch up his face. He had slept soundly, still knowing nothing of his intruder, and was making a rare venture upstairs, bag in hand, to make his next delivery before nightfall. He wandered over to what had been his parent’s bedroom, smoothing out the sheets with his hands as he passed the bed, and stalked towards the closet doors. He drew open the doors with a breath and laid eyes on the faithful safe that held his ticket to safety and comfort.


He twisted the dial expertly, barely having to look at the numbers. The door swung open moments later, and he frowned at the contents, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes before taking a second look. He grabbed the notebook that lay on top of the list, scanning his eyes down the inventory list and comparing it to what lay inside. He made a sharp gasp as he totalled up the numbers, and it was true - almost half of his stash was gone. He reached onto the bottom shelf and hurriedly re-counted perhaps the most important medicine in there. There was a look of horror on his face as he realised he could hold the remaining insulin doses – four auto-injecting pens, and eight bottles of the stuff – in just his two hands. “Shit.” He whimpered, scraping around the rest of the safe to check that he hadn’t missed any. “Shit shit shit shit.”


His heart was still racing as he walked down the stairs, the precious load safely tucked into his bag. He chewed his nails anxiously as his mind clouded with fear. 20 doses at the most. That’s less than a week before I run out. The insulin was not for himself, but for his most infamous customer – a vile, aggressive leader of a clan whose little brother happened to be type 1 diabetic. Knowing his parents were doctors, he’d been the first they’d come to when his brother was on the brink of death, and had instantly struck a deal with him to regularly provide the life-saving drug in return for protection and food. Now that it was close to running out, he felt a jolt of fear when he realised he couldn’t live up to his promise, and what they would do to him as a result.


He felt his heart lurch as the violent scratching at the front of the house began, a chorus of the undead outside trying to get in. They did this almost every evening, and he knew this meant he wouldn’t be able to get out until early the next morning. He sighed frustratedly, trying to ignore the pounding on his boarded up windows and walking to the kitchen. As he turned towards the back door, he yelped as he realised it was wide open, and ran over to slam it shut, hastily taking the key and locking it. He knew that he wasn’t foolish enough to leave it open, and he suddenly shook with fear at the thought of an intruder in his home. He took his rifle and carefully paced, checking every corner and crevice, before being satisfied that they were long gone. He gritted his teeth as he prepared another meal (canned sweetcorn), furious that he’d been so easily ransacked. He sat at the chair all night, gun clutched to his chest and staring at the wall, his mind fluttering with emotion; anger, that someone had the nerve to follow him, break into his house and steal his medicine, but also pure fear, that he’d soon be very vulnerable with such a dwindling medicine supply.
 
My name is Autumn and my friend is dying. Her parents had gotten her a journal, knowing her passion for writing. Autumn found no pleasure in what she was currently doing, taking tabs of the medicine she had stolen, all the while keeping an eye on her friend. There was the pounding on the doors, on the boards over the windows, the walls of the house. Goosebumps erupted over her arms, knowing she had narrowly escaped the horde. Doing her best to ignore it, the girl went back to writing, sitting on the floor with the medicines scattered in front of her. Her gun was by her side. Breathing quietly, she started writing, tallying the amounts of medicine she had. Six boxes of painkillers. Three auto-pens. Seven more bottles of insulin. Ten boxes of various antibiotics. Four bottles of cough syrup. Five boxes of various allergy medicines. She could trade for more supplies, she realized. She knew where she could, maybe not the right people, but she knew where to go. Of course, she would save some for herself and her friend, but with the amount of medicine she had, there would be more than enough to spare.


Admittedly, the sight of the medicine made her guilty. It was a human being she had stolen from, not an empty, abandoned house that she had looted. She tried justifying that her friend could die, and that she hadn't stolen it all, and even if it did help, she still felt a little guilty. Tucking away the medicine underneath cushions on the couch and hidden away, she sat on the floor, hand on her gun. She was tired. She had barely slept, staking out at the house or taking care of Alexi. Surely it wouldn't hurt for a little rest, would it? The sun was already going down, and while the zombies were just outside, the boards had held up well, and she hoped they would continue to. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Checking Alexi, who was still fast asleep, once more, she settled into a comfortable position. In the morning she would try to trade the medicines away. "Maybe we could eat good food," she said tiredly, knowing Alexi wouldn't hear her. "Maybe we could even get water." She laughed humorlessly, the sound ringing in the empty room. The brunette closed her eyes, and was soon fast asleep, her hand never leaving her gun.


Sunlight streamed through the tiny gaps in the wood. Autumn opened her eyes, surveying the room. No zombies, no noises - it seemed everything was fine. She changed Alexi's bandages, and checking her temperature, felt her raging fever had gone down. "Good," she murmured. She would give the sick girl more medicine when she came back. The brunette packed two bottles of cough syrup, three boxes of allergy medicine, two boxes of antibiotics and two bottles of insulin in her backpack. If all went well, she would come back with enough food and water to last her a week, at the least. Checking her gun and the amount of ammo she had and feeling satisfied, she headed out, taking a single pack of beef jerky to eat on the way. The outside world was quiet. Making her way into the city, she was careful to watch for zombies, but generally the city was well guarded, especially the convention hall. It was large enough, and most trades were done there. It was where she had acquired her lockpick. When she arrived, she saw it was already pretty busy - or at least, as busy as the small population could be. With a dense population in an area such as a city, it didn't take much for the virus to spread. Even then, however, it was a little surprising to her just how many people were there.


As it turned out, medicine was pretty popular. Autumn kept her goods to herself, listening in on deals, learning the value for the medicine. It would get her a lot of food, she quickly realized. If she was careful, she could even get a promise of protection. Unsure of how to exactly advertise what she had, she stopped at a table and put her backpack on it, rooting out one box of antibiotics and a bottle of insulin. Having not ventured inside the convention hall much, she was unsure of who to go to with what medicines, though she had the right sense to keep an eye on her backpack at all times.
 
He leaned over his own trading table, the rifle strapped to his shoulder not warding off the small crowd that gathered around him. There was nothing on the table – he did that on purpose to keep stray hands from snatching away his important pieces of merchandise. The people had cans of food, bottles of water, batteries, lightbulbs and various other luxuries in their hands, each shouting out their desired drugs in hope that he would ask them to come forward to trade with him. His eyes scanned the crowd, spotting nothing in particular that interested him, and so he simply shook his head to dismiss each one. They paced away, looking dejected, realising that if they’d have to go without their medicine, or dangerously attempt to buy second-hand. He was so popular amongst the trading hall as he’d quickly became known as a Doctor’s son – so they knew his medicine was legit and not just crushed chalk powder.


