#2003!joel

Had life been any different, Joel would probably not be in this position.

He had lost everything he held dear. His very reason for living. He could not wrap his head around the fact that Sarah was gone. Truly gone. He could still feel the mud under his fingernails ― his vain attempt to undo the work Tommy had put into digging Sarah’s grave.

It still felt unreal. His baby girl was six feet under, just a few yards away from him. But in his mind, he was still hugging her closely against his chest, feeling her warmth. Tommy had tried to console him, but there were no words in any human language that could sooth his broken heart, so his brother left to run the perimeter and give him some space.

The last few days were like a whirlpool of pain and tears ― agony filling up his lungs, constricting his throat. Joel could not remember the last time he had cried, but he had done so many times in the last seventy-two hours. He could not contain his own emotion any longer. Such torment was too overwhelming. A father was not supposed to bury his own daughter.

It was thanks to his brother that he had been able to put his Sarah to rest. After hell broke loose in Austin and that damn official had shot at them, Joel could not bring himself to recall what had happened afterwards. From what Tommy had told him, they ran for as long as they could ― Joel still holding onto Sarah’s lifeless body. His brother was able to secure a vehicle and they drove out of the city to avoid any more unwanted encounters.

That was how they got to Sam Houston National Forest. Under normal circumstances, they would have gotten there in under three hours, but it took them almost three days. Sarah loved that nature reserve. They would vacation nearby in the summertime when Joel’s schedule was clear of contracting jobs. Sarah, always full of life, would push her dad down the hiking trail, giggling, teasing him and his old knees.

Paralysed by fear, pain and guilt, Joel had only been able to watch as Tommy put a shovel to the ground and started digging. He only snapped out of his stupor when his brother murmured something as he kneeled before him to take Sarah away from his arms. Joel could not comprehend what Tommy was doing until the younger Miller put Sarah in the hole. That was when he had completely lost it.

It had been hours and Joel had not moved yet. His back against a pine tree, hands on his lap. His eyes fixated on his daughter’s tomb. Tommy had fashioned a cross with wood branches to mark the grave, wildflowers surrounding it despite being September. The contrast between the blooming wildlife and Sarah’s burial pit was gut-wrenching. So much that Joel had to close his eyes to stop them from watering once more.

Tommy had assured him this dreadful feeling would lessen with time ― maybe even go away. Joel had just looked at him blankly in disbelief. He very much doubted it. There was no way he could feel his heart beating again when it had been ripped out of his chest. Emptiness eating him up, nothingness taking over his soul, dread engulfing his senses. There was no coming back from this.

Truthfully, he could not see the point anymore. The world was ending anyway, why postpone the inevitable? Joel was sure that he would only burden Tommy ― in this state of mind, he was not going to be able to protect anyone, let alone his brother. In fact, he would just guide him to his death, the same way he had led Sarah to hers.

Joel opened his eyes and looked down. Tommy had left a gun on the ground to his right while he patrolled the surrounding area, in case he was interrupted and in need of protecting himself. What he was thinking about doing could be considered as “protecting himself” ― from his own thoughts, his own breathtaking pain.

His right hand wrapped around the grip of the gun while his index finger slid towards the trigger. As Joel put the gun to his right temple, his eyes locked on the makeshift wooden cross. He hoped he could be reunited with Sarah in Heaven, God knew he had tried his best in this life and had still failed. It was not enough. He was not enough.

Joel took a deep breath, eyes closed, and pulled the trigger.

Houston was in shambles. You just barely escaped that godforsaken city and made it to the closest nature reserve you could think of. It was the best idea, you thought, as people would be scarce in the midst of nature. So, you walked and walked, until you came across two men who had set up camp off the main trail. You kept to the shadows, not knowing if you should trust them or not.

The youngest one left a few minutes after your arrival, so you adjusted your position in order to not be seen. From there, you could have a better look at the older guy, who seemed rather defeated, sat on the ground, his back resting against a tree. His eyes bare, his face completely blank. You assumed his crushed expression was because of the events of the last few days.

Or, at least, that was what you thought until you spotted the improvised grave in front of him.

Tears welled up, gathering at the rims of your eyelids. You knew that feeling damn too well. Not only the outbreak, but life had also taken some very important people from you. The feeling of loss ― you perfectly understood how hard it could hit.

But you could not reminisce about old times, not now, when your own life was hanging by a thread. You were alone in this world, and you knew how fucking dangerous that would be for a woman. Human nature scared you more than some goddamn virus.

So you were lingering. You saw those two men, and you pondered your options. Something was telling you that you could trust them ― if you could trust anyone while the world was ending.

You came closer, making sure you did not make a noise. That was when you saw the raw emotion painted on his worn-out face. There was something about him that drew you in. His gloomy look spoke of hurt, but also danger.

And then you also saw his hand holding a gun to his temple.

You just acted ― without any concern for your own safety.

“NO!”, a painful shriek left your mouth as you ran towards him, your knees skidding through the dirt as you stopped by his side.

You wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, trying to pull the gun away from him, when the shot went off with a loud bang. It grazed the skin on his temple and blood started to pool on the fresh wound.

“Oh, shit”, you said breathlessly, pressing the palm of your hand against the gash to stop the bleeding.

His brown eyes focused on you, a mixture of shock and disappointment.

After what felt like an eternity losing yourself in those irises, he mumbled:

“Why?”

You tried to talk, but the words would not leave your tongue.

“I…”, you started to explain yourself, but was quickly interrupted.

“What the heck was that?!”

You looked up and spotted the second man, the one you saw walking away a few minutes earlier, running towards you ― rifle on hand, pointing at you.

Blood rushed out of your face. Was that how you were going to die after all?