with a knife that sharp

The light that seeped through the smudgy window was cool and soft. The room was still dim, but Oona could see Lydia where she'd fallen asleep beside her, curled up with her stuffed rabbit. What she didn't see, immediately, were her boots.

She'd taken them off and left them in the corner by the door of the bedroom they claimed; from where she lay, Oona squinted through the faint light and noticed they were gone. But when she quietly sat up, head foggy and eyes heavy, she saw them knocked over—just barely hidden by the adjacent bookcase along the wall.

The floorboards creaked quietly as she moved to stand, and Oona's gaze momentarily fell on Beck on the bed placed beside theirs. The bedroom looked like it had belonged to siblings once upon a time. Two little boys, maybe, if the model cars and baseball cards indicated anything.

This time they lay still, listening to the silence and trying to will themselves back to sleep. Hearing movement beside them, their head turned in Oona and Lydia's direction. Lydia slept still – frankly unsurprising, Lydia had been able to run around and play like she probably hadn't been able to in a while. But Oona was awake, moving to stand. They weren't going to say anything, but then their eyes locked and she spoke. They lifted themselves up onto their elbows and shook their head. " No, no, I was awake already. " They assured, matching Oona's whispers as to not disturb the third member of their trio. " Everything okay? "

Whit sniffed, his eyes scanning the lobby as he thought. This wasn't a breachers up! situation by any means, and ammo was too precious to waste on a ballistic approach anyway. His shoddy, improvised flashbangs were a hazard he wasn't willing to wager either, and explosives were obviously a no-go. Which meant the old tried and true, the classic first choice: mechanical. They'd need a battering ram. There was an old fire extinguisher inside the kitchenette, he recalled. Whit lightly knocked his elbow against Beck's arm and said, "Hold on." And he set off.

Upon return, Whit was met with a raised brow from Beck. But that did not stop them from lowering weapon, quickly moving their head through strap song it hung across their back, freeing up their hands to take the fire hydrant – though still unclear what its purpose was.

They didn't have to wait much longer for an explanation, nodding their head as they took on the information they were given. Later they might wonder why he'd handed it to them at all, seeing as he clearly knew what he was talking about. Was it because of what they said? The backseat driver comment? No matter, in the moment they simply nodded and prepared to do what they were told. With fire hydrant in hand, they stepped towards the door, braving their feet as they were told. Before lining up their shot they looked back at him, " You got my cover? " They asked, in place of asking if he was ready rather than genuinely checking if he had their back. If the sweep of the first floor had proven anything, he definitely did.

Once confirmed, they took a small breath, lined up their movement and struck. They felt the shock radiate up their arms to their shoulders and chest, but they did not hesitate to strike again. After the silent movement, the noise of fire hydrant against the bolted door was echoing and shuddering. But they pushed through. The second strike they thought they felt movement, and so they struck again quickly. The door swinging back shocked them, banging against the wall behind, the sound echoing not only though the level they were on, but the one now accessible below.

With her words, Beck falls silent. They weren't so naive to think a cure would fix the world. When the world fell apart they were a teenager that was struggling to find themselves. A struggle born of the state of the world when it was, in retrospect, functioning. But equally they didn't think they could change Harper's mind in a single conversation. It had taken years for Beck, and the work hadn't been all their own, and even still their conviction faltered frequently. " I don't know. I think the privilege of choice is really important. " None of them in this group had a real choice right now. It was either stay with the group, help the cure. Or accept your life as it is. For Beck, if they were to not believe in the cure at this point, they might as well accept their death now. " People should get to live even if they aren't made for this sort of shit. " They nodded towards their gun and pack, leaned up against the porch railing. They knew plenty of people that didn't make it, they knew plenty of people that they didn't think would have made it - and they missed them. They missed the light of people's softness. They shook their head a little, the conversation was a little too heavy. They were celebrating the potential of a safe night of rest, a wealth restock of supplies. " Besides, I don't think anyone's gonna be rushing to put you in a 9 to 5. " They joked, corner of their lips lifting with it.