An olive-skinned man suddenly pushed though the crowd, nodding to the acting-chemist as he did so. “Russell,” he greeted him, dumping a bag of goodies on the table, ignoring the protests of the people shouting behind him. They soon shut up as they recognised the symbol drawn on the back of his shirt, and gave him some clearance, giving him the only fearful respect a violent gang member deserves. Russell himself tried to stay relaxed, hiding his panic with a weak smile and a nod. “H-hey, Devon. Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. Weird horde movements, you know.” He shrugged, burying the truth of his burglary as he slung his own backpack over his shoulder. He pulled out two of the bottles of insulin, the holding the tiny liquid-filled vials between his fingers. “What’s the boss got for me today?”


Devon’s serious facial expression didn’t change, and he pulled out several items from his bag, including a pair of scratched binoculars, sachets of water purifiers, and three boxes of matches, along with a few tins of food and a bundle of clothes. Russell tried to ignore the patches of blood that were spattered on some of the items, inspecting the matches carefully and striking one to check they worked. Russ nodded, sliding the insulin across the table and handing him a wrapped syringe for free. “Send my best to your brother, yes?” He said, looking at Devon with a grin as he took the goods, aware of the jealous eyes from the surrounding crowds as he took the precious items. Devon took the items in a clenched fist, pushing past others in slight irritation as others began to fill the space he’d taken up. Russell was barely able to give a sigh of relief before he began peddling his goods, collecting far more than they were worth from his desperate patrons. When his bag was heavy with food and other items, he slinked away, tugging his rifle over his shoulder protectively as he scanned the tables around him for goods.


As he passed one table, a small bottle caught his eye that made him stop in his tracks. He eyed it curiously, pushing closer towards the girl that was standing behind the table. He stayed far away enough to make sure he didn’t seem too interested, pushing a hand through his dark-blond curls in confusion. He knew that it was highly unlikely that the tiny vial of insulin had been stolen directly from Devon, and he rarely traded insulin with anyone else because of the already limited stock. Perhaps the robber already sold all his good and high-tailed it, he thought grimly. Either way, an extra bottle would buy him precious more time and protection, and he raised his hand in order to catch Autumn’s attention. He took out a litre bottle of water and four tins of food, hoping she was hungry and inexperienced enough to take the meek offer. “That one, please.” He muttered, sliding his hand over the table towards the bottle.
 
So far, Autumn had been merely watching, though she had been successful with a few deals. Mainly people who had wandered over from another, more popular table, she had noticed. She had been able to give away the antibiotics and allergy medicine, and had gained a generous amount of food and a few bottles of water. Mainly, she had been watching the other table, but unable to see who was at it through the crowd, merely dismissed it. It wasn't until one of the gang members had gone through that her interest was truly piqued. She had seen the gang, sure, mostly sneaking past them and staying well out of their way. It was enough that there were walkers about, she didn't need a gang on her tail. She certainly didn't need anyone on her tail, but as she gazed down at the bottle of insulin she had been so carefully guarding, she knew if the medicine worked, it would be worth it. Alexi...





Pulling her journal, she began rewriting the amount of medicine she had, as well as making small notes to herself as to what she could get for each. It wouldn't hurt, she decided. She was busy writing, but she never let the vial, backpack, or gun leave her sight. So far, everything was going smoothly. It was odd to her, how the trades seemed to work. The possession of medicine simultaneously made her a target and someone valuable. Someone could kill her, or steal her goods (oh, the irony, she mused), but they also saw her as someone who might as well been sent from heaven. Either way, the gun stayed at her side. Wrapping her had around the tiny vial, she stared at it. Such a precious little thing she held, even if she had no use for it. Alexi did not, either, as neither of the two girls was diabetic. The thought of Alexi sent a jolt through her. She should probably head home to check on her. She was just about to pack up when a voice startled her. "Hey. I hear you have medicine."


She looked up, seeing a woman standing in front of her. There were bags under her eyes, and wrinkles on her face no woman her age should have. "I do," Autumn replied, seeing a small child hiding behind the woman. He looked barely eight years old. He coughed, the sound making Autumn wince in sympathy. She retrieved the vial of cough syrup.


"Is it legit?" the woman asked, eyes narrowed slightly.


The brunette nodded, handing it to her. "It is. See for yourself." The woman opened it, taking a long look at it, sniffing it and tasting a bit. After a pause, she nodded.


"Thank you," she said softly, already going through her own bag. "What do you want for it?"


Autumn merely smiled. "Just take it." The woman shook her head, taking the teen's hand and placing an item in it before leaving. When she opened her palm, she saw it was a necklace, a small silver hawk pendant with a silver chain. It was beautiful. She slipped it in her pocket, starting to pack up once more and struck with a warm feeling towards the woman and her child.


Another voice caught her attention, and looking up, she was startled to see a boy. More specifically, the boy she had stolen from. Heart skipping a beat, she hid her emotions, and seeing his hand inching towards the insulin, snatched it away. "Ah-ah-ah," she said, narrowing her eyes as she inspected his offering. "Anything else?" She eyed his pack, which was probably bulging with supplies she could only dream of. She felt a little odd, bargaining with the one she had taken from, but she did not let it show, only staring at him as she waited for an answer.
 
Russell squinted at the vial, almost definite that it’d passed through his hands at some point or another, bearing the same label as the one’s from his parents surgery. He rolled his eyes as she snatched it away and asked for more, digging into a side-pocket of his bag for something a little more interesting. He pulled out a respirator mask and a pair of goggles, dumping them on the table. The plastic of the goggles was cracked and the rubber around the mask was old and loose – neither were particularly good at doing their job, but they were interesting enough to attract a passerby viewing their trade.


He tapped Russel’s shoulder and produced a large, mysterious looking bottle of viscous, orange fluid. “From one chemist to another,” the passerby murmured with a grim smile, “Homebrew. The good stuff.” Russell instantly recognised the customer, and smiled back in agreement, digging out a pack of painkillers from his pocket and handing it to him. He knew that the addicted passerby was perhaps his most prominent returning customer, and so treated him with jovial familiarity as he carried on walking, placing the bottle on the table next to Russ as he began to hurriedly dig into his pack of painkillers, swallowing four at the same time.


