cricketing

you never even called me by my name

Your gun fires, bullets hitting the infected one after the other until its body slumps, smothering Ellie’s frame.

“Eugh, gross! Get the fuck off’a me!” she pushes out from under the body, wriggling free. Bits of fungus flake off of the clicker’s face, dusting her hair, and with her wild eyes and bared teeth, blood dripping down her torn clothes, she almost looks like a runner. She spits at the body, watching it like she’s waiting for it to move again. To prove it’s not dead.

Fuck, she’s covered in blood. Is it hers or the clicker’s? You take quick stock, eyes running over her, checking for any signs of injury or, god forbid—

Your stomach hits the floor, the air punching from your lungs when you see the tell-tale crescent moon shape of a bite on her hand. Still, despite the world falling away under your feet, you adjust your grip on your weapon, raising it at her. Standard protocol for a bite. You know you have to do it, even if your hands shake.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Joel’s voice is all venom and shadows from several yards behind you. Ellie turns to look at him, but stops dead in her tracks when her eyes land on you. Her hands fly up in panicked surrender, and the bloody bite glistens in the light of your flashlight.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she says at the same time Joel curses, “Shit.”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s seen the bite, too. You hear footsteps racing toward you, heavy boots hitting the ground.

Ellie’s confusion is clear on her face, her hands trembling. “What the fuck is going on with you? Don’t point that fucking thing at me.”

You pull back the hammer, and the click feels like a dagger in your gut. “Your hand, Ellie.”

She frowns, eyes still wide, and twists her hands to look. When she sees it, her panic triples, her words coming out in a flurry of desperate pleas. “No, no, no, wait, hold on, you don’t understand, I swear, it’s okay, I’m okay, I’m not infected!”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Sometimes, it’s clear that even though Ellie grew up in a QZ, she’s no soldier. She’s soft, even when she’s tries to pretend she’s not.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ shoot her,” Joel shouts, his frantic footsteps mere feet behind you.

Joel will forgive you. Or maybe he won’t. The least you can do is take this burden from him. Even if he never fucking talks to you again, you will not make him kill his own daughter. You take one single breath, open your eyes, and pull the trigger.

the ballad of boot hill

This is not a place of honor.

For some reason, when you see the blood bloom across Ellie’s stomach, those words are the only ones you can recall. The words of a long-forgotten warning, a threat written in the clearest language possible. The height of humanity’s hubris.

No highly esteemed deed is commemorated here.

Joel shoves past you, screaming something that you think is Ellie’s name. Your ears ring, blood pounding, hands shaking as the gun clatters to the ground. Ellie is still standing, but like you, she’s swaying, as though she’s losing the ability to hold herself up. Her hands fall to her stomach, her blood mixing with the contaminated bite, speeding up the inevitable infection. Her eyes meet yours, and all you read in them is surprise. Not pain, not betrayal. Just innocent surprise. Joel stumbles to her side just as she collapses, his arms outstretched as he catches her and gently lifts her up.

Nothing valued is here.

“It’s okay, babygirl, I got you. I got you. It’s okay.”

Ellie whimpers, wide eyes locked on Joel. Her face is pale, and you’re not sure if it’s from blood loss or shock. Blood drips from her torso to the floor as Joel stands, Ellie cradled in his arms.

“Joel,” you whisper, half in shock yourself.

“Move.”

You don’t. You can’t. Your feet are glued to the floor, horror racing through you in time with your rapid pulse. Ellie, sweet, funny, infected Ellie, looks so small in Joel’s arms.

The danger is to the body, and it can kill.

Your hands flex of their own accord, searching for another trigger to pull.

“I suggest you get the fuck out of my way.” Joel’s voice is lethally calm and he cradles his daughter.

“Joel,” you try again. “I’m sorry, I—”

“I said, move.”

He doesn’t wait for you to obey. Instead, he marches forward, shouldering past you. The contact is enough to pull you back to reality and you act, letting your training take over. Whipping your hand back, you snag into the crook of his arm, swinging him around to face you. His face is terrifyingly blank, and you know there’s a good chance you won’t live to see tomorrow. At least you can save Jackson from its very own outbreak day.

“She’s infected.” You don’t let yourself look at Ellie’s face, at the blood seeping between her fingers. You can’t. You should’ve aimed for her head. Spared her the pain. “Her hand. Clicker fuckin’ bit her.”

Joel takes one step toward you, his frame towering over yours. You fight the urge to shrink back, to hide. “The only reason you’re still alive,” he grinds out, tone sharp and unyielding, “is because we have a very long ride back to Jackson, and I need someone watching our backs while I’m taking care of her.”

As if to emphasize his point, Ellie lets out a little moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you take an infected into Jackson.” Can you get your gun fast enough to put Ellie out of her misery?

“’m not infected,” Ellie mumbles.

You ignore her.

“You’re gonna do exactly as I say,” Joel eyes darken, jaw set.

“And if I don’t?” You bend your knees, fists balling at your sides. “What if I refuse to go with you? To be a part of this?”

“I will hunt you down. And I will kill you. Slowly.”

His eyes… you don’t doubt he means every word of what he’s saying. You shudder. He’s a madman—a madman about to lose his daughter. To infection, to blood loss, to… well, normal, non-fungus infection. One hundred percent transmission by bite. One hundred percent. If Ellie doesn’t bleed out, she’ll turn. She’s as good as dead already, and Joel is in complete denial. But if he leaves you here, you’re completely fucked.

Worse, if he makes it back to Jackson with Ellie… she’d slaughter everyone. If she turns before then, he’ll have to do the unthinkable. Despite everything, you can’t let him do that. You can’t ask him to kill Ellie. The only option remaining… You. You’ll do the dirty work. You’ll do it for your friend. You’ll do it for the little girl you’d come to love. You’ll put her out of the misery of an infected existence for him. When she turns, you’ll turn into a monster, too. As if you aren’t one already.