When Harper pointed out what they were doing with their words, what they were trying to do, they felt backed into a corner in a sense. They knew what they wanted was ridiculous. They knew that. But they couldn't help it, and this trail was their best hope. They also knew it was selfish. Deeply, deeply selfish. " Maybe its both. " They said, looking down at the bottle in their hands. Suddenly regretting the last sip and letting the glass rest against their leg. " Yeah. " They don't add more than that. They don't really want to. They remind themselves that many people didn't have the luxury of having hope that their family was alive. " You ever been? "

Entering the lobby, there were immediate doors to their left and right. When Beck went right, he posted by the door until they switched roles, and it was his turn to sweep the room on the left. It seemed like a small multipurpose room. A couple of folding tables, a dozen stackable chairs. A wall-mounted whiteboard showed an unfinished, faded game of Hangman. The stick figure was one leg short of death. He itched to fill in those blank spaces, but continued on. Room by room, they went. There was a small kitchen, bathrooms, a storage room, and a gymnasium.

There were no Hallows, not many signs of life that technically couldn't be found at any other abandoned building across the country. But there was this creeping stillness, like a held breath; a half-finished scarf hung from an abandoned pair of knitting needles, a basketball left idle in the corner of the gym's glossy floors, a coffee stain on the laminate top of a desk. He stayed on edge, no matter how many C's he wrote in chalk. He kept an eye out for any more cameras.

Whit exited a narrow storage closet off an art room, filled mainly with dried-up glue sticks and child-safe scissors, and marked the door. "We're clear in here," he reported to Beck, who still stood guard by the exit leading back out into the hall. "Somebody's gonna have one hell of a time with all those pipe cleaners." There was a shit-load of them. One of his nieces always liked to make little creatures with those things—weird-looking starfish and lizards. Whit once had one hanging from his rearview mirror.

Whit's voice drew their attention and they looked back towards him. Another all clear. What the fuck happened here? They tried not to linger on it and instead made a mental note with what he said. They'd come back and check out the supply closet. Oona and Lydia liked to do little crafts together, maybe they could find something small to get to them. They didn't clock the instruction immediately, hearing it more as suggestion than anything else. And maybe it was meant that way, but the way he held up a hand following it made them purse their lips slightly as to hide a smile that threatened to show. " Good idea, Thunder, " They said, using the nickname again as they, in good nature, framed it as though he'd been asking for their approval. " Once that's clear we can start supplies down there and before coming back up. " They said as they started to move back into the hallway.

Maximum view, minimum exposure. Whit nodded once, decisively, at the words; a ghost of a pleased smile passed over his face. Maybe there was some hope for the youth, he mused distantly, and then felt a whole fucking lot like his dad. When did he get so goddamn old? "Clear it first," Whit confirmed. "No Hallows up our ass." Threat assessment and safety almost always came before loot, in his books. He nodded for them to step ahead of him as they got closer to the door. "You wanna be my point man, kid?" He tapped at the red cross badge stitched into the strap of his bag with his open palm, a quirk to his brow as he lined up against the wall. "Medics take the rear."

It was true that medics took the back, but he also wanted to observe how Beck operated. Though they were traveling together, Whit hadn't pieced together much information on their personal TTPs yet. Hunters had the patience, stealth, and survival skills, but by and large lacked well-oiled team tactics or rapid-fire response. But they'd all adapted to their situation. He couldn't cook for shit before the world fell apart, for one, but look at him now—he could whip up a pretty kickass squirrel stew. Whit drew his weapon, jutting his chin out to signal them to open the door.

They nodded, clearing it first sounded mighty fine by them. As they moved closer to the door they silently did their checks. Jacket had been left with Oona and Lydia as they'd moved with the front group entering the town, so no need to check it was done up to avoid getting caught on anything. Laces on their boots were tied tightly, no openly exposed skin between boots and jeans. Hunting knife tucked into a holster on their belt. The final move was to pull rifle from their back, keeping the short barrel pointed down and their finger off the trigger.

He pointed toward an old security camera at the northeast corner of the building, then shot Beck a dry look. "I'm not too worried someone's watching us," he continued, "but if they've got hot water around here, then selective use of electricity isn't a complete impossibility." Unless their water heaters were older with standing pilots, but that would give them a lifespan of maybe 5 years at most without any sort of intervention and maintenance, and that was really pushing it. They'd have to keep their eye out for generators and solar panels.

"Take this," he said, handing over one of the pieces of chalk. "You're with me." They'd cover ground faster that way, and their company was an additional plus now that he remembered Beck had a half-decent shot. "We'll mark the rooms as we clear 'em." Whit moved to approach the entrance. "You ever heard of 'slicing the pie'?"