Russ nodded his altered offer towards Autumn, pushing the bottle of alcohol in with it. It now stood at 1 litre of water, half a litre of homebrew, four cans of food, a respirator and a pair of goggles. It was still a meek offer, and he shot her a desperate look as he leaned slightly further over the table, keeping his voice hushed. “Please, I’m diabetic,” He lied, staring straight into her eyes with his hazel ones, “I need this medicine. And I'm willing to pay for more, if you have any.”
 
Autumn looked mildly more interested, but she was about to hand the vial over when another passerby interrupted. She looked at the bottle that exchanged hands with a spark of curiosity. The fluid was orange, something homemade, no doubt, as it certainly did not look like any kind of drink she had seen before. She patiently waited as they finished their deal, sparing a slight apprehensive glance towards the addict. Glancing at the offer, she sighed and slid the vial over the table to Russell. "Here. You need it more than I do." Really, she just wanted him to go away so she could leave. "I'll have more for you tomorrow if you want." She did not disclose where she had gotten it, though already a lie was forming in her mind. Gathering up the items he had offered, she carefully packed them with the rest, grabbed her gun and left, the backpack slung over her shoulders.


She left the convention hall, skirting around a few gang members who seemed to be scattered around. She did not want to bother one of them, that was for sure. Heading back home, she felt slightly odd. Dismissing it as hunger pains, she headed home, watching carefully for zombies. She was in a hurry, knowing she had left Alexi longer than she normally would have. When she got home, she closed and locked the door behind her when she froze. Something was wrong, very wrong. "Alexi..?" The air reeked of death. "Oh, Alexi, no, no, no no no." Dropping the backpack with a loud thud Autumn rushed into the living room. Her friend was on the floor where she had left her, but Alexi's skin had a grey shade to it. Kneeling down next to her friend, she checked her pulse. Nothing. No heartbeat, no slow breaths, nothing. She was gone. Hot tears spilled down Autumn's cheeks, her body trembling.


"I thought you were getting better," she choked, staring down at the peaceful face of Alexi. "I'm sorry... I'm so so sorry." She cradled her head in her lap, sitting there for hours, just staring. She knew what would come next. She knew what she had to do. She didn't know how long it would take, how much time she had. She just knew when it happened, she had to do it. "I'm so sorry," she repeated. "I'm so sorry." Autumn sat there the whole night, watching. Waiting. When the sun came up, she knew it was time. "Please forgive me." Alexi didn't answer, she couldn't. Autumn swallowed her tears.


A single gunshot rang out.
 
“Thank you,” Russell breathed, snatching the vial and tucking it away in a pocket. At the mention of more, he raised his eyebrows but said nothing, nodding and walking away to become lost in the crowd. He did not take his eyes off her, however, and pushed away more customers as he focused on her with mild curiosity. She slunk away from the convention hall, and he followed her, being sure to stay well back. Eventually he drew out the binoculars he’d traded for, spying on Autumn from a distance as she quickly paced through the city, with him slowly trailing after. He was not the most stealthy or light-footed, and he knew if he was going to steal the remaining insulin supplies she had, he was going to have to use force, not cunning. He gripped the gun hanging over his shoulder, drawing it and loading it with ammo.


For once his focus was not on the environment around him, and he realised this mistake as he walked straight into four large, burly men, each with their own weapons drawn defensively. He cried out in shock and lowered his gun, his eyes travelling over their shoulders and looking at the tiny blob in the distance that was disappearing down an alley. He made a quick-snap decision, tugging the heavy bag off his shoulders and opening it, throwing it to the side as cans of food and bottles of water spilled out. “Please, I just want to pass through,” He murmured to the men, two of which scrambled over to the bag instantly and began digging through it.


“And where does a kid get stuff like this?” One growled, holding up a plastic bag full of batteries. The other two men stood their ground, blocking Russ’ path and making him lose desperate seconds in following the girl. He gritted his teeth in reply, stalking around them in an attempt to push past, “My father gave them to me. I don’t know where he got them from, but I can get you more if you could just let me through.” He lied. At those words, the largest guy, closest to Russell, suddenly grabbed him by the arm and flung him to the floor, ripping the rifle away from his hands. The others gathered around him menacingly.


He pushed the barrel of his gun into Russ’ cheek, a deadly grin carved into his mouth. “And what would your daddy give us if we held his precious boy hostage?” Russell struggled beneath him, turning his head away from the gun and trying to wriggle out of his grip, but the guy grabbed him by the hair and pushed his face into the concrete. “Hmm? Let’s go find him, shall we? I’m sure you’ll fetch us a nice-“


He was interrupted by a skinny girl who suddenly sprung out, her face pained and clothes stained in blood. “Horde!” She yelled, pointing from the direction she came and bolting in the opposite direction. One of the group turned to the block she’d appeared from, and his face turned pale, a look of horror falling upon it. “Shit. C-Cain, we have to get out of here!” The three gathered up as much as they could carry and ran, shouting after him. “Leave the boy, Cain! He’ll slow them down!” With that, the guy nodded, releasing Russell from his grip and bolting after the rest of his gang. Panicked and realising he’d lost Autumn by now, he grabbed his rifle and looked behind him, screaming in terror at the fourty or so undead that were pouring out in his direction. The ones at the front seemed to be almost sprinting towards him, arms outstretched and moaning. He scrambled to his feet, almost crying with fear as he too began to run, firing his rifle in a vain attempt to scare them off.


He had bothered to take no alternate routes to get home, and rushed to open and lock the door as fast as he could as the horde seemed to follow him. The house shook at the force of banging and scratching from the zombies, and Russell hid under the table, panting fast with his rifle clutched to his chest. When he was sure that his boarded up windows and doors would hold, he carefully checked himself for scratches or bites, breathing a sigh of relief as the only injury he’d sustained was a bruise from falling down a ditch. He pressed himself up against the wall for safety, rifle still loaded, and stayed there until the horde had gone away, which wasn’t until the dawn sunlight cast bright rays against the countertop.
 
