Rise

Fine

Dez knew that those few years of cheer practice would someday come in handy.

At least for dodging purposes, anyway.

"The head, Dez, aim for the head!" The girl coaxes him. "What are you doing? Strike already!" She aggressively gestures a hammer-strike in the air with her fist, the situation making her tense up. "You're tall enough, just bring that hatchet-knife thingy down on top of its head."

The creature emits some low growls, seeming what could best be described as exhausted after each attempt to get the boy within its clutches. Every time, without fail, as Dez would approach, intending to strike the small beast with the meat cleaver, his cowardice would take over, pulling him back. He proves to be an expert dodger, however – the corpse missing him with every ventured lunge and swing of the arms.

"This isn't getting anywhere..." Trish groans, massaging her temples with her fingers.

"I'm trying. It just keeps on swinging at me!" He moves further away from the beast, which Trish had chained up by the ankle to the base of a cypress. "Why are we doing this, anyway?" The corpse continues grasping at air, straining to reach for the freckled boy – held back by the chains pulled to their maximum length.

"I told you. Training. You could really use it." Trish crosses her arms. "And once you've killed this one, I'll find you another. And you'll fight it, without out chains this time."

"Are you trying to get me killed? I thought we were friends." He pouts, collapsing onto his knees, tossing the cleaver aside. "I'm tired. Can we stop?" He scratches his jawline, the light, barely-visible stubble dotted along it had started making him itch.

"Dez, I'm only trying to help you. I can't always watch over you. How many times do I have to tell you that before I get through to you?" She kneels down beside him. "It's been way too long, and we haven't gotten anywhere 'cause you're too much of a pansy to get out there and slice into those zombies' skulls."

"You say that like it's such an easy thing to do," he grumbles.

Taking a proper seat on the ground, she pulls her knees in towards her body and rests her chin on them. "We need to fight. We can't just outrun them all the time. They keep chasing us in circles, and we always end up back in the same places. I can't fight the hordes alone, either, Dez. You need to help me out here. I can't fight for the both of us."

The two had been consistently making attempts to escape the city throughout the duration of the past two weeks – since the beginning of this entire crisis. Trapped. At almost every corner, a large horde waits on any signs of life to emerge from the alleyways. All of the main roads – infested with the walking corpses. And the parts they weren't covering? Guarded by mercenaries like the two they had seen weeks ago. They managed to find a few temporary safehouses, though any available sources of food and water had been scarce – and seeing as all local markets and convenience stores were armed with blaring sirens, they couldn't take the risk of breaking into those. The time to move on had to be now.

"Maybe you don't have to fight for the both of us. Maybe you should just..." he bites down on his lip, stopping himself.

"Maybe I should what, Dez?" She scrunches her brows together, releasing her knees from her hold on them, and crawls towards him. As she closes in on him, she grabs the back of his head and pulls it to hers. With her forehead pushing against his, her glare hardens. "If you think for one second that I'm just going to leave you behind..." His eyes, full of something she had rarely ever seen on the boy, causes her voice to falter. Despair. Her face and tone softens, abruptly drained of the searing rage that had manifested from her own fears. "Dez, you're my friend. I'm not leaving you behind."