They reached out to accept the chalk, using forefinger to hold it against their palm. Easily they accepted instructions as they were given. They were never much of a leader, they far preferred it this way. Being told a plan, being trusted to execute it. " Maximum view, minimum exposure. " They said to confirm they'd heard of slicing the pie. Only they thought it was a strange American saying, not how the tactical move was referred to in general. Someone had taught them on the way down to Alabama, when the wide open spaces of the ranch where they'd learned to shoot were behind them. " Supplies while we go or clear it first? " They asked, adjusting their shoulder under the strap of their weapon. Usually that sort of question would be easy to judge, even with a building this size, if there was chance of being overrun or having to move on quickly, supplies as you go. If the concern was something or someone hiding and waiting on you to drop your guard, then clear it first.

he wasn't sure if he should admit that last night was the best night's sleep he's gotten in months- no probably years. this place still seemed so strange, but between the wine and the actual beds and the warm shower he was able to take, luke felt about million times better than he has in awhile. he knew this wouldn't last forever, either the group would move on or he would alone. they all had an end goal in this journey. after a delicious breakfast of canned beans, luke dressed for the day and laced up his boots to switch out for look out duty.

along his way, he ran into beck, their kind smile always welcome even if he couldn't help his eyes lingering on their scars for a second too long to be polite. "good morning," he greeted softly, "anything happen in the night?" there was a tugging at the back of his mind that this place was not right. the could dress it up as a blessing, but there had to be a reason why the people who lived here had left.

They shook their head. " No, still nothing. " They tried to make that sound a good thing, like they were relieved, but like everyone else it was hard to feel comforted without answers. " Mind if I come with you? " They ask after a beat, referring to wherever the look outs had set up their posts. They'd managed to get out of it night one, but they'd stick their hand up pretty quick now they'd slept. " Tryna get a lay of the land, y'know, "

Well-worn boots stepped carefully, wary for anything that might creak or groan with his weight on it as he made his way through the house. There was a suspicious lack of disarray that had him holding his guard up high. Every corner he turned, closet or room he checked, nothing but dust-covered furniture and belongings.

"Room's over on my end are clear," Ian reported quietly as he returned to Beck's side in one of the hallways. "No dead. No Hallow. Hell, beds are even made."

That last detail made his head shake slightly — disbelief.

With each room the group checked, each house they cleared for occupancy, Ian couldn't help but feel more and more bothered by the absence of chaos in their wake. His grip flexed around the firearm in his hands, mindful to hold it aiming downward and keep his finger off the trigger.

"What the hell happened here?" He couldn't help but mutter.

" Same this side. " Beck replied as Ian returned to the hallway. They kept looking around, listening intently, as though waiting for something to reveal itself. A hidden thing that would make it make sense. People, hallowed, animals – they had no clue. After so many years of chaos it was totally unnerving to find a place seemingly untouched without rhyme or reason.

"in the deep hills of eastern kentucky, that's the place where i traced my bloodline, and it's there i read on a hillside gravestone you'll never leave harlan alive..."

lenora mae's fingers gently pressed down on the ivory keys of the old piano she'd found in the living room of one of the homes, the warm-sounding chords causing her stomach to tie in knots. she hadn't heard a piano since she'd left home years ago. the nostalgia was sweet but sickening.

"oh my grandfather's dad crossed the cumberland mountains where he took a pretty girl to be his bride. said won't you walk with me, out of the mouth of this holler or we'll never leave harlan alive..."

she'd seen a figure moving around the house through the side window, heard the squeak of the door hinges, and had beck not made themself known right away she would've stopped what she was doing to grab the knife strapped to her thigh. but they did, so she kept going.

"where the sun comes up about ten in the morning, and the sun goes down about three in the day, and you fill your cup with whatever bitter brew you're drinkin' and you spend your life just thinkin' of how to get away..."

she let the final notes of the chorus ring out, the keys remaining pressed down until the sound stopped entirely, and then she shifted on the old cherry oak bench until she was facing her audience of one.

"any luck finding a guitar?"