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Alexi's face was twisted, frozen in a mask of hunger. She had been one of them for mere seconds before Autumn had put her out of misery, the girl still staring down at Alexi, not caring about the pool of crimson that spread like a disease onto her legs. Finally she stood up, a dazed and clouded look on her face as she headed upstairs. Her eyes were red and puffy, tear tracks clear on her face. She grabbed a sheet and a towel, using the towel to wipe the blood off her legs as best she could. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself, knowing that she was on her own. She also knew she had to go back to the convention hall, with the insulin. Taking the sheet back downstairs, she slowly covered Alexi's body. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. With one last look, she threw the sheet over her friend's head. Retrieving her backpack, she unpacked the food, hiding it in various places around the house. She also recovered an auto-pen and a bottle of insulin, before opening a tin of spaghetti and eating. She was lifting up her backpack when the silver necklace fell out of her pocket, so not hesitating, she put it on.


She hadn't heard the dead in a while, so when she opened the door, backpack filled with items to trade and her gun in her hand, the zombies outside startled her. She shrieked, aiming her gun and pulling the trigger, three walkers falling dead, bullets through their brains. Locking the door and sprinting away, she shot several more zombies. It unnerved her, how common they were becoming. With the appearance of more zombies, she knew hordes would be even more deadly. Adjusting the backpack, she hurried to the boarded-up convention hall, where she could feel even a little bit safer. Entering the building, she gazed around to see if she could see the boy, but not seeing him, she went over to her table to see what she could trade for.


A little while later, she had gotten rid of several of her items. The woman from the day before had come, her child nowhere to be seen. "Painkillers?" she asked, holding up several tins of food and two bottles of water. Autumn nodded listlessly, wordlessly sliding the box over and collecting the food and water. The woman seemed concerned, opening her mouth to say something but the brunette just shook her head, and the woman walked away. Placing the items in her backpack, she pulled out her notebook and started writing, jotting down the medicine before turning to a blank page.


My name is Autumn, and Alexi is dead. I killed her. I had to, or she would have turned me. Someone clearing their throat got her attention. "You have medicine? I heard you had some, you and that other kid." She looked up to see a man standing there, a bag at his side and gazing evenly at her.


"Yeah, I do." Her voice was flat, her face expressionless as she unzipped her backpack. "What do you want?"


The man scowled. "Antibiotics, if they're real. Word is that your medicine is, but I want to be sure's not just crushed powder." Something told the teen that that was common, passing off something as medicine when it wasn't. People were probably looking for free food and water. She dug out a box of antibiotics, shaking the box. "They're whole pills. See?"


The man shook some out, squinting at the white pills in his palm. He nodded in approval. "Any chance you have some more?"


"A couple. I'll bring them tomorrow." The man opened his own bag, fishing out tins of food and water, as well as a couple batteries. He placed them on the table, and she put them on her bag. "Tomorrow, then." And he was gone.
 
Russell paced towards the convention hall, a terrible headache racking his head following the loud, traumatic night. He hadn’t had a wink of sleep, and the bags under his eyes spoke volumes of this. He bit his nails, feeling distinctly bare without a backpack or a large gun strapped to him – partly to look less threatening, partly to prevent potential customers from interrupting him as he entered the bustling room. He had a simple, desperate plan, designed to buy himself a couple more weeks of time before his insulin supply ran out.


He kept his eyes low and a hat pulled over his hair, praying that Devon wouldn’t appear until later, after his confrontation with the girl, when he could brightfacedly reassure the menacing thug that he could still come through on his promise. He spied Autumn from the other side of the convention hall and made a beeline for her, putting on a pained expression in an attempt to look desperate. He put his hand on her shoulder, shaking her a little to make sure he had her attention. “H-hey, it’s you again! Thank God. Y-you said you had more insulin, didn’t you? I need it. I’ll take every bit you have.” He hoped that she was foolish enough to bring the whole lot with her, making the whole plan run smoother and erasing the need to find out where she lived – unbeknownst to him that she’d only brought a fraction of what she had to the convention hall that day. He wasn’t keen on the idea of forcing her to show him where she lived and ransacking the place, since she lived in the same district as the men that had threatened him the day previous. That area was pretty much off-limits to him, particularly since it was out of Devon’s protective jurisdiction.


He smiled at her weakly, “You must have a lot of it, right?! I mean, every other diabetic person either died very early on or would’ve been turned by now. I only survived because I’m the doctors son, and we had a large supply, but – but I’m all out of it now. How much did you say you had…?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, mentally working out how much had been stolen from him. Although he somehow doubted she was the thief, he knew it was worth keeping a mental tally of who was selling it, in order to steer Devon away from them as potential business competitors.


Before she replied, he reached into his pocket and took out a set of small keys, holding them out to her so she could see them, but not so she could reach them. “I can make it very worth your while, depending on how much you got.” He murmured, looking into her eyes darkly.
 
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A few more deals passed, her bag growing emptier with medicine and fuller with food and water. Sometimes she got other useful items - like batteries, and once she even got another round for her gun. She passed the time writing in her journal, and occasionally drawing. What Alexi looked like, what her qualities were, how she had saved her life. It made her heart hurt, knowing Alexi was gone, and Autumn was unable to save her. The trip to the doctor's son's house had been useless, and she considered taking what was left of the medicine back to his house (of course, keeping a little bit for herself).


So when Russell appeared from seemingly nowhere, shaking her it made her jump, her eyes widening. It didn't help when she realized who it was. "Oh, yeah, I do. It's just, I didn't bring it all with me." She produced the pen and small vial of insulin, holding them in her fingers. She still had a lot left at her home, and she knew where it all was - she knew where she had hidden everything. While she didn't have the best hiding places for them, as her house was rather small, she wasn't dumb enough to place them in obvious spots. He was speaking quickly, and her brows furrowed together. "I have a good amount," she said, thought frowned when he asked how much she had said she had. "I never did. You... want it all?" That wouldn't be a problem, seeing as how she wasn't diabetic. It made her feel even more guilty, as seeing as he was diabetic, she had stolen his insulin from him. She was unaware of his lies, thinking for all the world he was telling the truth - and unaware of the reason he needed it. "I can bring you it when I come back tomorrow. But I don't have that much." And she would bring it, what was left of it.


