Who We Were (Abby Anderson x FemOC)

Chapter 1: Chasing a Rumor

Authors note:

It is 8/14/23 and I am updating all parts AND adding a new chapter. I've spent some time redoing some of the older stuff because I thought it was cheesy or dramatic, but I'm going to update more frequently now (I hope!) Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

"Jesus," Jess exhaled, panting and wiping her blade on a tree trunk. It cleared most of the blood and she returned it and her pistol to their respective sheaths on her thighs. She stood still for a moment, listening. "I think that's all of them. You good?" She glanced over at Ethan, who was also panting, leaning against a tree, and wiping his dagger clean in the grass. He glanced up at her, his slightly-too-long, curly brown hair obscuring one eye.

"Yeah... Is that a bite?" he asked, nodding towards her hand.

"Ha-ha, you're hilarious," she said sarcastically, not even bothering to glance. It'd been several years since he'd gotten the better of her with that attempt at a joke.

"Can't resist," he smirked, grabbing his pack off the ground, and heading toward her, stepping over one of the infected they had just killed, the spilled blood squishing in the dirt.

"There are way too many out here. No way we're as close as we think we are," she said, surveying the area.

"Will you relax?" he said, exasperated. "They migrate." He waved his arm around at the four bodies littering the grass to indicate their prior path of migration. When Jess didn't speak, he continued. "I planned this route. I know where we are."

"Oh, fuck off. I'm not talking about the infected, I mean all that shit left behind in this neighborhood. If they were anywhere near here, I'm talking even like 15 miles away, don't you think they'd have cleared out this neighborhood by now?" He had reached her and was looking down at her from where he stood. His expression revealed a trace of doubt which was quickly erased and replaced by his usual, bemused expression.

"We're almost there. I know it," he said. He walked away, leaving her to follow.

"Dick," she muttered, following him. After all, he was holding the map.

____

As it eventually became obvious by the road signs and highways, she had been right and they were lost. They'd made a wrong turn a couple dozen miles back and lengthened their journey by a week. Now, about two days away from Seattle, they'd stopped on the edge of an old road to have dinner: a rabbit she'd caught earlier in the day, and a small bundle of berries they'd found in the woods.

"Jesus, it's cold for March," she shivered, rubbing her arms up and down and jerking the hem of her coat away from the fire.

"Well, you know, climate change," Ethan said with a smirk. She resisted the urge to pick up a chunk of crumbled asphalt and throw it at him. He always found it hysterical to bring up relics of the pre-outbreak days, even though he wasn't old enough to have heard about them any way but second-hand. But there was nothing bizarre and science-fiction-sounding like climate change anymore to explain this weather.

She double-checked the date in her journal. She had kept track, partly because Ethan didn't really care what the date was, and mostly because even though he was older, she would never trust him with such a task, despite his capability. It was March 7th, and somehow it felt cold enough to snow, something surely unusual for the area at this date. After noting the odd weather and a couple of other details of the day, she tossed the journal back in her pack. After they had eaten and drank, they began to pack up. The sun was still an hour or two away from setting, which meant a few good hours of light that they couldn't afford to waste.

They were scarily low on supplies for people making such a trek. Between the two of them, they had maybe 15 rounds left in all of their guns (her pistol and rifle, his pistol and shotgun) and they could never have enough ammo, especially in the weird, unmaintained areas they had been passing through over the past few weeks. There were maybe two sad-looking bandages and one single-use tube of antiseptic left in her backpack, and with Ethan as reckless as he tended to be, she might as well have none. It wasn't enough, and they needed to hurry. The good news was that she had been right about the areas not being cleared as a sign they weren't headed in the right direction. The closer they had gotten to Seattle, the less they saw of both infected and supplies, especially now that they could see Seattle on the horizon. She loved the view of the city. It reminded her of home.