It was no mystery who would be on the other side of the song, Lenora Mae had a call to music like no other. Beck could play a pretty tune, but the way Nora kept and told stories with music was something they admired. They approached carefully, balancing making themselves known and attempting not to disturb her. Placing backpack down, and leaning against a doorway, they listened blissfully, not saying a word until it was clear she was finished. And even then they shook their head before they spoke their answer. " Not yet, but I'm still holding out hope. " They assured with lightness in their voice. With everything else this place seemed to have, they were sure they'd find a guitar before the sun set. " Is there any instrument you don't play? "

Beck easily fell into silence while Harper spoke, nursing the beer they'd been handed. Cool glass soothing against their calloused hands, comforting in a way where Harper's story was not especially comforting. It was a sweet story. Beck's parents were much the same way, especially after their dad remarried. An attempt to keep things fair between Beck and Laura, give them no additional reason to fight in those early years. But Harper's take away was honestly a little surprising to them. Not that as a child she'd wished she never got what she wanted, but that the lesson to be learned was to never want at all. " Kinda harsh on yourself, " They said, having at some point shifted a little so they were more facing her. An elbow resting against the back of the chair. " You know that? " She must, right?

" 'Course, " They answer, but there's more to come. Of course, they had thought about what they'd do, where they'd go. Only there was no way of really formulating any solid plan until they got through this. The cure. " Some people are just in it for the destination, so they'll probably leave pretty early on, " A couple came to mind. They knew Oona was hoping to reconnect with family members, for Lydia to be able to meet them. Luke hadn't said as much but anyone could guess he'd go south for similar reasons. But what would Beck do? " I imagine I'll probably stick around, see the cure through. Then, " They hesitated briefly, looking down at the bottle in their hands, picking at the label even if it's flakiness was completely unsatisfying. They took a small breath and continued, " Then see if any resources can be put towards international communication, spread the cure further. " They tried to make it sound more noble than it was. They did want what they said, but they wanted to know if their family survived more. They didn't let that sit long enough to settle, instead speaking again quickly as they looked to her again. " What about you? "

It'd been a long while since Whit was at ease. He knew the idiom was to never look a gift horse in the mouth, but hell if he wasn't diving down the goddamn gullet of this one. He was on guard regardless of the shape of a new area, but the corner of the town he traversed looked just a little too neat — like something out of a '50s sitcom. Even if it didn't appear as though the population had gotten itself raptured, the neat, cookie-cutter houses would've still set his teeth on edge. "Leave it to fuckin' Beaver," he mumbled under his breath, eyeing the building in front of him.

Movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and he reached for the gun at his side. He only stopped short when his eyes met those of one of the hunters. Redhead. The mnemonic popped into his head: Blazes Ember, Chases Kill. Beck. Blazing red Beck with a bow, he repeated in his head. "Next time you're coming around a corner behind my back, kid, say Flash. I'll say Thunder." It was an old challenge-response from years ago. "Same goes the other way around." He pulled his hand away from his weapon. "It'll save us a few grey hairs." With the same hand, Whit reached for one of the nubs of chalk he carried around. "What do you say?"

They didn't mean to sneak up on him. They could walk softly in a forest, a clean street with even tarmac road had them practically silent by default. Their lips had parted to greet the lone medic, but he beat them to it. A small quirk of their brow came as their initial response, but quickly it relaxed again and they nodded. " Flash and thunder, got it. " They repeated back to him, as they moved in. " Sorry. I'd wear a bell but, y'know, " They added on lightly, finishing sentence with a quick tilt of their head. Looking back to the building they listened for a moment before they looked back to Whit and asked, " Any noise from inside? "

it should be sad that they were both excited over some cans of expired food but that was about the best thing they could have found. "god i miss real food, but that is actually mouth watering." at least they wouldn't have to worry about hunting for a little while. which she supposed meant beck and the others could take a break for a bit. looking over her shoulder for a second, she considers it. she hadn't gone into any of the houses yet, only a few of the small stores around. "yeah, that would be nice, thanks," she says with a smile.