The keys caught her eye, and she glanced at them. "Where are they to?" she asked, saying it in a way that meant more, "Is it worth it?" She held the insulin doses close to her, so he couldn't reach them without getting an answer. The brunette stared at him, eyes slightly narrowed, as if challenging him. It was true she felt guilty about stealing his medicine, and true she felt guilty that he was diabetic and she had his insulin, but she wanted a fair trade, even if she would end up giving him the medicine anyway. She wanted to know what he had to offer, as she eyed the keys suspiciously.
 
His eyes narrowed in irritation slightly as she spoke.“Well, why didn’t you bring it all with you today?! You know that I need it, I haven’t got all damn wee-“ He blurted, catching himself before he spoke too hastily. He shook his head, briefly replacing his facial expression with the look of desperation. He quickly thought of a lie to explain why he needed it so soon. “I mean ah- I – I need it today, see. All of it. I need to store it- at my house, otherwise it’ll perish.” He pointed to the vial in her fingers, holding up one of his own from his pocket. “You’re supposed to refrigerate them. Obviously we don’t have power, but I have the next best thing in my cellar. It’s the only place I know where they’ll stay good for months. So I need all that you have, today.” He paused, shooting her a suspicious look. “And if you know anyone else that might have some, I need it from them, too.” He was, of course, referring to the thief, knowing that she must’ve been in direct contact with them.


Soon after speaking, he realised that he hadn’t answered her question, and jingled the keys in his hands, whispering to avoid attracting attention “Oh, right, these. Well, my parents – at our house, we have an old nuclear bunker, see. And I had a lot of medicine left over, and I traded it away – you saw how much stuff I had yesterday. Now I have more food than I know what to do with. And it’s pretty useless to hoard if I’m going to die from hyperglycaemia, isn’t it?” He chuckled nervously, the hand still perched on her shoulder as he tried to make the deal sound inviting. “You can take however much you want from it, enough food and water for months and months. And it’s the good stuff, too – spaghetti and sausages, kidney beans, chicken, chilli… I’ll even help you take it back to your home.” He murmured. He knew the last part was a longshot – but all he really needed to do was get her to follow him to his house, away from the crowd at the trading hall, where he could strike without attracting attention.


He tugged at her shoulder, pushing the deal as he tried to lead her away from the table. “I know it sounds too good to be true, but I’m desperate, alright? I’ll – I’ll show you it first, tell you where it is, then you can decide whether or not you want it. But I guarantee you will.” He nodded to himself, confident that it was an offer that only an idiot would refuse on face value.
 
Her eyes widened out his outburst. "I'm sorry, if I knew you needed it so urgently I would have brought it all-" He cut her off with his explanation. She glanced at the vials in her hand, knowing something was off. "I didn't know they have to be refrigerated," she said slowly. If they had to, then why were they locked in the safe? Of course she did not reveal that information, but she regarded him with suspicion. "I don't know if the person I got it from has anymore than what he gave me." She shrugged nonchalantly, aware his hand was still resting on her shoulder. "He wasn't diabetic, and he wanted to extra gun and ammo I had with me. I had no use of it, so I gave it to him in exchange for the insulin." She lied straight through her teeth, having just thought of it, wishing to avoid his question if anyone else had it. "I think he said something about leaving the city and moving on, too." Maybe it would sound like the imaginary man had left due to fear of being caught, and he would believe her and remove suspicions from herself, if he harbored any.


The offer was tempting; only a fool wouldn't believe so. She snorted a bit - she could carry it herself just fine, she didn't need him finding out where she lived - but otherwise she was very close to taking it. Grabbing her backpack, she slung it over one shoulder, the gun concealed in one of the side pockets. "And I can have as much as I want?" She stuffed her hands in her pockets, her amber eyes gazing evenly into his hazel ones. "Alright. You know what? I'll take it." She removed his hand from her shoulder, slipping the other backpack strap onto her shoulder. "But, I'm going to head home and grab the rest of the insulin that I have and bring it back. You just stay right here. I'll bring it back as soon as I can, and then we can go to your," she lowered her voice, "bunker." The brunette started backing up towards the hall's entrance, where she could head home and get the medicine. "I'll be right back." Turning around, she exited the convention hall, retrieving her gun from the bag pocket and heading out back to her house.


On the way she was forced to shoot at several walkers, and she swore, knowing she would have to reload her gun when she got home. She frowned, knowing home meant Alexi. More specifically, Alexi's body. Biting her lip, she hurried away from the downed walkers, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone or anything that could have heard the gunshots. Her house came into view, and she started towards it when someone grabbed her backpack and pulled her into an alley, a hand clamping over her mouth and the gun yanked from her hand. "Your bag seems pretty full, sweetheart. Whatcha got in here?" She struggled to get away, but her captor only laughed, jabbing her own gun against her side. "Try anything and we leave you for the walkers."
 
“Ach, no, it’s fine, we can – we can go get the insulin after I’ve shown you-“ Russ gritted his teeth as she insisted she got the insulin herself from her house, huffing frustratedly as she paced away, turning back two or three times to make sure he stayed put. He put on a false smile and waved her away from the convention hall, kicking the table as he realised he was going to have to follow her into dangerous territory to get what he needed. He patted his hand over his jacket pocket, letting his fingers gently graze over the syringe of muscle relaxant hidden inside. “At least now I can find out where you live…” he murmured to himself, being careful to duck out of her way as the hall opened up onto the streets and she began to jog towards her house.


The streets they walked through soon got eerily quiet – he wondered if a horde had just passed. His heart lurched in his chest as he heard gunshots, quickly running for cover as he thought he was being fired at. When he finally came out, he was relieved to see three or four walkers laying on the ground, still twitching and with fresh bullet holes in their heads and necks. He stepped over them, keeping an eye on Autumn as she suddenly bolted towards her house. He felt himself trip, crying out as he lost his balance, stumbling over a rather large body that was still writhing in pain. He hastily got up and dusted himself off, but when he looked back in her direction, she had suddenly disappeared, and he groaned loudly. He drew the small pistol that was concealed under his shirt, nervous that she’d heard him and realised he was following her, perhaps concealing herself in a nearby alley.