" I gotcha, " They assured, adjusting their pack a final time and giving a small nod down the road before they moved in the direction indicated. They allowed a steady silence to fall, always their way, they were happy to move in the quiet. Their eyes scanned as they moved, more out of habit than anything else. It didn't take long to find the garage they spoke of. Slowing their pace they pointed to the two bikes leaning up against the front of the house. Beck would call them outback bikes, but they were probably better known as mountain bikes. " See, adventurous, "

Her reaction to their words told them immediately they had been worth saying, small smile tugging at the corners of their lips as they easily allowed themselves to lean back from the nudge. When she said they were trapped too, they thought immediately that there were worse places to be trapped. Especially as Harper continued, painting a picture of a truly idealistic life. A soft chuckle coming to their lips when that life somehow included Beck plucking away at a guitar. Though their vision lingered on the grass. Cut short. Weird. They focused instead on what Harper said next. " Wanting for stuff isn't a bad thing. " They said, sympathetic. " Gotta want, to be grateful, I think. " Whether or not their words were reassuring, they didn't know, but maybe the words at least said that Beck wasn't going to hold Harper's daydream against her the next time there was a bad day. " Besides, this many houses, " They nodded out towards the streets their group now occupied, " I reckon there's a grill in at least one of them. " They smiled something genuine.

When she moved, Beck instinctively sat up straighter. Though they didn't make it all the way to their feet. Simply perched on the seating, neck craning to watch as she walked, limped, off without a word. They listened to her movements when they could no longer see her, just to know that they hadn't been left alone. So her returned was expected, but they still didn't know what she'd left for. But that question was swiftly answered. " Pretty sure the last remaining carbonation died, like, years ago. " They mused with a smile as they accepted the bottle offered to them.

The taste made them cringe, but they drank all the same. A reasonable first sip from the bottle. At some point they'd decided they wouldn't drink to cope. They didn't remember what exactly had made them make that decision, but they'd witnessed reason to keep it up many times over the year. Not with judgement, more like empathy. But, today was good. There was plenty of resources, they were able to clean up, and they could rest for the night. That could be a celebration, a small one. They had two answers to Harper's question that sprang to mind. The first, a secret they didn't really intend to speak on. The second, a truly desperate want they had. A hope. " What d'ya mean? " They ask, looking to her as they took another sip from the bottle. " Like to the group? "

Their brow raised at his question, amused immediately. " Oh, I'm the cool kid? " They asked, a jest more than a genuine question. " Shit, the pressure, " They sucked in a breath as they stood a little straighter for a moment, grin lingering on their lips. Truthfully, they didn't know. They were never cool kid, but they suspected Diego never was either. " How about this, do you have a weird, off, spidey-sense feeling about this place too, or is that just me? " They asked, a natural lightness staying in their voice despite the nature of their question. They'd been trying to avoid voicing that caution they felt out loud, they didn't want to start anything if it was just paranoia from the state of the world. But they trusted his input, his thoughts on it. If he said he didn't think there was anything to it, they'd be like to believe it.

" Hey, " They returned her greeting with a small smile, quick to take up the space offered to them. Her compliment, or observation more accurately, caused them to glance down at themselves briefly. Weird thing about the apocalypse was looks very rarely being on their mind. " Freckles, not dirt, who would'a thought? " They said, waving off self consciousness that threatened the edge of their mind with a light joke. " You don't pull up half bad yourself. " They returned, but their words certainly were a compliment. Even a smidge of peacefulness was nice to see on Harper. She certainly earned it.

They nodded in understanding that a comfortable chair had captured her. It's not like Beck had been up to much productive anyway. They'd raided a couple houses, showered, and spent a solid amount of time with Lydia on a tyre swing that had held up over the years. " Totally get it, this is nice, " They mused, leaning back a little, looking out to the street. For a moment they wonder if the previous occupants would have sat on their porch like this. But they pull their mind from it before it can get depressing, looking to Harper once more. They nodded again, this time in agreement though they didn't rush to stand. Harper didn't appear to be hurrying to find the ammo she spoke of, so neither did Beck. Just enjoying the calm moment while it lasted.

Having dressed again, they descended the stairs. Slightly cautious as they went, having thought they heard a little movement at some point while raiding a closet for a fresh t-shirt. But the caution faded when their eyes landed on Esme on the couch. " Hey, " They greeted in reply, but before they could ask what she was up to or how long she'd been there, she had a question for them. " A couple, yeah, " Between family game nights trying to make Laura and Beck bond as preteens and years of Scout camps, they probably knew more than a couple. But how many they'd remember how to play would be something entirely different. " Blackjack, Speed, Go Fish... " They listed the last one in jest, a small chuckle to accompany it. " Where'd you find them? "