He pressed himself against the wall and poked his head out into an alleyway, which was empty, and edged forward to the next one, the adrenaline making his fingers tighten around the trigger as he prepared for her popping out at him. He turned his head to look down the darkened streets, and recoiled as he saw someone stood behind her, pressing a gun into her waist and yanking the bag off her back. He stayed put, hidden from their view, his expression pained as he prayed that she wouldn’t resist. He heard the assailant laugh again, and he leaned out and locked eyes with her, drawing his gun up to his chest so she wouldn't see it. "Don't struggle," He mouthed wordlessly to her, shaking his head. He hoped that her bag was all the assailant was after, and that he would leave quickly afterwards so they could finish their deal.
 
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She had stopped struggling as soon as she felt the gun touch her side, helpless unless she wanted to get shot. "Feels pretty heavy, huh? Hope you have something good, girly." It was only moments later that the man had managed to unzip her backpack, whooping with delight at the sight of the treasures stored within. Autumn scanned the alleyway, trying to think of a way to get out of her situation when her gaze met Russell's. Don't struggle. She wasn't. At that exact moment, she didn't care that he had followed her. All she cared about was getting out alive. The gun dug into her side, and her shoulders and arms hurt from the bag being forcefully removed from her back. Once the bag was off, her captor released her, and while he was distracted she yanked the gun from his hand and sprinted away.


It didn't look like he would pursue her, as it was just the bag he was after. At a safe distance away from the alley and closer to her house, she turned to Russell and hissed, "I thought I told you to stay at the convention hall." She didn't want him knowing where she lived - though maybe it was fair, since she knew where he lived. Though honestly, she felt just a little bit better, knowing there was a second person with her, even though he did look unarmed. She did not want to be jumped again, especially without any supplies she could use as a distraction to get away. She sighed, muttering, "Whatever," before turning in the direction her house was and starting over, gun in hand. She wasn't exactly looking forward to going back to her house, not wanting to see Alexi. She noted that she should probably move the body, as soon as she got the deal with Russell over and done with. She wasn't willing to leave the old house as long as it held up.


Digging the key out of her pocket, she entered her house, glancing around. Everything still looked fine. "Close the door behind you." She didn't feel it was necessary to lock it, considering they would only be there for a couple minutes before heading out again, and then she would. She started searching for the insulin, and more ammo, reloading her gun and sticking more rounds into her pocket. She was forced to jam the insulin in her pockets too, without her backpack. She was dismayed when she realized that she wouldn't have a backpack to transport the food and water from Russell's house to her own, and she frowned.
 
Russell chuckled nervously, “Well I – I’ve been scammed before, you know, and I just wanted to make sure you weren’t running off to fetch any gang members or something. Think about it, it’d be easy for you to get some people to follow me and you to the bunker, and then kill me and raid it. N-not that I don’t trust you, but…I just wanted to be sure you were the real deal.” He said. He shoved the small gun he had hastily back under his shirt as her back was turned, frowning at her irritated attitude as he paced behind her. “I get jumped all the time. You should be thankful he only wanted your bag, I’ve seen a lot worse happen to people around here.”


As he pushed the door closed behind him, he squinted, looking around at the small house with distain. “You realise…you could move into a larger house, if you wanted to. More hiding places, more security, more escape routes…” He murmured, watching her as she busied herself, gathering rounds and vials of insulin from various hiding places. He counted the amount as she jammed them in her pockets, narrowing his eyes with virulent suspicion. 3 pens and 7 bottles altogether. She must’ve been the only person the guy traded the insulin with. But why would she trade precious rounds for it, in a neighbourhood like this, if she didn’t need it…?


He made a “tch” sound, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You said the guy who gave it to you left town? That’s a shame. I would’ve liked to know where he got it from. I thought I had the only supply of it around here…” He said, trailing off as he cocked an eyebrow at her. “And you know, some of it was stolen from me a couple of days ago. Similar amount to what you got there, too. Funny, huh?” He murmured softly. Still having no idea that she was the thief, he chewed a nail, muttering as they prepared to leave. “I’d be pretty pissed off if I had to pay to get my stolen goods back. Wouldn’t you? I know it’s just business, but, say, if the guy was still in town, and you were just covering up for him, I could easily add to our little deal, in exchange for his name, and his likeness.” He still felt uneasy, knowing that the thief knew where he lived, and knew the combination for the safe in his parent’s closet. He hoped that Autumn would be able to rat the thief out so he could eliminate the possibility of future attacks. That way, he could live in relative peace, knowing that no-one alive knew where he lived.
 
"Fair enough." His worries were understandable - with someone who had medicine, food, and water, he would be sought after for his supplies, and then disposed of after. She didn't plan on doing that. "Yeah, okay. I know. I should've been more careful." She was, indeed, very lucky; lucky he only wanted her bag, which fortunately was only a small portion of what she now had stored in her house, and lucky there was only one man. Had there been more, her escape would have been more difficult, and ultimately more dangerous. What bothered her was the fact that she hadn't been watching her surroundings, which allowed her to be jumped, and the fact that she was. She had traveled that route many times before, her only problems being the zombies, and the occasional hordes. It was a jolt back to reality that the undead weren't her only enemies.


"I know." Her tone had the trace of a sneer in it - who was he to judge where she lived? It didn't impact him, and it was a relatively safe place, as far as the word safe could be used in their situation. Just because he lived in a huge house didn't mean she had to. Scowling slightly, she mentally counted the amount of insulin she had gotten, nodding to herself when she knew she had gathered it all. She was still pondering about the backpack situation, as she could only carry so much food and water in her pockets, and she was not letting him back in her house, remembering his offer to help her carry it back to her house. As if.


"...Yeah. He did." His questions were making her nervous, but she refused to show it, lest he figured out the thief was her. "Really?" Her voice was slightly higher-pitched, and she coughed, hoping he didn't notice. "Stolen? That's unfortunate. And that's a very strange coincidence, huh?" Her eye twitched when he mentioned covering up for him, when really she was covering up for herself. "Sorry. Like I said, he said he was leaving. He never gave me his name, either. And I don't remember what he looked like, other than the fact he was wearing dark clothes. Come to think of it, that was a couple days ago. Maybe he was the thief?" She fingered the gun she held, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm going to see if I have another backpack upstairs, and then we can go to the bunker of yours." Unbeknownst to her, the bunker was empty, and he was lying to her as much as she was lying to him. Quickly walking out of the room, she headed up the stairs, the wood creaking underneath her. Each step took her further away from him and his questions. Her posture and breathing relaxed as she started looking for a backpack she could use to fill with supplies.
 
Russell waited downstairs, tapping his foot on the wood of the floor as he heard light footsteps search the second floor for a backpack. You won’t need a very big one, he thought with a smirk, pleased with himself that she’d taken his lies so readily. He thought she was just another person desperate to survive on whatever means necessary, with only shreds of luck and quick thinking allowing her to get this far without dying. He was too arrogant to even let the thought of her being the thief cross his mind, until he almost tripped on a long, thick bundle shoved up against the wall.


He tutted at it, nudging it with his toe until it fell over with a dull thud. Behind it, he could see a ring of dried blood both on the wall and the floor, and the back of the white sheet was covered in the red-brown stuff. He winced as he pulled it back, already suspecting what it was but still getting a shock all the same when Alexi’s pale, contorted face stared back at him. He gave a tiny yelp, recoiling as he dusted his hands off on his pants, shaking his head in disgust. Why on Earth would you keep that in the house?! He thought, peering at her pale skin that had developed a familiar twist of grey. It was difficult to tell from her skin alone, but the bullethole in her neck spoke volumes about what’d gone on. He noticed a thin puddle of vomit on the floor, and he cocked an eyebrow as he spotted tiny white capsules here and there, and a couple of discarded boxes of antibiotics laying nearby. Idiot. If they could treat them with over the counter drugs, we wouldn’t be in this mess.


He kicked the sheet back over her face, too disgusted to pick it up with his bare hands. He frowned, leaving bloody footprints as he paced back towards the stairs, frowning as he realised that for an average survivor, she’d had a lot of drugs, counting the insulin, antibiotics, and various others he’d seen her trading with at the hall. Even people who’d been hypochondriacs before the breakout had long since traded away most or all of their pills for food, and yet she still seemed to have plenty left. He could scarcely hear the footsteps above him, and the mere possibility that she was the one that robbed him finally occurred to him. He made a mental note to press her further on what the thief was like later on, realising how edgy she’d been about the subject. He folded his arms and stood at the stairwell, calling up to her, “Hurry up. I haven’t got all day.” He snapped.
 
Once Autumn had calmed herself down, and found a small bag which she supposed would work, she looked for a bit more ammo. She didn't find any, to her disappointment, so she made a note to herself to trade more medicine for it. If she had to, extra food she would get from the bunker would have to do. She was honestly a bit worried to go back downstairs, not wanting to face his numerous questions again, especially if she would be unprepared for them. She paced the hallway, footsteps light on the floor and trying to delay going back down as soon as possible. The sun was still high in the sky, so they still had enough time before the dead came knocking.


When she heard his voice, sounding irritated, she knew she didn't have that much more time. "Just a few more minutes," she shouted, oblivious to the fact that he had discovered her friend's corpse. Taking her gun out, she reloaded it, as well as dropping the insulin doses into her bag and zippering it up. With one more check, she searched the upper level for anything, but finding nothing else, she sighed, knowing she'd have to go back downstairs. Reluctantly, she slowly descended, wiping her face of all emotion. "I suppose you're ready to go," she drawled, the crimson footprints on the floor going unnoticed by her, as she was concentrating on his face rather than his feet. She glanced around the room, still not seeing the footprints, wondering if she had stashed anymore bullets anywhere. She knew where she had food and water, but not weapons. With a frown, she let out an inaudible sigh, knowing that she would have to save her bullets for when she really needed them, and she would have to have good aim.


Glancing at Russell, her brows furrowed when she once again made the observation he was weaponless. Unknown to her, he had a pistol, and a syringe of muscle relaxant. The fact that the bunker was empty did not occur to her, as she had seen the business he had with his medicine, so it made sense he would have tons of food. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "So, where is this bunker of yours?" she asked, pretending that she had no knowledge of the location of his house at all. Her face betrayed no emotion. She slung the bag over her shoulder, the gun tucked into its holster on her thigh. It was in plain sight, but she found herself she didn't care. It was easier for her to access if it was on her thigh, and with the restored ammo, she felt a little better, knowing she had more bullets, even if it was just a few more.
 
“I’m not going to just tell you where it is,” He frowned, yanking open the front door and waiting outside for her to lock it. “I’ll take you there. But you tell no-one of it’s location, we clear?” He paced forward slowly, slightly in front of her as he led the way. The roads looked pretty clear as far as the eye could see, and Russ dug his hands into his pockets, walking in silence for a few minutes as he mulled over his next moves.


He suddenly piped up, eager to find out if his suspicions were correct. “I had a little idea while I was waiting for you to find your backpack, you know. Remember that thief we spoke about?” As he spoke, he turned his head behind him slightly, watching to see if her facial expression changed.


“Well, I know you said he said he was leaving the city, but, I don’t actually think he did.” He faced forward again, gesticulating with his hands in exaggerated motion. “Where would he go? Supplies like food and water are only going to be scarcer in the countryside, and you’d have to be suicidal to head somewhere big like Boston or New York. There’re more zombies than people there now, I hear. In that respect, this place is pretty much the safest place to be. In relative terms, of course.” He shrugged, turning back towards her. He started walking backwards, meeting her eyes suspiciously, looking behind his shoulder every few moments to make sure he didn’t trip.


“Another thing I don’t understand is…why’d he only take my medicine? I mean, I had plenty of food just sitting about, and plenty of other things, batteries, a radio, tools, even a few canisters of premium gasoline. I have a table with just guns and ammo lying on it. But nothing else was taken, aside from the insulin, cough syrup, antihistamines, antibiotics…” He said the last word with a deliberate stress, referring to the empty pillboxes he’d seen stacked against Alexis’ body. He saw her face twitch reflexively, and carried on with a wry smile etched into his face.


“If he just wanted a gun and some ammo for his trip, it’d be stupid for him to go to the trouble of following me home, risk life and limb breaking into my house, and then only take the medicine, when there were plenty of weapons lying around.” He stifled a chuckle, turning back around and scoping out the next corner that tugged at the road in front of them. “Doesn't sound like a smart thing to me. I mean, if you were a thief, wouldn’t you just take what you needed in the first place…?”
 
She rolled her eyes, stepping out of the house, with one last glance at the white in the corner. She eased the door shut, locking it and slipping the key in her pocket. "I know I know. And don't worry, I won't." The roads and streets looked clear, but she was still wary. After the alley incident, she was more aware of her surroundings. She glanced in the alley the man had been, but he was already long gone. Her backpack and supplies, too. With a slight shudder, she continued after Russell.


Autumn frowned when the topic of the thief came up again. Sure, she was expecting it, but she knew she would run out of lies eventually. She hadn't envisioned really coming into contact the person she had stolen from, especially for as long as she was. But she didn't need the insulin anyway, so she could just give it back. "Yeah. What about him?"


She shrugged nonchalantly, but she stiffened slightly. "I don't know. I haven't seen him at the convention hall since." He turned to face her, and she found herself suddenly unable to look him in the eye. "Maybe he had another place to go and was just stopping by?" The mention that the number of zombies unnerved her a bit, as she knew the number of infected would just continue to grow. As far as she knew, scientists were searching for a clue on how to find a cure for the disease. Though she knew - once the zombies had been put down, there was no bringing them back. "He took my gun. Maybe he knows how to hunt. How to start a fire." His questions were irritating her, but deep below it, she was afraid.


She twitched when he mentioned antibiotics. The way he said it, it was almost like he knew. "Yeah? Maybe you should consider yourself lucky that only your medicine was stolen. What kind of idiot leaves all that stuff laying out in the open, huh? I bet your medicine was, too," she snapped. She remembered, though - it wasn't. His house had, for all the world, seemed bare, but she knew better. Though she wouldn't reveal that knowledge, wouldn't. It would be a dead giveaway. "Besides, didn't you say that only a bit of your medicine was stolen? Why should it matter, when you already have more supplies than half the people in the hall combined?" The jab was unnecessary, but she wanted to cover up the fact he had hit a nerve.


"All I know was that he gave me the medicine he had in exchange for half of my ammo and my extra gun. Maybe he had a friend or something he was trying to cure, but had to put them down. He did seem kinda sad when he came to me." She was walking dangerous ground, and she knew it - but having not known Russell had discovered Alexi's body, she figured it was alright. "Maybe he didn't know he would need the ammo or gun at the time he was in stealing your medicine."
 
He snorted, his wry smile turning sour as her words made him wince. “And the reason I have so much stuff is because I’m smart and I’m careful. No-one knows where I live, I’ve made sure of that. I’ve traded carefully, got myself some protection, left a trap for people trying to follow me – and this – this thief, still managed to get through somehow. But if what you say is true, I’m guessing I won’t have anything to worry about.” He shrugged, feeling a hint of pride that by himself he’d managed to evade death for so long.


Russ’ smile soon returned, and he cocked an eyebrow at Autumn’s almost slip of the tongue. “Oh? You think people do that? Try to cure someone who’s been bitten?“ He sneered at her, remembering the body he’d found lying in her living room, frantic scattered boxes of pills around her, trying to reverse the disease without any shred of success.


“So you think he purposely followed me home to specifically steal my medicines, in order to save his friend, but then had to put a bullet in her brain in the end anyway-“ He cut off before he realised what he’d said. Suddenly, the pieces started to click together, and a jolt of realisation hit him as he recounted the words in his head. He stole a look at her, frowning in slight disbelief as he turned the corner. Her? Really? She broke into my house and stole my medicines? She’s the one I have to worry about knowing where I live? Along with slight confusion, he felt a wave of relief come over him as he realised that the thief and the person he’d traded insulin with were one and the same person. He’d be able to sleep soundly tonight, knowing that he had his supply of insulin back (and other medicines, after he’d raided her house), and that no-one alive would know where his house was. He tried to hide a grin, the corners of his mouth twitching as he turned to face her once again.


“T-That sounds a little ridiculous, doesn’t it? Well, if that is what our thief did, he must’ve been pretty desperate, and pretty stupid. Everyone knows you can’t cure it. If anything, antibiotics seem to speed up the process, I’ve heard.” He tried hard not to allude his suspicions, shrugging meekly as they neared Devon’s territory, which they had to pass through to get to his home. “But then, I guess, after his friend kicked the bucket, he must’ve been at a loose end, what with all the medicines he’d stolen lying about the place. I wonder if he’d considered just trading them back to the guy he stole them from, piece by piece…?” He spoke fully in hypotheticals, with no accusatory tone, unsure if Autumn would run or attack him if she clocked he’d worked out who she was.
 
"Well obviously you weren't careful enough." She felt a shred of pride that, despite all his careful measures, she had found his house, sneaked in and successfully stolen his medicines. Though he knew where she lived, and perhaps her best course of action, once this deal was over and done with, was to leave and try to find a new home. "Yeah, I guess not. He's probably long gone by now," she said, waving a hand away from the city. The imaginary man, gone. Though she realized with a start, that he was being oh-so-careful to not have anyone know where he lived - and yet he was leading her right to his house. Her hand started slowly towards her gun.


"Someone might." Her tone was cold, not appreciating his own. Though she knew, deep down, it was hopeless. Over the counter drugs wouldn't have worked to stop the disease, even if she had given them to Alexi as soon as she was bitten. And now Alexi was dead - gone, and couldn't be brought back even if a cure was discovered.


"Maybe-" Her? Autumn narrowed her eyes, though she was walking slower, as if losing the motivation to follow Russell. Had he..? She swallowed nervously, suddenly very wary of the boy in front of her. All the questions he was suddenly asking, the way he looked too happy when he turned back towards her. She put a hand on her gun, comforted by its presence on her thigh. What if he had figured out she was the thief? He had mentioned traps - what if she was walking into one that second? "People do strange things when they have hope," she muttered weakly. Had he found Alexi? Her heartbeat quickened. The insulin in her bag suddenly seemed heavier on her back, as if it was weighing her down as her wariness spiked. She wanted to turn and run away, but she forced herself to keep moving forward, watching him carefully as she followed him.


Her blood ran cold at his words, her amber eyes widening in shock. "They what?" she choked out. He was talking, but she barely understood a shred of what he was talking about. The medicine she had risked everything to obtain had made her dear friend worse? It had made her into one of those things quicker? A lump formed in her throat, and she found it difficult to swallow. Russell's question drew her back to reality, and her sorrow quickly made way to anger. "Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't, instead thinking he was being smart and careful by trading the unneeded medicine away to get supplies he could actually use," she hissed, eyes narrowed dangerously. She pulled the gun from the holster on her thigh, but it was mainly there to be threatening - she knew that, no matter how angry she was, she could never shoot another living, breathing human.
 
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